TWEET FROM ENGELS A POEM
In early 2011, poet Philip Davenport and artist Lois Blackburn met with many homeless people in Manchester, England and asked them to describe their lives. Some of this writing and talking was gathered into a long, many-voiced poem. Tweet from Engels was first launched as a twitter feed and is now this book.
Thank you: All the people we met whose words are herein And Amanda Croome and everyone at the Booth Centre Sandra and the welcome at The Red Door The Big Issue in the North: Gemma, Jane, Nathan, David and his cuppas Fairfield Hospital Paul Fulton, Sue Scott at Bury MBC The Text Festival The ineffable Tony Trehy Dedicated to Penny Anderson
Credits Edited by Philip Davenport and Rebecca Guest Design by Steve Giasson Cover images from the arthur+martha postcard series a map of you – adapted cards kindly donated by the Lowry Centre, Salford isbn 978-0-9568584-8-1 an apple pie edition / an arthur+martha project Supported by Arts Council England
TWEET FROM ENGELS
tweet from engels= yr info about conditions in #Manchester is of gr8 interest 2 me// th newspapers having chosen 2 draw a veil over #fred 14 Jul panic attacks back 2 th wall got 2 draw a quiet veil #brion 15 Jul cant breathe every1 walks right thru u jumpin 1 side 2 th other #brion 15 Jul in th city its stressful 2 me very cos u cant move in // space #brion 15 Jul
go thru 2 quiet avail #brion 15 Jul quiet place in th cathedral where they know me they trust // me I think of it as sanctuary #brion 15 Jul the flock // thrush in th mornin same 1 that // wakes me #brion 15 Jul dead bird in th tank again feathers comin out // taps need a sieve // 2 live in #comfort + joy + not hav hassle from th landlord #anon 16 Jul
15 people sharin u cant sleep all day arguments police come // 2 view 2day my new flat 2 years waitin get furniture fix my #home #anon 16 Jul now Ive got this place let no1 kno where // #drunk bangin on door hes my mate // hell let me in #open doors+windows #anon 16 Jul adults r like scared // ol lady grabs her handbag #closed // people see me in th wingmirror lock th door innit #anon 16 Jul wots th magic word? // please? abracadabra? #anon 17 Jul
every1s th same colour = am i a thug? no just chillin me jus a little chiller = buzzr gets me up last nite slept on th #dogsquilt #anon 17 Jul even tho I do nothin I jus wanna sleep #anon 17 Jul gettin #drunk vodkacoke drinkin in cars men we meet // u jus cant 4get it hurts cant move on #anon 17 Jul // some days jus dont wanna be here again // daylight has been so exhaustd #anon 18 Jul
see us not workin + livin in #homeless #hostels they think bad things // dont see = wot happened #anon 19 Jul most interestin mr bok 19 Jul Favorite Retweet Reply I dont tell any1 where im livin // its embarrassin #anon #homeless #hostel 19 Jul prostitution is th thing he puts his foot down on // if I go back 2 that I kno th relationship is over #anon 19 Jul so tender a concealment #fred 19 Jul
in a bedsit ÂŁ missin door kickd in cellphone missin dont want that again = in bedsit noise traffic commotions // whisperin windows #anon 20 Jul survival instinct is more prominent in th #homeless // society wears blindfolds #kit 20 Jul I wake up + think oh no another day will I walk in2 sum1 whos generous //? //or a fist #kit 20 Jul alcohol + drugs get u thru th nite // like prisoners #kit 20 Jul
#comfort = a big word when u think of it = warmth is th main 1 Id say warmth like an emotion #krystof 21 Jul family push-u pull-u in again or Id be out of here = a bullet from a gun // a changing face #krystof 21 Jul yr hand = comfort a warm feeling in th pit of yr stomach + a glow in th mind nice + toasty #krystof 21 Jul #comfort = a big word when u think of it = warmth is th main 1 Id say warmth like an emotion #krystof 21 Jul
1 person I can trust // myself // I rely on chaos #jackson 22 Jul #fred I discovered this scrawl on th day after my return from Manchester 22 Jul as much as I like 2 work Im lazy #dooley 22 Jul relaxin in front of th telly keeping out of trouble cos I’ve always been in trouble #comfort #dooley 22 Jul
