Paul Stewart
Bio
Award-Winning Writer, Poet, Scottish-Italian, Subversive.
The Accidental Poet - Poetry Collection out now!
Streams and Scratches in My Mind coming soon!
Achievements (28)
Stories (1319)
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Marcel Duchamp: The Art of Moustaches and Mischief
I have written for the Art community before, and have also written about my disdain about the gatekeeping that exists in the world of art. It is something that put me off bothering with art for some time, much like opera and classical music. Fine art? I thought it wasn’t for a simple arsehole like me, Paul Stewart, from Glasgow. Turns out, I was wrong. Art is for everyone—so deal with it, art snobs.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Art
Be Your Own Advocate Challenge Apology and Update
Hey, quick question for all reading this - who's the guy who good-heartedly said he'd read three pieces by everyone who provided links in the comments, pieces they wanted to advocate for themselves? This guy. That's right.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Writers
Freedom or Fire?. Runner-Up in Future Fragments Challenge.
London Waterloo, 10 am, New Year's Eve, 2049 On the final day of 2049, a 45-year-old Anglo-African woman weaves through the crowd at London Waterloo, her eyes darting nervously. She sinks onto a bench beside an older Caucasian man, tears spilling as the clock strikes 10:30. She mutters, 'Sorry,' over and over, rising unsteadily. Her hand trembles as she pulls a gun from her coat pocket, the cold metal glinting under the station lights. Tears and sweat streak her face as passersby freeze, their conversations fading into horrified silence. Her fingers tighten around the cold metal. She thinks of her son—gone, taken by the UWO for questioning two years ago. She pictures his smile and how he laughed at her bad jokes. The tears come faster now, but her resolve doesn’t waver. "This is your fault, freedom or fire" are the last sad, fearful, but defiant words to leave her mouth before she pulls the trigger.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Futurism
Freedom or Fire, Future's Precursor
To anyone who may wish to listen, I am writing this when I should be focusing on the future. Weaving words I've picked up from here and there into a stuttered, not quite paradisaic, but hope-filled future. Two stories are on my mind that are begging to be told. But, my mind is fried. For the moment at least. My mind can't cope with weaving words... into a stuttered, realistic if still fanciful take on the future. The future we all have ahead of us. I will get there, but for now I am writing this ridiculous poem. A stab in the dark at clearing my mind a little, as I cough up all kinds of muck from my lungs and try to stay focused. I see various railway stations in my mind, a catastrophic ending of life in each around the world at the same time, relative to time zones. London Waterloo I was defeated, you won the war
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Fiction
