Thursday, 25 February 2010

A Letter to my Younger Self:

One day
you’ll discover the world
is littered with moons. Try
not to step on
all the broken


* * *

Seen quite a few of these floating round dA - there's a competition based around the concept. This isn't an entry for that, just a short sketch inspired by the idea.
It's interesting to think about: what you would say to your past selves if you had the chance...

Monday, 22 February 2010

Eating Disorders

The beautiful 'My Silent Undoing' by QueenAdreena

In a world where girls see over 400 advertisements a day telling them how they should look, and 40% of 8-14 year olds are dieting, it isn’t hard to see that eating disorders are a major problem. Eating disorders are estimated to affect 5 to 10 million females and 1 million males in the United States alone, binge eating disorder being the most common, affecting 3.5% of women and 2% of men, followed by bulimia and anorexia nervosa. Anorexia is the most deadly, with the highest mortality rate of any psychiatric disorder: the suicide rate is apparently up to 60 times greater than that of the general population.

In an advanced capitalist world, many more people are at risk of the causes of eating disorders such as stress, media-prompted peer pressure and (often media-prompted) low self-esteem than ever before. Eating disorders such as anorexia and bulemia in particular are spreading due to the cultural emphasis on thinness which is (especially) pervasive in western society. There is an unrealistic stereotype of what constitutes beauty and the ideal body type portrayed by the media, fashion and entertainment industries. As Dr Bryan Lask said, this 'cultural pressure on women to be thin is an important predisposing factor for the development of eating disorders.'

This week is National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. And this year, NEDA is calling for everyone to do just one thing: to help raise awareness and provide accurate information about eating disorders. I hope with this blog I've done something towards achieving this goal.

Saturday, 20 February 2010


They told me how winter
strung the skyline with garlands of
stars and staccato limbs, and how
the night air bit chapped lips. And
they told me

how these lips
sung as spring spun
sweet silence in a three
four tempo, lullabying the days
that crept like chloroform across their eyes. And how

summer sighed, and
collected their sleepdust where
the air ran low beneath the
rushes, the grasses, scratching
whispers into the sunlight, feathered
with dreams. And

they told me how autumn
was absent – still
broken from the fall. But no

body thought to tell me how
nature is shelved and flawed;
how time lags; and how

the seasons can be thrown away
in plastic bags.

* * *

Written for my school's poetry competition of which the theme was 'the seasons'.
I drafted and redrafted this so many times, and it has come a long way since the first draft. The subject matter has changed loads during this time, from the death of a loved one to climate change. I really, really wanted to get away from the massively over-used 'spring is like this, summer is like this...' structure that is a trap all too easily fallen into when writing about the seasons. Same with crappy metaphors with the weather echoing the seasons of someone's life.
So here is something that does not quite escape the trap, but does not fall straight into it.
Some days I love it, others I hate it. Definitely not competition-winning standard, but then I would never really choose to write a poem on the seasons, so it was enough of a task to write anything at all. Not sure if I'll submit it or not. I guess we'll have to see if I can muster up some more traditional poetry shizz before the deadline...

Tuesday, 16 February 2010

Vox Vitalis

my body is
made of paper; my
mind’s an open book. look -
my skin’s a palimpsest
of secrets, of
etched in vellum - your words,
imprinted in tissued flesh. each phrase spells
‘m a g i c’,
conjuring me into being: like origami, i am
folded into form. see –
my mouth
is an inkwell that
at the seams; my blood’s a
flood of sighs. the world
inscribes my paper bones with its whispers
(its flickers)
of life.
and thus,

i am myth,
and fiction. i am
the truth and
every lie.

i am a neverending story:
a paper bird who
trails a tail
of cursive words.

* * *

This is my entry for DLD's Anniversary Contest of which the theme was paper. This is actually a visual piece, but the file was too large to be posted here, so PLEASE go and see the 'real' version, in all its glory, here.
I learned to make origami cranes for it and everything, so I will be very upset if you don't... :)

And I have a question for everyone. Recently, I joined a new writers' group on dA that allows you to submit any lit. in your gallery to group where it will receive more critical reception. Which of my pieces (you can see them all in my dA gallery - you can also laugh at all my old drawings whilst your there!) do you think I should submit first / if at all? I would greatly appreciate your feedback!

Wednesday, 10 February 2010


i keep my hands outstretched
so that when i sense the night
bend towards me i might
catch a dream between my fingertips.

* * *

Something very short and simple I wrote a very long time ago now.

Just felt the need to update because I'm in a major poetry-mood at the moment. I've got several things in the pipeline at the moment - some competition stuff and some *le gasp* visual stuff - but they've still got to be finished and polished up, so they'll be a bit of a delay before they're up here, unfortunately.

But stay tuned for more poetry from the pen of Terra!

Sunday, 7 February 2010


Curtains draw: it’s 4 o’ clock and
the stage echoes with the sound of hearts beating
in tandem.

Listen –

I can hear you breathe
again; your breath seething
beneath my skin. Your
whispers fill the night with alkaline
and I am
heavy; heavy and
Your words weigh me,
and crack my sulphur lips
like kisses.


I never asked for this.

There’s a movement,
a balance shifting,
and the darkness begins to lift
like a veil.

The Other stirs and

And I,

I never answered: you
never let me – just kept me
locked up here, lodged somewhere inside
( ( your ribcage ) ), feeding me
on blood and bones,
acidic sticks and stones,
whilst I
am left fighting for air,
flighting heartwards.

But now it’s 4 o’clock and
your electric eyes cry moonshine, and
my heart beeps noisy beats
in tandem
with your own.

(beat beat - pause)

Listen –
can you hear it?

The stage opens up, and there is
a fleeting possibility of awake
before the day breaks.

We step into the spotlight and
our fingers lock together.
We are the key.
It fits!

Together we are
(halfhalf) and
- O -
everyone knows that
these two halves make
a hole.

* * *

Extract from Emilie Autumn's 'The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls':
'There is something that goes on in the minds of many manic depressives when entering into either a manic or a depressive state ... that nobody claims to understand, but that many bipolars in the far corners of the world can attest to, and that is the consistent waking up at four o'clock in the morning. And when I say four o'clock, I mean four o'clock on the fucking dot. ... And the thing is, you don't just wake up. You wake up with your mind racing, music churning over and over inside your head, the internal noise, words, pictures, absolutely unbearable...'

* * *

Can you believe this took far longer to format (and reformat, and reformat) than it did to write? I hate you, Blogger.
Another poems about the same fucking thing. You must be getting sick of these by now.
I know I am.
Written for a workshop on Speaking in Tongues that I'm hoping on entering. Please comment / critique it, especially keeping the idea of 'voices' in mind.

* * *

Emilie Autumn (how I love thou!) - her book, 'The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls' (which is incredible) and the song '4 o'clock' (one of my personal favourites!)
• 'my heart beeps noisy beats' is a subversion of 'my heart bleeps noisy beeps' - a song by Räuberhöhle (which you can download for free here)
• The phrase 'heartwards' was invented by absyntheminded, who suggested I use it for the random poem I wrote in creative writing the other day. I hope she doesn't mind if I commandeer it for this poem too (because it's beautiful)