Today I will be engaging in the discourse, all thanks to Shloka. I smiled the entire time while typing this ode to a main character and I hope that this simple pop and dance joy finds you wherever you may be. HSM is a good look at the adolescent experience, but it’s no longer just a neutral one. It makes me wish that my own teenage years had been so easy. What about the films captured the imaginations of us real kids, and how is that wonder is now bound up in the fun of social media apps used by…

This is what two paintings 423 years apart have to say about feeling good post-pandemic. How the myth of Dionysus and his philosophical dynamism is in conversation with art, self-direction and the instability of choice, as the Covid-19 pandemic seemingly comes to an end.

What do you want the end of the coronavirus pandemic to look like? Do you have a particular hand you want to grab hold of? Does the end include hugging? No masks? Two bright and colourful ‘I’ve had my Covid vaccination’ stickers? Lavish pre-drinks and all nighters? …

Sonnet 2.

P.S Happy Birthday, I send all my unedited manuscript-style admiration to you on the wings of a peregrine.

A look at how climate change and colonialism operate together to displace a young black woman’s sense of self or as she exasperates, “How do I even begin to read the palimpsest of my home landscape, when there is a global climate crisis?”

On par with how I learn most things, I was on Instagram and saw a post a couple of months ago from the NatGeo account discussing what climate philosopher Glenn Albrecht has described as ‘Solastalgia’. Here is a quote from the caption:

‘…an idyllic Australian valley. They felt it when coal mines churned some of the valley’s green fields into gray pits. The mines created dust, noise, and light pollution. People left. Communities fractured. Some residents lost the sense of solace they once felt there. It took a lot of effort to describe. “It was like homesickness, except no one had left home,” Albrecht says. It was, instead, like some essence of home had left them.’

Solastalgia is an acute awareness that your environment and landscape has been overturned and distressed…

But I Break


Nehemie prayed for a distraction, prayed for fate, prayed for an earthquake. Anything to let go of his hand.

Instead she got Gloria.

Gloria was a girl she’d known from gymnastics. Well, sort of. When Nehemie was eight-years-old she was convinced that she would be the best gymnastics champion in the world. She begged to go to after-school classes in the dusty community church on Wednesdays. Her mother was reluctant, but thought, that dim horizon-thin thought, what if her Nehemie her own Shona baby was Olympic gold. …

I wrote the following poem immediately after reading 'The Cult of the Noble Amateur' by Rebecca Watts, a link to the Guardian summary here. Personally I don’t think that a poem has to change the world, but it at least has to take the readers hand and lead them through an undiscovered part of it.

Most importantly I have to be able to trust that the poet has discovered the full extent of what they are trying to say to me. …

But I Break


Nehemie let her hand fall and the flat keys slipped out of it. Tobi quickly glanced at her and bent down to pick them up. His glasses slipped forward a little, so his hand was by his face when he pushed them up to look at her, it felt too cinematic. Nehemie began shaking her head, he said “You dropped the keys what’s wrong?”

“Let’s keep walking?”


“Come on, let’s keep walking,” she interlaced her fingers in his and pulled him in her stride.

The keys jingled in the pocket of his basketball shorts, as they walked out…

A poem for Shloka, who inspires me to write better and more wonderful verse for the Keatsian lovers out there traversing the streets.

I am scared of being older,

The wither of Time’s sacred ass

In this apple. Orchard of lived souls,

everything is softly turning. To death

Surely I have stood. Here before and here after,

Surely I have nursed my own infant hopes. Before

This I have dug the entrance. My own ending:

I am my own life’s play thing each time.

Aloft from tree canopies, tall as they are

Ravaged by each seed of longing.

The applause…

Before everyone starts demanding that their internet timeline goes back to the way it was before, what was 'before' even like? Why does modern culture feel increasingly unstable or sometimes excessive? Why does the internet feel so endless? Who is determining Culture?

As I’m writing this I feel an uncomfortable tension between black lives matter activists hoping allies and other voices do not ‘burn out’ or forget what has been accomplished by the shift in focus; and at the same time I sense that a lot of ‘black square care bears’ are desperate for the focus to shift back to…

In the past few weeks it has become very apparent that the world for better or worse is going through a change, as the democracy created and practised by one of the most influential countries in the world is called to question. Where do refugees and minorities fit when the fundamental beliefs of many are met with resistance from the political policies of a few?

The Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 signed by President Lyndon B. Johnson, banned all discrimination against immigrants on the basis of national origin. Donald Trump is determined however to reverse this, to ban entire…

Marshea Makosa

she/her| writer & producer| author of grotesquely unaffected, of sapiens and stars & the creole pantheon project(forthcoming)| earnest earth scientist

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