Christoast Update – Honours, Poetry, Future and More! (Spooky Month Update)

It has been a hot minute since I’ve made a blog post, but boy has there been a lot going on in the last few months!

A poetry update:

  • Stagnation, the last poem of the ‘Autumn, That Bastard’ Poetry Collection will be posted in November.
  • Bubbles, the poetry collection coming out of Pen to Paper, will be finalised and released during November.

Currently what has eaten my time at university has been my honours project. While doing this research project, I am also completing my regular social work degree which as given me limited time for this website and my writing interests. However, there has been interesting strides and currently working on an Ethics Application to conduct the study. The project is about ‘Social work students’ views towards same-sex parenting’ and is a very interesting space indeed!

Another commitment I have started working on related to my university degree is a project for Rainbow Families where we are aiming to express the voices of children of LGBTQI+ parents, in a creative booklet form.

If you follow my twitter, you may see my Dungeons and Dragons is still going strong, with my Homegame now on Session 45. You can check out the wiki I’ve got going for it here.

Road Ahead:

I finish this semester this week and will dedicate more time to my other writing endeavours.

  • Towards the end of November, I will be doing Extra Life once again, the 24 hour live stream charity to raise funds for sick children. All you need to do to support me is to visit the stream, share with your friends and if you are financially able to, support my fundraising efforts!
  • Another writing project after ‘Autumn, That Bastard’ is finished and all Authors Comment sections are done!

And there is still plenty more after that! So stay tuned by following this blog and following my social media below.

The Apocalypse Cometh

By Christos Floratos

Some say the world

Will let out its last whimper

In a swirl of blaze and frost.

 

But I know better than some.

For I was young when I saw it come.

The lightning struck and struck,

And then some.

A week where it spiked

A month of humidity’s fight.

A year of reason’s most gallows.

                             A love child of melted ice and Australia’s burn

Against those olden-minds’ saying, most hollow:

“But it’s too chilli!”, would encourage a churn

 

Don’t you understand the cold?

The wrath of the blizzard is

just the warmth of hell

seeping through the oil-cracks in the earth

and condensing in the smog above.

 

The warning signs shocked you but

The tremors will rock you to

Your feet, your soles, your souls.

Waves of polyester swamp our beaches

And deep- beyond blue Mariana -are

remanets of Mickey, Cola and your groceries.

 

 

The old will give one more hazardous cough

and our world will be untold.

 

For

We’ve had our last summer

And Autumn’s killed its last tree.

Winter will be the mistress after the affair

And Spring will surely forget us.

 

After we are gone,

The worms will not remember their banquet on us

              For even they will die soon after their feast and celebration.

Ash shall not be gentle reminders on the mantle

              For we shall break down to our bare atoms.

 

For those preachers of old,

The Apocalypse Cometh

-not one of undead, technology or

some forsworn rapture –

But a carrion, inhibited by us.

A fever on the earth, calmed, cared and chilled by oil flames.


 ©  Christos Floratos 2019

Sneak Peek: The Apocalypse Cometh

The Penultimate Poem of the ‘Autumn, That Bastard’ Poetry Collection. What do you imagine when you think of the end of the world? This poem is a rejection of some traditional concepts of the Apocalypse.

Full Poem is Out This Friday!

With Comfort and Ease (Poem)

By Christos Floratos

Website Version Here

 

How can you tell a gymnast to be careful?

Why, anything but danger would be a little dull.

Scamper up the rope, dribble the pole.

 

Feet ahead; toes curled ready for embrace

              (against the dirt blue).

Performance is our virtue; love is what they grimace.

 

What other purpose is the thrill than to be

Higher than God.

Mt. Olympus has dazed us with aromatherapy.

Oracles scatter seizing our souls.

 

We only commune with the Deadly Seven.

I do not expect the proletariat to understand.

What you share is a pillow,

My offering is more than a simple piggy-bank.

Our stake is within the riptide, wherever it may take us.

 

Perhaps through the vast oceans where the unknown lies;

 we lie.

Though we may ask above, what is below we may never know.

Throw away deaf ears for those bona fide will confide.

 

 

Don’t be afraid to gleam into the light above.

The water is our bed so scream into the pillow.

Vulnerability is our right swipe, fitting as a glove.

 

Though we are frightened of how it leaks,

I trust whatever agenda we both hide,

is so we can dance along the strings of mystiques,

for our skin may be as tough as hide,

and I do not fear the nails of Dominique.

 

Expectation is their gospel verse.

 

We won’t follow their structures laid before.

Abandon the billboards! Dust off their seeds.

A tight hand is laxer than an open casket.

