By Max Fox (VP Gender and Sexuality) In 2017, the Australian Human Rights Council released its landmark report ‘Change the Course’; a national insight on sexual harassment and assault on university campuses. Approximately 1400 QUT students provided survey responses to…
By Ty Weinert The moon sure is bright tonight. Katie stares up into the night sky as she lays on the damp grass. She blows her unkempt curly blonde hair out of her eyes to enhance her fading vision. She…
By Ellie Taggart We were silent in the car. Nothing but the breathing of two bodies, one young and thin, the other old and frail, both lying under a tarpaulin. The sounds of the world around us echoed in the space…
By Delila Bevan Zavadsky Pounding lights match pounding headache Swimming incessantly Metallic foil clings to skin Fleshy bodies- slippy and slimy, brush Conversation wet, lingering and dripping They’re smooching, smacking their lips They gurgle and bubble Wriggle and sway to hypotonic currents Gulp down bright…
By Nicholas Farrell Such a marvel; they scurry and screech, much like a Mother- who freaks once under feet. A dash, a dart- you barely see, just a glimpse and you judge to be. A pest ready to plunder; but we…
By Jennifer Haig Here you will find no walls of stone, nor roofs of leaves nor floor of bone. Follow the path and pull the door, you know the way your feet are sure. Each step you take will lead…
By Persis Lok To toss and turn and possibly tear in uhtceare for those unaware, redemption for the despaired Is your rightful love affair To linger between the slumber and soundness of a dormiveglia for one—all the space is yours To stretch and sheets…
By Juno “Junko” Toraiwa To be fair, I don’t want to write this poem As soon as it’s captured into a word Instantly, the meaning is lost polaroid snapped water colours smudging your voice down the corridor You don’t know how much…
By Anahita Ebrahimi Bag is in the river But I‘m waiting at the bank And tonight, as you hold him I‘m picking the ticks out And combing through the shrubbery Hush hush pussycat I was watching you last week Wicked…
By Jonathan O’Brien Today, I put down my foot: from now on, I write only love poems. This presents a problem, because I also write only when I am troubled. A large, uncrossable gap; an absent smile; the bed of…
