From a change of venues, to an addition of a new cast member, Floral Peroxide highlights how debilitating disability can be especially when gone undiagnosed. However, it also demonstrates how individuals can find empowerment through their unique sense of self through art.
A startling, confronting and heart-warming portrayal of disability; Alison and 5000 AD seamlessly blend poetry with eerie synth sounds to present lived disability — unfiltered.
I must also give a special mention to the Ian Gibbins who provided captioning for the show. The timing and visual effects brought the whole performance together and allowed the audience (myself included) to fully immerse ourselves in Alison’s experiences.
As a highly accessible show with theatrics like no other this Fringe season (to my knowledge), I’m struggling to find areas of criticism (perhaps a larger venue to accommodate more people). Therefore, I am giving the show a 5/5. And I rarely do give ratings, but Floral Peroxide is definitely worth it!
Yes I know it’s been a while since I’ve done a review or a
blog post for that matter but I’M BACK WITH ANOTHER REVIEW! This time it’s Rudy
I decided to review “Helium” as his use of repetition specifically anaphora, first person and personal stories combined with factual evidence in his work is both confronting, heart-warming and enchanting.
I have selected 6 poems (which are in no particular order) and provided my own interpretation/analysis for each of them.
Pretty self-explanatory. Simply put, Francisco outlines that noise does not always equate to being “seen” as “silence” has its own unique “rumble.”
Francisco begins by confronting the reader with raw recounts of personal upheaval experienced by himself and others, juxtaposing these situations with the pragmatic responses of those who experienced them. By doing this, he positions us to reflect on our “bad days” with more optimism. He emphasises through his use of repetition of “tell me” and alliteration of “stole the keys to your smile” that despite the unpleasantness of early rises and daily routine, it’s a blessing and shouldn’t be complained about as it is “so small it can fit on the tips of our tongues.”
“Tragedy and silence often have the exact same address.”
This line stood out for me as Francisco describes that whilst difficult situations can be dealt with pragmatically, they will always be accompanied by tragedy and silence. Here, he personifies these two words highlighting their simultaneous nature.
Francisco ends this piece on a positive note through his use of a simile and alliteration describing that “life is a gym membership with a really complicated cancellation policy.” He demonstrates that although some days are awful and unforgiving, one must continue persevering. This is further reinforced through his use of second person as “you are still alive” and thus must “act like it.”
For those in the back and the front who don’t believe in
climate change, this one’s for you.
Francisco uses a metaphor to describe the limitless nature
of water during his youth as “it seemed endless.” This is further reinforced
through personification as regardless of “where [they] were”, water “would
always come running.” He contrasts the idea of the abundant nature of water with
his now shock of its scarcity, through reflecting upon a childhood memory as he
had read about “dragons and droughts” but never imagined he would
“have to deal with them.” This shock is emphasised through alliteration of
the hard ‘d’ constant.
Francisco confronts us with the uncertainty he now feels about the limitless nature of water by personifying the Earth as he wonders “how long it will take the planet to tell us we can’t live here.” He reinforces this idea by juxtaposing the simple pleasures of water and how it ran “through his figures” with the doubt he now harbours as he is unsure whether his “grandkids” will ever “hear [water] splash.”
4. When People Ask How I’m Doing
For those of us who say ‘we’re alright’ and continue through
each and every single day just to avoid flooding our emotions onto someone else.
Francisco explores how debilitating his depression can be at
times by personifying it as an “angry… jealous God.” He highlights its power
through figurative language as it “wrings [his] joy like a dishrag and makes juice
of [his] smile.”
However, he refuses to “ruin someone’s day with his tragic honesty” and uses a simile to explain that he combats his depression by treating his face “like a pumpkin.” He “carves it into something acceptable” and musters up an “I’m doing alright.”
5. Rifle II
This poem seamlessly connects guns and toxic masculinity to
showcase the beauty that will arise if they are eradicated. Francisco explores
the different uses of a gun, highlighting the similar effect they have on
people by juxtaposing the ways in which they create these effects as a gun can
be used to “take peoples lives” or repurposed into “musical instruments…that
puts life back into people’s bodies.”
The second half of this poem deals with how violence equating to masculinity has been ingrained into young boys through his use of of a metaphor as his “bloody knuckles” are his “first piece of artwork…hung on the fridge.” Francisco expresses the confusion he feels for being awarded for his violence through an analogy as he knows he is “passing” but has “no idea what class.” He further reiterates his confusion as men “don’t even know” what the imperative “man up” really means. Francisco realises that violence and masculinity are not connected through a comparison of the heart and the fist as they are both the “same size”, but have “different functions.” He concludes this piece with another powerful comparison explaining how he has learned that the “difference between a garden and a graveyard” is only what is “put in the ground.” Here, he reinforces that destruction can be reversed.
