'Art ought to be of use in changing society'

Do you think I’m pretty?
As you glance over at me
Blonde hair
Long legs, skirt down to there
Child-like face
Ungraceful gait
Teenage skin
Gleeful grin
You’re all that matters to me
Of course, that’s why
I do this, wear that, act that way
I’m here for you to see and judge
Dismiss me or assist me
My life depends on that attention
I have no other cause

Do you think I’m pretty?
As you look me up and down
Pale shoulder
Hands colder
No make-up
Wide eyes; look
Sea coloured
Pink lips fuller
I’m here fo… Continue

This machine kills fascists. This machine is not a gun. This machine is not a weapon of any kind. This machine is not, God forbid, even a dairy product. This machine was a guitar, owned by folk singer Woody Guthrie in the 1930s and 40s. For me it is a symbol of peaceful protest in the face of the extreme right. Call me a hippy, but you can’t fight fire with fire; you’re just going to get burnt.

In the early 19th century there began a movement to attempt to gain women’s suffrage. In this there w… Continue

It was raining but I had decided not to care. I let the raindrops hit my face and drip off the end of my nose with no attempt whatsoever to keep dry. I was cold, wet and shivering in my thin jacket and my bag was getting soaked through. Still, I stood there stubbornly; waiting. I refused to let this abysmal weather have any effect on me. It suited my mood, at any rate. The rain would have hidden my tears if I had been crying, but I wasn’t. I probably should have been. Only, I just felt kind of a… Continue

This is actually related to the last short story I posted. It's set in the same world and has some of the same characters, but is from another point of view. I'd go back and read the other story first, but it does work on its own too I guess...

I wonder if you know what it’s like to die? No, of course you don’t. Nobody does, right? Nobody except me. I died once, but I was brought back to life. The man who brought me back to life, my guardian angel, he told me that I shouldn’t tell anyone about… Continue

A whirlwind danced wildly around us throwing debris in every direction possible. People were screaming and police sirens were flashing and whining. Everything was chaos. There was the sickly smell of blood polluting the air leaving no room to breathe; it clung horribly to the entire street. The wind was a clear and icy cold, chilling to the very bone. There must have been hundreds of people there from the noise of it, all screaming at each other in terror. I could taste the fear. I could feel th… Continue