Where we can laugh at our demise,

Sing obtusely and while impulse drives you up.

Sweet Fervour.

Why be afraid of daises, watch me grab them.

© Christos Floratos 2019

Sneak Peek: With Comfort and Ease

The 11th Poem of the ‘Autumn, That Bastard’ Poetry Collection. We’re almost at the end. In two weeks time, the penultimate poem ‘The Apocalypse Cometh’ will be released.

‘With Comfort and Ease’ is in its basic form, about heading into situations head first.

Toast Update – WHRA Blog Posts, Pen to Paper Poems Update and Other Things!

Being on a university break has oddly produced the same amount of business than being on placement for four days a week, who would have figured. Recently I have completed a secret project that I am not yet allowed to talk about, to literally like anyone! In the coming weeks I will be finishing and sending off the Pen to Paper poetry collection to donors. As a result of this, my author’s comments sections and What The Heck Am I Rambling About (WHRA) blog posts may have some changes.

Later this week I will be posting the 11th Poem of the ‘Autumn, That Bastard’ Poetry Collection. Also some updates concerning the end of July.

What The Heck Am I Rambling About Blog Posts!

I will continue to do these and the Author’s comment sections. For ‘In Honour of Summer’, ‘With Comfort and Ease’, ‘The Apocalypse Cometh’ and ‘Stagnation’ these will be released after the last poem (Stagnation) is released. There are two pretty interesting reasons for this. Three of these poems are very interpretative and I love my readers to pull what meaning they desire out of these poems. Also, with my time limitations due to things I’ve been working on, after the collection is released will give me the time to fully write up these sections to write about these poems.

Pen to Paper Poems

The PDFs are on track to completion by Mid-July, where everyone who contributed to the Pen to Paper fundraiser towards my goal shall receive a copy! Those who contributed $50 or more will be getting a physical bound copy. I will be uploading these poems to my site at the start of August for everyone to share, with a link to Story Factory in case you missed out and would like to donate to their wonderful organisation!

Other Things and New Plans

There will be a blog post about some insights from the recent Supanova Convention I attended this last weekend. Also, I find out soon about the fellowship which as gotten me hyped. The end of July will bring the start of a new semester of uni, where I will revert to one blog post a week. I anticipate I will be covering things that have interested me from the units/subjects I am doing.

After August, I will be starting a new exciting fiction project, which will be different from the poetry of the first half of this year! At the end of July, I am also starting an Honours program that I will complete co-currently with my Social Work Degree! I am super excited for what’s coming in the next bit and to share my journey along the way!

In Honour of Summer (Poem)

By Christos Floratos

Website Version Here


After a day or two, it will be gone.

Catch it by the collar while you still can,

or it will wag it’s tail never ending at the thought…

 

The walk that will last forever.

We march on-

So far that you may choose to rest on a bench

-gaze at the incoming storm from the fire afore.

Volcanic ash permits the thunderstorm.

 

Smile, smile.

Remember that smile as

The lightening damsels in the cloud

Closing and closing in. It branches

-All reacting more of the same-

But as dreadful as ash in winter

 

Stand here watching, so it won’t be much of a shock.

Smile, for the road behind was worth it.

Gleam for your childhood and

be joyful for your sins.

 

They have no matter now

as the trees are shaken down

to the core, the root, the soil.

 

From green to blue,

as white as ash.

All colours matter to the sound of grief.

Silence is your virtue in the open as you

cower from the storm.

 

Still, you have marched all this way.

Enjoy the rolling thunder that rocks the dirt.

Aren’t you thankful for what summers brought?

This lighting circling you, appreciate the sky’s glamour!

Why, any other response would kill a god! Maybe two.

 

You’ve marched away from the fire,

Ordained in blacken char carpets are preachers, pillars and podiums.

For a life that once was.

A grotto that wasn’t just dust.

 

Ode to a memory of pollen filled forests.

 © Christos Floratos 2019

‘In Honour Of Summer’ – Poetry Sneak Peek (Autumn, That Bastard)

In Honour of Summer, the 10th poem of the ‘Autumn, That Bastard’ poetry collection, will be out Saturday this week!

Next week I find out if I have made it into the Write It Fellowship! I also have an article coming up for the Writing Community Newsletter!

Stay tuned for more!

Grey House – What the Heck am I Rambling About? #9

‘Grey House’ takes on the persona of a young child who eagerly goes into a new home, an apartment complex, with their mother. Rather quickly, the child becomes exposed to harsh realities and becomes disillusioned with the excitement of moving to a new place, and the conditions that led them there.

What the Heck am I Rambling About is a series of blog posts where I breakdown a work I have created and shared. You can read the poem here if you aren’t caught up!