making tea here working 4 nothing I don’t mind tho theyr grateful for a cuppa comfort #dooley 23 Jul a cuppa+toast warmsem again// after theyve had their methadone #dooley 23 Jul #homeless gr8ful 4 a cuppa theyr freezin // if u use yr please+thanku = theyll say it back #dooley 23 Jul I don’t make this many brews @ home // people I kno on th streets theyr grateful 4 a cuppa theyr freezin #dooley 23 Jul
keeping occupied = keeping out of trouble makin tea here #dooley 23 Jul #dooley keeping 23 Jul cant sleep sleep 15 people sharing all th day arguments = 2years #erik 24 Jul this 2 me is a big thing // yr own place // people alone can breathe #erik 24 Jul
my little home furniture fix up 3 items 30 pounds th need 4 shelter doors + windows // th need 4 shelter #erik 24 Jul interrupted by beerhouses #fred 24 Jul #drunk banging th door // gin // all day arguments // police // 15 people sharin // u cant sleep again // people alone can breathe #erik 25 Jul Ive got this place let no1 kno where #erik 25 Jul
my little home = breathe th place fix it up as u please // as u please #erik 25 Jul // we just get on // climb th ladder so ppl who judge us we can look down on them // a job a husband #jay+jay 26 Jul a citadel looks #fred 26 Jul 2 survive in a tent inna quarry = its hidden got bottles of water from tesco // got up again // had a bbq hadda wash #anon2 26 Jul
#anon couple living in tent // mortals of small stature #fred 26 Jul looking 4 food money no help bt we got to survive// in a tent// in a quarry #anon couple living in tent 27 Jul the need of a shelter #fred 27 Jul days different everyday // again // I dont know a normal # anon2 27 Jul got a couple bottles of still water // got up had a bbq a wash got our washing + brought it here = red door #anon couple living intent 27 Jul
I live temporary #shelley 28 Jul my kids arent allowd cos all th rules #victimsupport theyr across th road from me // in them #hostels hard2getout #shelley 28 Jul get a #badroommate + thats it get put out #homeless when I get a place 1st thing Ill do is get my kids room ready #goodreport #shelley 28 Jul [I jus live temporary no support //th reports not easy // I’ll get my kids room ready // theyre cross th road from me] #shelley 28 Jul
2 get settled in them #hostels // 2 cheap// its 2 easy// need 2 get standin on yr own 2 feet #shelley 29 Jul them #hostels 2 easy 2 getta #badroommate // make a mistake #drunk gin they’ll put u out again #shelley 29 Jul # they gave me a good report #shelley good #marx 29 Jul 1st thing Ill do when I get a place is get my kids room ready #shelley 29 Jul
I just want 2 get a bit of structure #shelley 29 Jul they section u inject u giv u #medication // rpt prscrption // how can they tell? = u can see in a mans eyes bt cant see in his mind #lev 30 Jul [homeless people cannot pray on section // medication 2day // with normal people away // 2 undrstand wot we say] #lev 30 Jul we r all space // we r all nothin // nothin matter // s #lev 30 Jul
problems = an invis()ble rucksack #lev 30 Jul blank u class u walk past u // dont hav // time is a lot harder got 2b tuff inside no relaxin when yr #homeless #philipk 31 Jul blank u class u walk past u // #philipk 31 Jul got 2b tuff no relaxin when yr #homeless #philipk 31 Jul I want my slippers #philipk 31 Jul
im a big believr in positiv thinkin itll b bettr itll b right gets u by positivity like gravity #likeattractslike = sunflowers come up #saul 1 Aug #rai my friend got murdered ystrday backdoor open lights on = stoppd // that was th last time I // spoke 2 her he batterd her again #rai 1 Aug bein a #survivalist = nite police torches #rai 1 Aug I was born here in #memories // #memories r th reason I remain #rainer 2 Aug
cruel u never wear th same face ive tried so hard to follow // my path bt got lost in th human race #rainer 2 Aug walk past a restaurant // smile @ them thats th mask // I wont let them see me hungry #rainer 2 Aug pass thru these lanes + glance thru open doors + windows in2‌ #fred 2 Aug [cant go on th balcony fleein // vision of walls fallin // split second 2 get back in // gettin too old for fightin] #sal 3 Aug
