Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue, Support this Poet & Orphans Too

They say the third time's the charm, and fingers crossed this is the case for poet Louis Dowling’s poetry book launch, which has been rescheduled once again to Oct 1 at nugget.

A regular reader at Spittoon Poetry Night, Dowling will be launching his poetry book titled You. At the launch Louis will read selected pieces from the book and copies of the book will also be available for purchase, with all the proceeds donated directly to a local Beijing charity. I spoke with Dowling ahead of the event  to find out more about his poetry journey. 

How long have you been writing poetry for, and how did you first get started?
I guess my poetry journey started when I was kid. We were on a family trip heading from my hometown of Liverpool to the south of England. Unfortunately, we were holding the map the wrong way round and we ended up in Scotland!

The first town you come across in Scotland is a place called Dumfries. It was here that I encountered the works of Robert Burns. I instantly found myself captivated by Burns’ use of authentic voice and dialect in his poems. All of a sudden, poetry felt real to me, and I wanted to write. I have been writing intermittently ever since, but I’ve never put pressure on myself.

I’ve just written things down whenever it’s felt right to do so. Some of the poems in this collection are actually from my days in high school, so I suppose you can say that this collection is the culmination of nearly fifteen years’ worth of experience and reflection.

Am I correct in thinking this is your first poetry book that you’re launching?
You are correct. I’ve been performing my poems for several years, but they’ve never been released in book form before. I’ve seen other legends of the Beijing poetry scene, like Michael Burton and Ed Steele, launch books over the years. It was always an idea I was toying with, but seeing other people do it really kicked me into action.

Can you tell us a bit about what the journey has been like getting your book published?
I wish I had a good anecdote for you. The actual process of publishing the book was quite simple. I got in touch with a contact who specializes in printing. I sent them my stuff and I received fifty-odd books a week or so later. The hard part has been organising the launch event. This is the third time of trying. Previous arrangements had to be postponed because of the pandemic. I just really hope nothing bad happens between now and Oct 1! By the way, I would like to say thanks to the guys at nugget. No matter how many times I’ve had to change the date, they’ve always been willing to let me use their venue. This event could not happen without their support.

Without giving any spoilers, what can readers expect from your book?
There are thirty poems in total and some of them rhyme #spoileralert. Each poem feels like a chapter of my life. I can pretty much remember when and where I wrote each one. Some of them were written in my bedroom in England, and one was written on a bus home from Glastonbury. Others were written in various apartments, cafés and bars all over the world. Maybe each poem contains a sprinkling of each time and place. As such, the range is quite diverse. At the heart of the collection is a sense of conflict, and each poem is an attempt to reconcile that conflict. I can’t say exactly what that conflict is, but I think it might be something that we all have to deal with. This collection is my way of dealing with it. I hope people can find something in these poems that resonates with their own struggles, whatever struggles they might be. 

Your book is titled You. Why did you choose this name?
The first poem in the collection is called "You." It wasn’t the first poem that I wrote, but it was the one that made me realise that sense of conflict that I talked about earlier. It’s vindictive. I’m directly challenging some opposing force and calling it out. Ever since I wrote that poem, probably about ten years ago now, I knew what I wanted this collection to be. It always felt as if "You" was at the core of all the other poems that I wrote after that.

After many delays you’ll finally be having your poetry book launch on Saturday Oct 1. What do you have in store with the event?
First and foremost, I just want some great, like-minded people to get together and have a good time. If poetry is the thing that brings them together, then that’s even better! As for the actual show, I will read out a selection of the poems from the book. I am a keen believer in the performative aspect of poetry so there will be a lot of energy and you might see some poems performed in ways that I’ve not performed them before. Some of the poems will be a bit dark but I can assure you that there will be more than enough optimistic poems to balance it out. I’m also a stand-up comedian, so there’s bound to be some jokes along the way. 

You’ve said money from the books will be donated to charity. Can you tell us a bit more about the chosen charity and why you picked it? 
I never wanted to make any money from this collection. Don’t get me wrong, if any book publishers want to sign me up, I’ll happily take it! However, at least for now, I’m realistic enough to know that people might have better things to do with their money than give it to a random Brit in Beijing. I always thought I would just give the book away for free but then I thought it would be even better if we could raise some money for charity. I have selected an orphanage for disabled children on the outskirts of Beijing. People who wish to buy a physical copy of the book can send RMB 50 straight to the charity. Details of how to send the money will be provided during the event. 

Lastly do you have any words of advice for other fellow aspiring poets in Beijing?
Who am I to give advice? All I can say is read and write as much as you can. Get along to the amazing events organized by Spittoon and Hopelessly Tatiana as well. There’s such an amazing literary community here in Beijing. You’ll hear new voices that excite you and you’ll find your inspiration. Poetry was invented by people and it belongs to the people, so there’s nothing that can ever stop you!

