Design a site like this with
Get started

Polemical Zine

Polemical Zine is a non-profit, online arts magazine which has no selection process – they publish pieces from ALL people, regardless of age, gender, sexuality, ethnicity, geographic location, and/or skill level.

Issue 14 of Polemical Mag saw me published again with a quick poem about the process of creating ‘Glamour’. This potent and powerful ritual echoes preparing for battle by applying war paint and has been a staple of pop-culture; think a sorceress adorning herself in some enchanted item and completely changing up her look. My poem reflects the everyday practice of glamour magic and how it can be used for both internal and external transformation.

The ninth issue of Polemical Zine covered the theme of QUESTION for which I produced a short poem on questions my friend and I had asked eachother, ones that stuck with me for just a little too long.

For the UGLY issue of Polemical I focused on my own avoidance of the concept of ugliness. Challening my usual presentation of objects as beautiful I wrote a short poem on the ugliness of being human.

Both of these poems seemed quite fresh and raw when writing, as if they were asking me for the answers themsleves.


Rose petals, papaya skin, placed patchwork
over bare face, hope and acne

Here in transformations lies, with power
to contort, control, conserve, confide

Luster sheen and royal purple scents
paint your eyes and lips with meaning

Here in glamour lies, with purpose
to create, and be oneself again

Take wood smoke, years of love, flowers
ointments, entanglements and become anew.


What would
you give up, for your
soulmate, one true
your voice
your holy sacrament
Sunday morning lazes
every Tuesday's night
the smell of cut grass
or petrichor
would you give up
sweet cinnamon
or old furniture
loaded arms
empty beds
or would you keep it all anyway
and hope.  

Only Natural

For so long, I have refused to see it
wanted no association, of any sort

my hair must be tousled leaves
not knotted roots and stumpy vines

my teeth must be sea-worn pebbles
not amber tombstones, cracking wide

my lips plush fruit in taste and style
not snarling bitter barbs of wire

But here I am, a collection of rust,
hair growth, fresh scabs and rivets

Here we all are, walking in chains
of wool and meat round loaded bones

ugly bloody and living, for so long
I refused to speak its name

for fear it would drag me down too
to the depths of an acid stomach

whisper not our name


Read Here

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this:
search previous next tag category expand menu location phone mail time cart zoom edit close