An essay exploring the nature of being at the margins in the slave narratives of Frederick Douglass and Harriet Jacobs. This essay explores the notion of the pushing of the slave subject's body to the margins of life; therefore, the subject is controlled through Achille Mbembe's notion of Necropolitics.
Meshes of the Afternoon, has long been read under the dead, myopic lens of psychoanalysis. This, short, essay attempts to provide a schizoanalysis, one that resonates more with the texts representations of dreams and desire to construct the notion of a fluxed female identity.
An address to some cheesy chips a girl is eating in a kebab shop who probably wants me to leave her alone.
A tirade, written by a student, a prisoner, in their halls reflecting on life in isolation both in halls, and at home - the urban environment is essentially being trapped in a constant feeling of day release, so I am imprisoned in both realities, both fantasies.
A first-'person' narrative poem, told from the perspective of God on the opening phrase of the New Testament; 'In the beginning there was the word'. Heavily influenced by T.S. Eliot's 'The Waste Land', as it is a pastiche written by the character Chris, an embodiment of the aforementioned poem
a poem about a cigarette, spoken in the time taken to smoke one.
A pastiche of the wonderfully beautiful poem, 'Having a Coke with You' by Frank O'Hara. I am attempting to explore the Unheimlich feeling of Hara's philosophy of poetry being about a conversation between two people. Consequently, this poem disrupts the conversation into that of a monologue of a suicidal speaker. Displaying that of ego-death or the dissolution of self. However, not in the Freudian/Jungian sense, instead a late-capitalist/postmodern. Thus, attempting to ascribe a poetic connection between Mark Fisher's Capitalist Realism concept and the current mental health crisis.
A poem written whilst in the Marsden moors near the location known as Easter Gate.
A narrative poem which details the story if our star-crossed lovers survived and were not quite that star-crossed.
ether writes 