“Museum” explains how vulnerability is unavoidable when being a writer especially a poet and that a spoken-word poet. Francisco emphasises using a metaphor, the limbo a writer dwells in when sharing their work as “patrons” are asked “not touch” but “only half of them respect the signs.” However, he ends this poem on a positive note, explaining that poets and their work stand as a lyrical refuge where one can “walk through” and “leave when they are ready.”
If you liked this review or have any feedback, please let me know!
Also, if you’re interested in purchasing Helium, you can do here.
Okay, I must admit, this is probably the first contemporary Australian poetry book that I have properly read in a while. And yes I thoroughly enjoyed it and I must thank Amelia for giving me a copy. As always, I have selected 8 poems (which are in no particular order) from Just Your Everyday Apocalypse and provided my own interpretation/analysis for each of them.
1. In Translation
In Translation is packed with metaphors and tells the story of hand-me-downs and thrifted clothing. Walker describes how despite numerous washes, the “fabric” is “flavoured” with “moments that are not [hers]” but of previous owners of the clothing. I really admire her use of alliteration when explaining that thrifted clothing is “a million mixed meanings” open to “minefields of misinterpretation.” It really makes you think about the previous owners of thrifted clothing, what they went through whilst wearing those clothes and the experiences they had. How rips or stains came to be? The mismatching of colours and the intricate stitch work? What era the clothing was from?
Short, simple and sweet. Dedicated to all the mothers out there with odd quirks and carefree attitudes. They might have a “crooked smile” and “varicose veins” but they are still “beautiful” nonetheless.
A poem that highlights some of the atrocities faced by female detainees, mainly focusing on the story of Cornelia Rau. Walker illustrates the horrid conditions these female detainees undergo as they are trapped in “windowless” rooms and must “sh*t” for an “audience of male guards.” She also describes the debilitating impact, life in a detention centre can have on an individual as after leaving and now “safe”, the former detainee is still unable to “let go of the teddy bear she clutched all those dark months.” Walls ends in a startling fashion as Walker describes that even though the woman has left the detention centre, she is unable to escape the “walls” of society as they have “none.”
A direct and brutally honest overview of different life pathways our friends, family and strangers have taken. Pretty self-explanatory.
5. City, Lover, Self
I believe we can all relate to City, Lover, Self regardless of whether you live in Australia or not because we all have places that are like home to us. Walker demonstrates the connection she has with Adelaide, through her use of personification, as she describes she is “intimate” with the “rhythm” of Adelaide’s “soft tissue organs” and “strange scarred body.” By using figurative language, she depicts how each instant details a specific memory of “things that have been or could have been” as “every shop glass shines with the ghost of some moment.”
A point that’s inevitable and you’ll face sooner or later unless you’re extremely lucky. Submerging, as the name suggests, describes the feeling of losing your sense of self. In Walker’s experience, it happened to her “slowly” as she was already “neck deep before [she] realised.” She uses metaphors to describe the symptoms of losing one’s self as she begins “rejecting sun and air” and finds it “hard to breathe” as “glass” is “encasing [her] head.” The line that resonates with me the most is how Walker emphasises how people “who were close” to her feel as if they’re “a million miles away” as she struggles to “follow conversations.” However, the last stanza is somewhat comforting as she is consoled by Circe, the Greek goddess of magic, who now “holds her hand” as her harsh exterior starts to melt away.
Poignant and beautifully written. Walker details the experience of a loved one discovering they have astrocytoma (cancer of the brain) and how despite the crippling nature of the disease they still manage to stay “composed” as “science slice [their] skull into squished butterfly segments.” Here, Walker uses alliteration to explicitly portray the life of this cancer-ridden individual. I also particularly love her use of a Stephen Hawking quote.
“If you jump into a black hole, your mass energy will be returned to our universe, but in a mangled form which contains the information about what you were like but in an unrecognisable state.” (Stephen Hawking, 2004)
I believe this quote serves as a reminder to us all that regardless of the immensity of our problems/issues, they will always be insignificant and eventually be forgotten and “unrecognisable.”
The last lines of Astrocytoma despite being quite grim are also somewhat consoling as we find out that this diseased individual is relieved of their suffering as their “six year migraine” is finally “over.”
I just love how cleverly put together this poem is. Walker organises it into three parts and as you guessed it, it starts off with Part One: SALT, then Part Two: TEQUILA and lastly Part Three: LEMON.
