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ghost ships - Geoff Aitken

do you notice them the watchful, the weary, sometimes gaunt or busily hunched or seated, alone drawing, scribbling into closely guarded journals, or walking, forever walking avoiding contact, interaction, engagement - maintaining distance shepherding commuters from psychosis, paranoia, unwellness, either diagnosed or undiagnosed while a few, bolder, shout esoteric warnings to the crowd, curious onlookers or the sky –

symptomatic of the discarded, the misfit or the rejected they dot the urban landscape uncounted but monitored, lest they attack the shadows we cannot see


I am considered an 'emerging poet' at my local 'open mic' collective after joining them just last March. I don't shy away from my mental health past but people are still uncertain about the 'politics'. "Is he/she going to hurt/harm me?", or "am I at risk here?" "Mental illness, that means danger, doesn't it?"

I started 'reading' while I lived and worked in Alice Springs where I distanced myself from my 'illness' but received acknowledgement for my efforts. I have been writing for over fifteen years as a 'scribbler' but have recently become interested in becoming published and so have increased my efforts.

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