I see buildings collapse // prostitutes down th end of th street drugdealers evry 10 steps #sal 3 Aug ageing // used 2 work yknow #middleclasscommission // every1 fights 4 th best pitch #sal 3 Aug #areascrap #everythingscrap #sal 3 Aug a #brew + a fag person // brews 1st thing I think of // I get up no electric 5 cigs + a #brew #sal 4 Aug
different class of customer Good Mornin Sir // other places its Alright Cock // hacked it out 2 weeks door2door // I was happier b4 I was... 4 Aug [enjoyin life = relaxin wit a brew // u workin 4 nothin // Ive bin in trouble payin // 4 a cuppa theyr freezin] #dooley ditto 4 Aug prostitutes down end of street 10step drugdealers // they wont mend it // their idea of mending = silicone #sal 4 Aug
Ive more #silicone than ceiling th air full of dust // piss out fluff #silicone sal 5 Aug can’t go on th balcony // Im fleeing domestic violence #silicone sal 5 Aug fuckin cryin // 2 old 4 fightin round th houses #silicone sal 5 Aug Ive got visions of walls = holes = walls #silicone sal 5 Aug fleein again // domestic violence // a split // second nobody takes notice #silicone sal 6 Aug
asthmatic air #silicone sal 6 Aug pigeonshit cant open th window // pigeonshit cant go on th balcony // pigeonshit + no electric // th air is full of dust #silicone sal 6 Aug Ive got visions of #silicone sal 6 Aug get up 1st thing 7.30 do + hour in th gym #robbieb 7 Aug tidy up come here// help out make a mean cup of #tea #robbieb 7 Aug
decorating // #robbieb 7 Aug stimes all day here #robbieb 7 Aug looking 4 voluntary work// cant work proper cos of my illness // stimes all day here #robbieb 8 Aug nothing else much 2 do #robbieb 8 Aug I dont have friends keep myself 2 myself its th best way #robbieb 8 Aug
evening probably do bit more at th gym// chill out rest// nite // repeat #robbieb 8 Aug used 2 hav a lot of ppl judging me // other ppl see me different #robbieb 9 Aug I judge myself 4 not bein #normal // dont judge ppl b4 u know em #robbieb 9 Aug calling em names + everything // cos of th clothes they wear #robbieb 9 Aug
best part of th day = gym // repeat #robbieb 9 Aug working most of my life since 14 when I started washing pots in a hotel get bored now #scottf 10 Aug that’s how I started chef-ing till my wife left me + life // fell apart #scottf 10 Aug somedays good somedays rubbish = just drinking th day away #scottf 10 Aug
we got a lot of neighbours + that if yr drinking all day spend a lot of time looking for money 2 days a week on it like a car bonnet #scottf 10 Aug 7 yrs ago I’s homeless #suze with schizophrenia // Im not a druguser bt when Im ill + dont know what Im doin // end up on drugs #suze 11 Aug recurring #fred 11 Aug #amphetamines hi as kite + scared of th dark #suze 11 Aug
I loved it cos I was scared of th nite I didnt have 2 sleep #suze #amphetamines 11 Aug weed + whizz #suze 12 Aug I dont think I had a daily routine except chaos // repeat #suze 12 Aug doctors think Im a miracle #suze totally #normal now never slept went about 6 1/2 stone // tiny vulnerable #suze 12 Aug
ended up in #hostels where everyones taking drugs + that // come here taken me 7 yrs 2 get here #suze 12 Aug ive got a degree in bein abused #suze 13 Aug I was v bizarre I stoppd traffic at 2am bt th #medications brilliant // u wouldnt believe #transformation #suze 13 Aug weed + whizz #suze 13 Aug doctors think Im a miracle #suze 13 Aug
day starts drinking same as him over yonder between 5 + 9am #dylan 14 Aug D.E.N.I.A.L dont even know I’m lying #dylan 14 Aug JD tennants special brew vodka whatevers going #dylan 14 Aug what is 2 become of those destitute millions who consume 2day what they earned ysterday? #fred 14 Aug
appetite been thu th roof been off th smack 4 month // just a little smoke once a week changed 1 4 th other #dylan 15 Aug always getting munchies on th bud smoking th weed so I should put on // more x weight #dylan 15 Aug Ive an addictive addictive persnality #dylan 15 Aug staying @ his @ th moment #sofasurfing // done so much of that its done my back in #dylan 15 Aug hangover doesn’t exist #dylan 16 Aug
