Wednesday 5 May 2021

2 Poems by Marc Ten Low


In mental hospital,
Patients are issued with
A blank canvas.

The pouring of anguish
From the soul to the page,
Ugly and wretched,
Makes for embarrassment:

--Not good. I've no talent.
Inside out, a heavy heart.
Silence. Perspective. What does that mean?
These people are sick,
Sick, sick. Painting the walls,

Vomiting into toiletbowls,
Urinating on walls of shared dorms,
Followed by a mopping janitor
Swaying against the planted feet

Of us mouthing victuals,
Bleeding sarcasm in
Pronouncement, through thick lips and
Large unattractive eyes,
Hospital gown, nose, hair--

Who stalls
Beside the bucket pushed to move along,
To tell a sorry tale
Even Van Gogh couldnt ear,
Into time's endless corridor.


funny, but not funny
an eyeball could fit perfectly
inside a shotglass
and not wobble



I am a poet and multitalented artist living in Brisbane, Australia. I was a street magazine vendor for The Big Issue in Australia, in which I have been published several times. I remain an involuntary client of Mental Health Authority, and have been involuntarily hospitalised on about 20 occasions. I enjoy writing at strange times of the night and have also been previously published in journals such as Quadrant, Shot Glass Journal and Australian Children’s Poetry. My online blog is at

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