poetry

Repeat Repeat Repeat

Originally written as a spoken word poem

Tell me again, Love,
why we were so confined.
I have it memorised, trust me but repeat.
repeat, hear, beg for a repeat, repeat. Rewind rewind, rewind.

Can you simplify it, Love?
I’m always drunk when it needs repeating, so simplify a little more.
You know I can’t leave it alone
You know I won’t believe it’s done.

Then where will be be?

Sober I’m red faced, can’t ask, what a waste,
The thing is that I have it memorised:
sober, drunk, asleep, unaware, insane, angry, upset –
every repeat like a hit,

“We were both messed up back then, and now it’s too late.”

Missed chances, shitty counselling and prescription pills.
Then: university – opposite ends of the country,
and I’m smoking, drinking, joking, not able to pay the bills.
You never reply, you never pick up and soon I forget to try.
I watch our collective inability to wait, converse, date.

‘We were both messed up back then, and now it’s too late’.

I hate begging for the repeat, but I need it,
particularly at a bus stop, 3AM on New Year ’s eve,
last time I’ll see you for months, and the thought’s too hard to conceive.
So with the memories of midnight imprinted on our lips
I’m gonna need our excuse

Because hey: ‘We were both messed up back then, and now it’s too late’.

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poetry, Uncategorized

Retracing and Rewinding

Written in 2015, not submitted to any grading board.

Retrace your steps to recover –
turn around on your path, disrupt the dirt road.
turn around, turn around or find another.

Lost things may be found in dark corners,
but remember how dust and dark deny you definition.

Consider the lost hours:  you’ve turned, retraced –
And more time’s wasted.

Consider lost memory: thinking, photos, reminiscing –
think of all you’re missing.

Consider lost people: wonder, wonder ever wonder at the cost –
wonder wonder if they knew they were lost

Consider lost you –

Stop retracing, stop rethinking.
Deny dark corners new toys
Let lost things stay lost

If you can stop your mind– stop the rewind to things you’ll never find.

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Academic Writing, Uncategorized

“She’s all grown up” – Femininity, growing up on screen and the sexualisation of youth: Chloe Grace Moretz in cross media.

Graded 68% as a Dissertation submission, 5/5/17.

Click Here for Full PDF

Abstract

The focus of this dissertation is three case studies of pop culture, fashion and film icon and former child star Chloe Grace Moretz in cross media. Using the application of sociological, feminist, film and media theories her presentation and roles are analysed according to Freudian theory and Laura Mulvey’s seminal feminist film theories presented in Narrative and Visual Pleasure (1975). The application of these theories provides a basis to understand and critique presentations of sexualised women on screen. These theories stem from psychoanalytic theory and extend to dominant power structures, constructs of looking and fetishism of women, active and passive dichotomies and anxieties present across media and narrative cinema.

Contextual research in the history of sexualisation in advertising, societal norms of beauty, power and media production and the power advertising has over these topics is researched and applied. This context allows the reader to better understand the way advertising is understood theoretically, as well as the changes past and present that are remarked upon by Marc Lombardo and Gigi Durham as they regard sexualisation of young people and its effects.  Lindsey Herriot and Lana Hiseler contextualise the cultural perceptions and treatment of childhood with their theory of ‘childism’ and its roots in impotence anxiety, similar to Durham and Lombardo’s conclusions of created media to soothe unconscious fears.

Adverts banned by the Advertising Standards Agency are studied in this text. Herein we find that lawfully and socially adult women with young appearances is a basis for the ban of the imagery in culture, asking the question: what makes Moretz different? Notable to this dissertation is the unanswerable questions it presents regarding nudity, femininity, power and sexuality, as images cannot be regarded as exploitative so simply. Instead the key to this dissertation is how and why images of young women exist as they do and the effects of these images in culture.

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poetry

Four old Hoofprints

Submitted as part of a poetry anthology, AS Creative Writing, 2014. 

Four horses raced across the world,
astride were mighty angels – wings unfurled,
and swords of flame held high and swung
A song of death the angels sung.

The angel, grey and glorious,
behind her brought an offering of pus,
a shining crown atop her head
Watched as her pestilence was fed.

Upon the red horse, flame and fire,
Brought fury, strength, and wild desire,
and instilled hate in all man’s hearts,
and smiled and watched her bloody art.

The black horse devoured all to sate her famine,
and spat out those bereft of sin,
and drank and chewed and gorged upon
every other child, daughter, son.

And then the angel upon a white mare
and blood fell from her empty stare
and any left alive would have understood,
that death was all that remained of good.

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poetry

Shorts

Three short poems submitted in a poetry anthology, 2014, AS Creative Writing.


Alliterative allure

You kissed me and I felt fire
in your lips and teeth and tongue,
and I ignored the bites and burns,
in favour of your fervour.


 

Fragment

She remembered the past in framed photos
Heavily edited, highly posed,
Brutally selected.


 

Storm

I envy the quiet rain
That lulls you to sleep
I am the storm that scares you.

Shouting at the skies
Rather than just whispering
My words while you sleep.

I envy delicacy
softness and quiet:
Obviously I envy

you.

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poetry

Nature/Nurture

Submitted in a poetry anthology, 2014, AS Creative Writing. 

You can roll your tongue,
And you got it from your Mother.
You’re hair colour is your grandmothers
(Father’s side).

You learned to bite back
From TV, and teen teardowns,
and it made me laugh,
(and cry and rage and want to die)

You’re eyes look like your Father’s
but his have laugh lines and yours
examine my faults.
(How similar to your mother)

You learned to punch,
when you were nine.
You punched the wall once.
(I was scared I could crumble like that plaster)

You smile like your brothers;
easily, often, and brilliantly,
with chubby cheeks, and crooked teeth.
(Only not so often anymore)

You got your anger from me.
I pushed, and pushed,
and formed it in fire
(like a ancient smith makes swords)

(How proud I am, to have helped make you).

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