only time I drink a #brew cos I’m alcoholic is when I have sthing 2 eat #dylan 16 Aug I go round askin 4 40p’s saying Im #homeless #dylan 16 Aug mum gave me luminous socks when I was 11 // dad threw em out #dylan 16 Aug dad would take th xmas cards take th money rip th card + say u never got a card from yr mum #dylan 17 Aug
born on a farm grew up on haymaking // left home moved in with this bird 7 yrs older #dylan 17 Aug split with her went to stay with my older sister // 1st nite I was there she had me injecting #amphetamine #dylan 17 Aug #dylan u don’t want ur brother or sister sticking needle in u 17 Aug what happened? lifes a big slope + I fell down it // repeat // found th nearest slope + skedaddled down #dylan 18 Aug
best part of th day feel fuckin #normal #dylan 18 Aug what can I do for my girlfriend? #dylan 18 Aug sara l // luv her 2 bits + never hurt her do actually love her 2 bits + want kids with her a little girl // luv her 2 death #dylan 18 Aug [enjoyin life = relaxin wit a brew // u workin 4 nothin // Ive bin in trouble payin // 4 a cuppa theyr freezin] #dooley again 19 Aug
im wrapped up see th sun // move on from where I am // been lost a few times #hanif 19 Aug daily routine going out watching sport ... err jogging run (just get another cake again) running track #hanif 19 Aug I don’t run that far #hanif 19 Aug get th bus + GO 2 th calm 2 th peaceful // I kno where Im goin // it chills me wakes me // it bores me th city daily #brion 20 Aug
I like to walk when th lights goin Im comin // #home I kno exactly where #brion 20 Aug th smell th cold breezy air th sound // thrush in th morning = same one that // wakes me #brion 20 Aug avik = a face not jus a construction let me in thru open doors + windows // broken windows of england #avik 20 Aug much people dont have history if u dont have history u dont be people #avik 21 Aug
manchester have slang // latvia have songs #avik 21 Aug [remembr history in song “no windows // yr heroes r all gone� // it is football in prison // dont hav history no union] #avik 21 Aug if u dont know who u r who u can be // dont know yr neighbour yr grandfather yr grandgrand father // who are u? #avik 21 Aug who are u? #avik 22 Aug
a child in this country wants football // th child is in football prison // inside with broken windows #avik 22 Aug if u dont have history u don’t be people #avik 22 Aug a citadel looks down from behind its high walls #fred 22 Aug behind broken windows mended with oilskin // sprung doors // rotten door-posts // in dark-wet cellars #fred 23 Aug
= nothing said // nothing sung #fred 23 Aug damp air of England = hats of diverse age // round high broadbrimmed narrow-brimmed #fred 23 Aug brilliant shops of th best sort // interrupted by beerhouses // towering in their slender = th beautiful massive walls of new #fred 23 Aug here flows th Medlock with countless windings // women and children swarm #fred 24 Aug
catch from th street a glimpse #fred 24 Aug pass thru these lanes + glance thru = open doors + windows in2‌ #fred 24 Aug the need of a shelter #fred 24 Aug
BLOG EXTRACTS
AN AFTERWORD BY PHILIP DAVENPORT
Wednesday, 23 February 2011 a map of you - day one This is very new territory for us, our first project with homeless and vulnerably housed people. We're asking the folk we work with to talk or write about Manchester as they encounter it and to inscribe postcards with their experiences and visions. We're constructing a kind of tourist Manchester, but seen from the point-of-view of homeless people. 9.30am sitting at a little metal table with vendors E and K in the Big Issue foyer. Vendors come in here from 8am onwards, picking up copies of the magazine to sell and then hurrying off to their pitches to catch the rush-hour customers. There's a breakfast club, tea from an urn and toast served by the goodhearted D, a godsend if you've been freezing on the streets of Manchester rough sleeping. "A cuppa tea warms em up. People like it after they've had their methadone," says D.
