The Anonymous Poet

Much has been written about the road in the past century. It seems the advent of the motor vehicle has done wonders for shrinking our world, little by little. Kerouac famously explored this with his beat – era wanderings, as did Ken Kesey in the sixties. These men celebrated a lifestyle that actually has its roots as far back as the most ancient of Bedouins. The nomad, the hunter, the gypsy. Nowadays we often find the artist assuming this role, but doesn’t it come from something more primal? God imbued us with a sense of discovery, often for the benefit of our own survival. Long before the Beat Generation nomadic hunters crossed what is now the Bering Strait into Alaska to pursue bison. In the Middle East the Hebrews travelled for 40 years in the wilderness until they settled in the Promised Land. The Philistines departed from Crete in search of a better life, as have pilgrims from all over the world at various times in history.

I became friends with just such a pilgrim in Paul Gordon, the Anonymous Poet. He immediately presented as a fascinating man; here is an Australian, living in Berlin and speaking perfect German. I was instantly intrigued. Like Kerouac, Cassidy, or even those unnamed peoples of old, Paul had a sense to just go. As you read through this book, consider how much smaller and intimate the world is through this artist’s eyes. The exuberance with which he takes to his Thunderbird in Motorcycle Diaries, the globe trotting as within the span of a couple of months he finds himself in Korea, Japan, Italy, and London is astounding. But he doesn’t thump his chest, nor at anytime seem to want to conquer the world, like so many have sought to do. For as small as he makes the world, he sees himself as infinitely smaller, there to experience the sights and smells and sounds of the places he sees. Anonymously.

I don’t know where Paul will go next, though I sense that I have an idea what the future holds for him. Here’s a man who will experience life like a sponge. He sees poetry, music, in everything he comes in contact with. To live that kind of way is both incredibly blessed, and at times painfully cursed. The same senses that open a poet up to the world around them also are very adept at causing all sorts of sorrow. But sorrow and struggle are the building blocks of character, and I can assure you, dear reader, that the foundation that props mister Gordon up are solid, indeed. This is not a man who lives his life in books. His is an intelligence that is borne out of life itself. The Bible calls that wisdom.

Perhaps the best compliment that I can pay my friend is that he is an everyman. Now, when we are young nobody wants to be called an everyman, but I think it’s the highest honour. See his interaction with the people around him, with the world. The German man who helped him with his motorcycle chain, or even more touchingly the young woman who fed him in a tiny village, the quiet moment as he rides off, never to hear from her again is heartbreaking in its simplicity. Paul Gordon is a real man, a real artist, and a real writer. May he always have safe travels, even when he stays put.

Extracts from the Poetry

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Softcover

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Softcover

£26.49