Part One: SALT describes the various uses of salt and allows us to contemplate the nature of salt as it is used to “sanctify” in Japanese Shinto culture but also deemed “unhealthy” and “indulgent” in Western culture.
The last lines lead nicely into Part Two: Tequila as salt “addiction” causes “thirst.”
I feel Part Two: Tequila describes the intoxicating and blinding effects of alcohol but also, its power to provide us with temporary ecstasy. Walker’s decision to provide a short story of the discovery of Tequila really enhances this poem.
Part Three: LEMON delves into a fond memory of Walker “picking lemons” with her grandmother as a young child. She describes through her use of personification that her closest feeling of being drunk at that age is when she swims in “scents of citrus and cinnamon.”
I particularly love the last stanza which I feel is pretty self-explanatory.
If you liked this review, I would love to hear from you.
Also, if you’re interested in purchasing Just Your Everyday Apocalypse you can do so by emailing firstname.lastname@example.org , FYI it’s only $10 a copy!
A Korean-American woman with flair, creativity and an extreme knack for writing. Today’s review is on her debut 2014 book “Floating Brilliant Gone.”
(And yes I know this review is quite late, but I only started to appreciate and properly discover poetry in 2016).
Anyways, I have selected 6 poems from her book that I really enjoyed and provided my own analysis of them. So let’s get into it!
Choi illustrates in her poem The Well, the immensity of loss from a detached third person perspective. She uses the metaphor of a well to describe how suffocating her life without her lover has become as it is now a “distant moon, a past life.” She highlights the dreariness of her loss as she has succumbed to the intoxicating and numbing effects of alcohol as she is no longer Franny Choi but “Dark-Drinker.” Choi ends this poem by personifying the night as an escape from her current life as she is “all open mouth asking for the night.” However, the night asks her to stay and “she stays.” These last lines stood out for me as it suggests that the night could be Choi’s inner-most thoughts and despite the temptation to leave this life behind and reconnect with her lover, she must resist and understand her present life and how her departure would impact those around her.
Simple, shocking and confronting. Choi doesn’t make use of fancy figurative language in this poem to describe her disbelief on hearing of her boyfriend’s passing, calling his mother “a liar” when she told her of the ordeal. She depicts that despite her conscious mind being unable to digest this horrific news, her subconscious resumes life in mourning as she “put up [her] hair and changed: black shirt, black pants” for a reading of her play. Choi emphasises her disbelief through irony as people say she “looked like a writer” dressed in black without understanding her subconscious motives of her colour choice.
The use of enjambment in the first two couplets also replicates how she can’t comprehend the situation and wants to runaway from it. However, the couplets thereafter become more punctuated suggesting that she must come to terms with this bitter reality.
Hilarious, creative and thought-provoking. At first, I didn’t quite understand this poem but once I read and viewed it a couple times it will hit you. Choi reinvents Weezy F Baby’s song “Pussy Monster” from Tha Carter III (which also has one of my favourite songs by him “Mr Carter” check it out haha) by rearranging the lyrics to the song in order of frequency. By using semantic saturation and satire especially of the word “pussy” which is said an unsurprisingly 40 times, Choi highlights the sexism evident in society especially in the music industry.
You can watch her performing this poem (which I highly recommend) here.
To the Man who Shouted “I like Pork Fried Rice” at me on the Street
This is one of my favourites from Floating Brilliant Gone. Choi emphasises the stereotypical nature of how Asian women are exoticized “brimming with foreign.” She describes how the man fantasises about her as he wants to “eat [her] out” as she is “red-light district stuck in [his] teeth.” However, Choi cleverly switches up his traditional fantasy in the end by gaining her revenge as after the ordeal he is left “squirming alive” as she is “strangling [him] quiet from the inside out.” Personally, these last lines left me conflicted with shock but somewhat satisfied as the man is left debilitated, but I guess he got what he deserved.
An uplifting poem and a reminder to be present. I really enjoyed this piece as Choi reminds us of the simple yet delightful pleasures of driving with our loved ones as “blessed are the insides of wrists that wriggle into conversation.” She describes the drive as a “chrysalis in the cushions” depicting the state of comfort and peace she finds within her friends. However, the last lines really stand out as reminder to us that despite the circumstances we must continue the “ever-rhythm of live, live, live.”
Heaven is a Fairy Tale (& Vice Versa)
Coherent, simple and only a sentence long. Choi highlights to us the cold truth that at times “we are all dutifully practising our deaths” and that both heaven and death are just fairy tales.
If you liked the review and would like to purchase the book, you can do so here.