Does humour belong in poetry? Does a tadpole belong in a martini? Recommended. — Gilbert Eion, Dark Times Review
New Zealand literature has no one like Keith. Always surprising, a genuine original. - Roger Horrocks, author of Song of the Ghost in the Machine
In part a Socratic interrogation of today’s biggest whatevers, elsewhere inspired by the incomparable Chilean antipoet, Nicanor Parra. Prepare to have your funny bone hit. Hard. — Don le Tissier, Backwater Quarterley Like Marmite, a spread so admired by the poet’s New Zealand compatriots, these poems remain an acquired taste. But for those who enjoy a soupçon of tart social commentary, on-the-mark satire and (deliberate?) bathos, this collection is a must. —Tami Accion, Avian Express There's real humour in places - something difficult to achieve in any writing. The collection offers an insightful and kaleidoscopic dissection of the modern world. It's an entertainingly timely invitation to wake up. - Hugh Major, author of Idioglossia and The Lantern in the Skull
Is this book ticking? - Receptionist, Ministry for Culture
109 pages, 5.5 x 8.5 inches / 140 x 216 mm ISBN Paperback: 9780995120488
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
The poet has spent most of his life mooching around. Seeking inspiration, he attended a celebrated writing course, but was soon noticed and ordered to leave. He won a prize once, but left it on the bus and never saw it again. The poet accepts children are required to continue the species, but let's face it, how many more do we need? The poet has spent way too many years staring into his shadow. Sad.
Sample poems
What is an antipoem?
An antipoem is icecream in a cone balanced on its sharp tip on the road to Bulawayo on the hottest day of the year that stubbornly refuses to melt.
An antipoem is a shadow that decides to take the day off books an Uber hops a plane and ends up in the Himalayas posting blank selfies of the view.
An antipoem is a baby that doesn’t want to be born but when it finally arrives it’s smoking a cigar and making plans for the coming devolution.
An antipoem is a ticking book delivered to the Ministry for Culture but after the bomb squad blows it up they only find cogs from 20 wind-up sonnets.
An antipoem is an invitation to a wedding where the mothers-in-law are smirking the best man won’t say what’s happened to the bride the celebrant has drunk the champagne and no one believes in marriage anyway.
Burgers
The poet overdoses on cheese burgers passes out and when he wakes thinks he won the election.
The poet walks down the street waving to the crowds then has a tantrum because he needs great lighting.
The poet demands a contest so only someone who really deserves it is able to reach his corner.
The poet knows his corner is the best in the world because he’s standing there tweeting progress.
The poet can’t believe how crazily the world is behaving now he’s the most voted-for ruler ever.
The poet is amazed no ruler has been so rulerish in the history of rulers in a world now entering peak rule.
The poet feels queasy throws up tweets news he did so is fake and orders another round of burgers.
Reality
The poet attends talks by New Age adepts and political strategists and learns he creates reality.
The poet realises he can say and do what he likes because he is the source of how reality is.
The poet blinks and the world’s lights go out opens his eyes and they come back on again.
The poet walks down the street blinking out everything he hates that clutters his view.
The poet leaves ice cubes outside for later because if he says they won’t melt they won’t. The poet looks in the mirror and sees an astute philosopher who is the measure of all things.
The poet opens his mouth and insects pour out devouring everything that already isn’t there.
The poet as agony aunt (excerpts)
Dear Aunty Poet, I have become disillusioned with dating apps. Their recommends just don’t work for me. But I want to meet the right one. Do you have any advice? Lovelorn.
Dear Lovelorn— Big data concludes finding love ultimately comes down to numbers. Many treat dating like buying a ticket in Saturday night Lotto although they know the odds of scoring a winning date are equivalent to being bitten by a shark. We support the popular alternative of kissing an awful lot of frogs. Consider accepting webbed feet.
Dear Aunty Poet, My parish priest is a keen gardener. He has invited me to visit his house and view his Bower of Delight, which he says is a garden filled with many
different flowers’ scents. Being with him makes me glow. Then I think of what others will say, particularly my
husband. Should I go? Confused.
Dear Confused— The priest directs us at the heavens but his feet remain on the ground. You say his words cause you to glow yet your life remains a question mark. Pick up that question mark use it to sweep away life’s incidentals then hang it in the closet. Does it extend down to the floor? Or is it so small it is hardly visible? Has it dripped dry? Does it need starch? What does it lack that you are considering the priest’s offer? And what might you lose if he leads you up the garden path? There comes a time in life when these questions must be asked. Remember you have other options. Try opening the door in your shadow and stepping through.
2018: They made it fun (excerpt) Improving technology and millennials’ changing expectations of work and family are giving rise to a new office arrangement—the coliving/coworking space often on the beach but always far away. It’s like WeWork meets an upgraded hostel (in paradise) with free coffee fast internet a kitchen and quiet spaces while supplying the serendipitous meetings and experiences today’s digital nomads demand.
18-year-old De’Lindsey Dwayne Mack was shot and killed outside his school. De’Lindsey had an alternative persona on his Instagram page which his family didn’t discover until after his death. A family friend said the teen posted pictures of himself with money and guns. “He was a soft kid who wanted to be hard.”
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Needed quick! Date to family reunion. Three days all expenses paid. Looking for man who is 30–45 tall healthy and smart. Must be comfortable with strangers able to play endless hours of frisbee and not a vegetarian. Must have a good job be either Christian or willing to pretend and like animals and kids. Please be well-groomed too. Ironed clothes are a big plus. I am a 31 y.o. athletic brown-eyed brunette. Don’t respond if you don’t think you can pretend to be my boyfriend.