Most people need to sell so the respite from cold and wet is brief, then they're on the street again. I have a memory flash of the scout camps of childhood, the smell of outdoors on damp clothes, the chill and the welcome burn of tea in my throat. But here faces are scoured of colour, many are scooped to an astonishing thinness. Clothes are over-big and worn like a shell, a dwelling. E and K talk to us with great openness. They describe years spent in hostels, the vertigo that comes when you fall through the gaps in the safety net, the struggle to swim back up to the surface, to be part of society not apart. The difficulty of finding peace, privacy and the great impossible longing for home, whatever form it might take. As we talked, Lois and I made notes and the notes were transcribed by the participants, or ourselves onto the postcards. The method used for the cards was devised by our
friend, the artist Anneke Kuipers. A tourist postcard has the main feature of the view cut out of the picture on its front and stuck to the back. Text is written into the white space on the front and around the displaced image on the back. The pieces were quick to make on this cold morning (Lois had prepped them earlier) and intriguing enough to hook people's interest. A vendor jotted a memorium for a friend who'd just died. We had a struggled conversation with Roma vendors that ended in laughter and two Roma words for me – vacance (holiday) and hostol (you can perhaps guess that one). Working alongside us was Gemma, a Sociology student working as a volunteer at The Big Issue, with a big line in friendliness. The afternoon session at The Booth Centre was a longer, structured workshop and became an exploration of both the familiar and strange. We discussed Manchester and the layers of memory in it for all of us. As the group talked, revisiting
these familiar places, a togetherness was conjured up. But it was punctured with little shafts of scare. At the centre of the discussion was R who has lived his (long) life in this city and sleeps rough here. He knows the tunnels, the crypts, the air-raid shelters, the forgotten places, the quiet. We made a group recollection of the city and then more postcards, these funnier and harsher, as the group gained confidence. Then some one-to-one individual pieces, exploring vulnerabilities. And suddenly the end was upon us, as they say.