Louis Dowling's poetry book Launch will take place Oct 1, 3pm at nugget. Copies of the book will be RMB 50 and 100 percent of the procedes will be paid directly to a local charity. 

nugget
8 Andingmen Garden Front Alley, Dongcheng District
东城区安定么花园前巷8号

READ: Empty Shelves, Long Lines as Wangfujing Foreign Bookstore Set to Close

Images: courtesy of Louis Dowling

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BauLuo wrote:

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I think I wrote that around when I was around 19, or 20 and jus learnin how to be a drunk.

Actually, that's not bad. If you can pad it out to a few thousand lines, we can talk me being your literary agent. You know, something about the Kublai Khan pitching a "stately pleasure dome," throw in a sulky Myrmidon putting a Trojan on his horse, add a racy affait about the Doktor learned in all the sciences who can't get laid without Mephisto's help. A few caged birds singing. Whimpering actually, not banging. Then when 'was Sie besitzen sehen Sie wie in weiten, und was verschwand wird Ihr zur Wirchlichkeiten,' gimme a call and we'll talk contract.

Personally, I can't figger out why my poetic aspirations came to naught. They say poets are born not made, right? Well, I was certainly born. I even got a certificate to prove it. But the well-springs of my creativity are stoppered up tighter than a tampaxed toilet. The Muses ghosted me like the neurotic chicks on hook-up sites do once they see my real photo and bank statement. (The birth certificate part was plagiarized from Saki. Sorry.)

[/quote] That was actually very funny.
Bravo! LCAQ56B

[/quote] I can pad out shi*t likes this till the cow comes home. Now here's an idea. I can write a buncha girbberish, (that Gerbill languange, for the uninitiated.) you can write a buncha gibberish, we mix up the papers.... you write a page, I write a page, mix the whole shit together. You can be my literary agent, I can be your literay agent. New York Times Bestseller, guaranteed. !!! Ba! We can put in some self-help hints at strategic places. Maybe we could be on Oprah. !!!

I am Doktor Aethelwise Snapdragoon.

Giovanni Martini wrote:

Allusions to diverse references, without coherent connections and reference do not cleverness make.(unquote)

It's called stream of consciousness. Like a stream of pee, only this comes out of one's head.

So you pee out of yer head? Have you seen a doctor?

I am Doktor Aethelwise Snapdragoon.

Giovanni Martini wrote:
BauLuo wrote:
Giovanni Martini wrote:

Poetry was invented by people and it belongs to the people, so there’s nothing that can ever stop you!(unquote)

Can't "the people" stop me? After all they own my poetry---you say. In fact, poetry more properly belongs only to those who write it and those who can appreciate it, assuming it is worth being appreciated to begin with. Perhaps I should say "can and DO" appreciate it. I read just enough of Pound's Cantos to know 1) I can indeed appreciate the stuff; 2) I have other pressing demands on my artistic time. So, sadly, Pound's work does not belong to me. Conversely, I do not appreciate Angelou's word skeins, (my berserker gods sei dank), so I am among the people her work does not belong to. In any case, "the people" is a collectivist abstraction, a gilding of mediocrity by the mediocre menschenmenge.

Poet tree grow in the muddy water, in the dirt. From foisted forms and idignant soil grows a thought so perspicasious, as to be undeniable.

I think I wrote that around when I was around 19, or 20 and jus learnin how to be a drunk.

Actually, that's not bad. If you can pad it out to a few thousand lines, we can talk me being your literary agent. You know, something about the Kublai Khan pitching a "stately pleasure dome," throw in a sulky Myrmidon putting a Trojan on his horse, add a racy affait about the Doktor learned in all the sciences who can't get laid without Mephisto's help. A few caged birds singing. Whimpering actually, not banging. Then when 'was Sie besitzen sehen Sie wie in weiten, und was verschwand wird Ihr zur Wirchlichkeiten,' gimme a call and we'll talk contract.

Personally, I can't figger out why my poetic aspirations came to naught. They say poets are born not made, right? Well, I was certainly born. I even got a certificate to prove it. But the well-springs of my creativity are stoppered up tighter than a tampaxed toilet. The Muses ghosted me like the neurotic chicks on hook-up sites do once they see my real photo and bank statement. (The birth certificate part was plagiarized from Saki. Sorry.)

That was actually very funny.
Bravo! LCAQ56B

I am Doktor Aethelwise Snapdragoon.

Giovanni Martini wrote:
BauLuo wrote:
Giovanni Martini wrote:

Poetry was invented by people and it belongs to the people, so there’s nothing that can ever stop you!(unquote)

Can't "the people" stop me? After all they own my poetry---you say. In fact, poetry more properly belongs only to those who write it and those who can appreciate it, assuming it is worth being appreciated to begin with. Perhaps I should say "can and DO" appreciate it. I read just enough of Pound's Cantos to know 1) I can indeed appreciate the stuff; 2) I have other pressing demands on my artistic time. So, sadly, Pound's work does not belong to me. Conversely, I do not appreciate Angelou's word skeins, (my berserker gods sei dank), so I am among the people her work does not belong to. In any case, "the people" is a collectivist abstraction, a gilding of mediocrity by the mediocre menschenmenge.

