(Soma)tic Poetry

[*This post contains explicit language and references to sexual violence*]

This week in our Experimental Writing class, we’ve been working with some (Soma)tic Poetry ideas by CA Conrad from the book A Beautiful Marsupial Afternoon (Wave Books, 2012).

(Soma)tic Poetry is designed to open up our creativity by stepping outside the realms of ‘normal’ writing practice, and establishing a deeper connection with the Divine (Soma) through the body tissues (somatic).

somatic poetry

I found it wildly liberating and empowering in so many ways!  My writing took on shapes, sounds, vocabularies and directions that felt so new and raw and real: physically embodied, Divinely inspired, sometimes shocking and explosive.

Reading Conrad’s own examples from his book, I began to feel that there was a difference between making sense and having sense.  The latter being imbued with a rich sense of feeling, a depth that grows with time and multiple readings, rather than a necessarily linear narrative structure.

As I began experimenting with my own experiences, I found that there was a sense of connection that could be made between seemingly unrelated lines of poetry, and that it was stepping outside of my ‘normal’ ideas about writing that gave these gems the freedom to shine.  I discovered a connection to voices that are not my own, enabling me to step aside from my writing and view it objectively – suddenly realising the power of creating characters who truly speak for themselves, independently of my usual ideas and vocabulary.


So here are some of the results, and I’m proud to say they’re mine!

You In Your Soup:

Watch this poem being created by clicking here.


This next poem explores the relationship between poverty and capitalism:





under you

under me

underclass   you

hate everything

i do

or you just don’t see me

i creep




through the loopholes of your world


inseparable from systems designed to hide me



you look away

bare ribbed     bare


unlimited cunt

for fucking       but you don’t see

my face           your eyes

closed as you slide inside

my hole of

dark unbirth


now it’s my turn

to fuck you and

I ram myself in hard

unfeeling         without


or thought

i spit

in your face

but you don’t see me


eclipsed by shining shoes        hot coffee        empty jokes

the face of your new lover and the holiday

you took

you didn’t see me there

but i was


‘til the spike was

slipped inside

your drink

and i entered in

your blindness

you could wake up

get out the


if you wanted

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