Someone has commented that these series of blog posts and the Author’s comments section are going to be useful tools for HSC students in the future. A very flattering comment and I think when I did the HSC I would have loved it if the people I was writing about how done a blog series like that. Alas, the prescribed texts were all mostly dead white men.

Set out – almost barefoot. Along my journey

on the cigarette path, I met Crystal, Molly,

was tracked by a Dragon and became BFs with Mary Jane.

Stanza 5

There is only two stanzas that have the optimistic tone, perhaps misguiding the reader due to the child’s curiosity. When the child’s life starts to break down, she becomes systematically disempowered, first starting with the bare necessities such as electricity and then at school by teachers who punish them for being late, not at the fault of the child. Those who the child meets on the way aren’t people but the code names for different drugs. The child being Best Friends with Mary Jane (Marijuana) is a comment of how this unregulated use for people in such fragile states can act as a gateway drug. The reader can take away what that type of relationship would be for a young person. Is Best Friend also someone for life in this instance, denoting a pessimistic point of view that they cannot escape? Or, like a fleeting childhood friendship, will the child escape it eventually?

I had to leave that woman when I came of age.

For she said we’d be home by autumn’s end.

Stanza 6

When I Came of Age” is subjective. Does she mean when she became an adult? Or when the child could legally move on from her mother at the age of 16 (in many western countries)? Or perhaps when she realised when her mother wasn’t good for her. The term Autumn’s end is meant to symbolise that this move was supposed to be a grace period in the mind of the child. The excitement of a new place perhaps shadowed the permanency of such a living situation the child was not ready for. The line also shows that there was a desire to return to the past life, before the Grey House. However, like a great number of cases, this return isn’t always as conceptualised. Referring to her here as that woman is the last time she is given a gendered identity. When the mother becomes labelled as parent at the end, it is revealed that the child still conceptualises somewhat of a caretaker role, but not in the typical narrative of the maternal bonds.

She was neither the executioner nor the criminal

but the wife of the bread-thief.

Stanza 7

Throughout the poem, there’s no direct attack against the mother, just comments about the unruly life. As the child ‘grows up’ they become more aware of her mother’s context. The child expresses sympathy for her mother, which is captured in this line. The metaphor of the bread-thief alludes to their situation, which suggests that her previous father did petty crime to support their family, which has led to the current life. The mother was responsible for the situation or the person who created the situation. In the same way, the child is linked to her mother as they are not responsible. Although neither are deserving of the ‘Grey House’, they both end up in that life, a sad common tragedy experienced by people with similar hardships.

This poem has been heavily inspired by my social work experience. This is perhaps the most tangible of the ‘Autumn, That Bastard’ collection. To leave you with some thoughts think:

  • What happens now to the girl? What happens to the mother?
  • Is this a cyclical life-event, like the season of Autumn? Or has the child realised their predicament and overcome it?

I hope you enjoyed this rambling and you can find some more ramblings below.

Grey House (Poem)

Website Version

Christos Floratos

 

Mommy asked me what I thought

of the Grey House.

So tall. Was all ours. Spring was a few seconds away.

Earth to sky. You could even see the clouds pass on by.

Mommy smiled when I jumped in glee.

 

Mommy asked me where the sky ended.

Why, at the top of our Grey House, of course!

And that’s where we went.

Right to the top, gazing where fans swirled, and birds lost all their feathers.

Mommy laughed when I said mine was what the light touched.

 

But the darkness was Mom’s own.

She had raged warfare before but nothing as

the campaign she waged on the phone.

There were many battles lost and Mom neither

 

won that war. The damned operators she wrestled.

The grey hut was starting to shamble

and the darkness of Mom’s words transfixed

themselves with the light bulbs,

and those showers thereafter returned the childhood achoos.

 

I was reprimanded for being late at school,

But mother was bedridden. What was I to do?

Set out – almost barefoot. Along my journey

on the cigarette path, I met Crystal, Molly,

was tracked by a Dragon and became BFs with Mary Jane.

 

I had to leave that woman when I came of age.

For she said we’d be home by autumn’s end.

But there I sat in

an apartment that made squalor shiver,

and a boyfriend here, and over there.

 

She cried when my departure loomed overhead.

She was neither the executioner nor the criminal

but the wife of the bread-thief.

I was the void between Venus and Mars,

Water and a pot-plant balcony garden constituted my celestial body.

 

That woman, her promise of a time yonder our

dilapidated apartment…

was a dream of hollow mines and sore minds.

Maybe I will return to her; she was my parent, after all.

This was an exodus much sooner than expected.

 

© Christos Floratos 2019