Poet tree grow in the muddy water, in the dirt. From foisted forms and idignant soil grows a thought so perspicasious, as to be undeniable.

I think I wrote that around when I was around 19, or 20 and jus learnin how to be a drunk.

Actually, that's not bad. If you can pad it out to a few thousand lines, we can talk me being your literary agent. You know, something about the Kublai Khan pitching a "stately pleasure dome," throw in a sulky Myrmidon putting a Trojan on his horse, add a racy affait about the Doktor learned in all the sciences who can't get laid without Mephisto's help. A few caged birds singing. Whimpering actually, not banging. Then when 'was Sie besitzen sehen Sie wie in weiten, und was verschwand wird Ihr zur Wirchlichkeiten,' gimme a call and we'll talk contract.

Personally, I can't figger out why my poetic aspirations came to naught. They say poets are born not made, right? Well, I was certainly born. I even got a certificate to prove it. But the well-springs of my creativity are stoppered up tighter than a tampaxed toilet. The Muses ghosted me like the neurotic chicks on hook-up sites do once they see my real photo and bank statement. (The birth certificate part was plagiarized from Saki. Sorry.)

Well, I did just whipe my bum recently, I am still trying to interpret the bum stains,they might be Assyrian though. Give me a day and three, figure this jazz out.

I am Doktor Aethelwise Snapdragoon.

Giovanni Martini wrote:
BauLuo wrote:
Giovanni Martini wrote:

Poetry was invented by people and it belongs to the people, so there’s nothing that can ever stop you!(unquote)

Can't "the people" stop me? After all they own my poetry---you say. In fact, poetry more properly belongs only to those who write it and those who can appreciate it, assuming it is worth being appreciated to begin with. Perhaps I should say "can and DO" appreciate it. I read just enough of Pound's Cantos to know 1) I can indeed appreciate the stuff; 2) I have other pressing demands on my artistic time. So, sadly, Pound's work does not belong to me. Conversely, I do not appreciate Angelou's word skeins, (my berserker gods sei dank), so I am among the people her work does not belong to. In any case, "the people" is a collectivist abstraction, a gilding of mediocrity by the mediocre menschenmenge.

Poet tree grow in the muddy water, in the dirt. From foisted forms and idignant soil grows a thought so perspicasious, as to be undeniable.

I think I wrote that around when I was around 19, or 20 and jus learnin how to be a drunk.

Actually, that's not bad. If you can pad it out to a few thousand lines, we can talk me being your literary agent. You know, something about the Kublai Khan pitching a "stately pleasure dome," throw in a sulky Myrmidon putting a Trojan on his horse, add a racy affait about the Doktor learned in all the sciences who can't get laid without Mephisto's help. A few caged birds singing. Whimpering actually, not banging. Then when 'was Sie besitzen sehen Sie wie in weiten, und was verschwand wird Ihr zur Wirchlichkeiten,' gimme a call and we'll talk contract.

Personally, I can't figger out why my poetic aspirations came to naught. They say poets are born not made, right? Well, I was certainly born. I even got a certificate to prove it. But the well-springs of my creativity are stoppered up tighter than a tampaxed toilet. The Muses ghosted me like the neurotic chicks on hook-up sites do once they see my real photo and bank statement. (The birth certificate part was plagiarized from Saki. Sorry.)

Allusions to diverse references, without coherent connections and reference do not cleverness make. None the less, I have discovered, that generally speaking, I do not like the south of China. Neither the people, not the landscape, though people, well people are people , and there are bunches of them I like from everywhere. Aside frome this, Chinese speakingly, I am a dongbeiren. I hafta get my ass back up there. Don't like the south of China.

I am Doktor Aethelwise Snapdragoon.

Giovanni Martini wrote:

Poetry was invented by people and it belongs to the people, so there’s nothing that can ever stop you!(unquote)

Can't "the people" stop me? After all they own my poetry---you say. In fact, poetry more properly belongs only to those who write it and those who can appreciate it, assuming it is worth being appreciated to begin with. Perhaps I should say "can and DO" appreciate it. I read just enough of Pound's Cantos to know 1) I can indeed appreciate the stuff; 2) I have other pressing demands on my artistic time. So, sadly, Pound's work does not belong to me. Conversely, I do not appreciate Angelou's word skeins, (my berserker gods sei dank), so I am among the people her work does not belong to. In any case, "the people" is a collectivist abstraction, a gilding of mediocrity by the mediocre menschenmenge.

Poet tree grow in the muddy water, in the dirt. From foisted forms and idignant soil grows a thought so perspicasious, as to be undeniable.

I think I wrote that around when I was around 19, or 20 and jus learnin how to be a drunk.

I am Doktor Aethelwise Snapdragoon.

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