Thursday, 3 March 2011 Warmth is an emotion The breakfast club at the Big Issue office on Swan Street has jumped focus. From being an alien faroff atmosphere, it’s becoming familiar to the eye. But I’ve the feeling that much more is to be revealed. We’re getting a hazy sense of the rhythm of the place and the breaks in the rhythm too. We ourselves are obviously one of the breaks in that rhythm, taking up one of the central tables in the room and asking questions about (of all things) comfort. There’ll be a flurry of people for maybe 20 minutes and then there’s time to in-breath for 5 and then it all starts again. There are many story fragments with all the arriving/departing faces, but only a few resolve into something clearer. This will be the nature of our morning sessions – we’re the constant and people pass the time of day with us, making little contributions to the
project. Then every once a while somebody launches in fully. I asked J about comfort and he replied: ‘You wouldn’t want to know about my comfort.’ The way he said it begged a question, so I asked and we talked about the beautiful comfort of heroin. It was the most passionate declamation I’ve ever heard for the drug, a true love letter. The gear: pleasure beyond words, (as all pleasure is) beyond money, beyond sex, the great problem solver that melts all worries, an 18-year affair still fresh. Then more intermittent talking and S arrived with us, made a cup of tea, stretched out for a long talk. ‘Comfort? A brew and fags.’ But deeper comfort eluded her, she said. She was living in a nightmare of brokenness – the holes in the ceiling, the urban wreckage around her, the shit. ‘I have visions of walls falling.’ S reckoned she’d been happier in hostels, B+Bs and on the street than in her flat. All she was left with there was
the irony of getting a place and then feeling worse in it than before. S stayed with us an hour, before she went out to sell magazines. I looked around the room: a ground floor office perhaps 20 feet wide and 30 long, bisected with a counter, on one side ‘staff’ and their desks and computers, on the other side ‘vendors’ with metal tables, computers to surf, a tea-urn and a flow of conversations, assignations, deals. Lino floored, utility decorated and scuffed through constant use. A neutral room, not by any lights a luxurious place – and yet a haven. Not dirty, just heavily used, worn a little smooth by all it witnessed. In the afternoon we had a small group, due to the fine weather. People would be out in the sun, drinking maybe. But, as often with smaller groups, we were able to sharpen our attention. We honed the idea of comfort. C pinned it: comfort is warmth and warmth, though not an emotion per se stands for emotion. Warmth in the pit of the stomach. The false glow, or the real
thing, it’s what we all crave. ‘Warmth is an emotion.’
Thursday, 17 March 2011 Instinct 'Your survival instinct is there all the time, in everyone. It's just more prominent in the homeless.' We've had a muted and gentle introduction to the life of homeless people. Everyone has been kind, courteous and explained what must have been painfully obvious to them. In a way this is our job, to ask naive questions, and to be sounding boards for whatever bounces back. The sessions today had the lid torn off, particularly by three people. In the morning at The Big Issue office L chatted to us about positive self-image - and the sometimes desperate need to maintain it. Her story unspooled - her life as a prostitute and the path she'd taken back from that. It was told in such a matter-of-fact way, with humour and warmth, that it hit the harder.
Then in the afternoon at The Booth Centre S - who was in an alcohol fury - launched into a full diatribe, a rant about his world and the misunderstanding from others that locks him into it. I felt like a hapless do-gooder, applying sticking plasters to a disaster. But anger is a great energy, bringing action as well as discomfiture. This session became the most articulate outpouring of the 'felt' sense of homelessness, rather than the 'explained'. With this flow of thought and feeling came distress for some; managing the anxiety and yet allowing the release of anger was an immensely difficult judgement. The safe space that the Booth Centre works so hard to maintain was riven for a moment - and the cold came rushing. Finally, C told us about the operation of the survival instinct. About his own anger and fear. About the chaos that he wakes up to everyday, the not knowing whether he will meet kindness or
a fist. "I wake up and think 'Oh no, another day.' Will I walk into someone who's vindictive, or generous? Everyday is different. But it's the night that's dangerous. We dread that. What gives anyone the right to punch me, spit on me, pee on me because I'm homeless?"
Monday, 28 March 2011 You can be my little bodyguard The familiar smell of hospital envelops us and we're in. The psychiatric ward at Fairfield Hospital in Bury is (depending on your view) a locked door, or a secure haven. We've been brought here by Paul and Sue at Bury's adult learning project. They often work with homeless people and some of these folk pass through the psychiatric ward. We sit with a gentle, quietspoken group downstairs in the ward. The conversation is delicate, taking small steps. We talk about comfort and happiness. The man next to me says: 'I will be happy, won't I?' It sounds like a plea. As we talk the sunshine bounces around the yard outside. A woman describes her love for music, 'Rachmaninov, can't understand why he's always second to that Vaughn Williams in the polls.' An older man talks about walking, whilst staring at the shimmering light outdoors.
We work for an hour, then go upstairs to the next floor of the ward. The air is hotter and soporific. People here are more obviously damaged. S speaks in broken English of his homeland The Czech Republic with a mixture of affection, anger and fear. There he suffered racial abuse, then in England the break up of his family, the loss of his home and job. He has the most torn-up and re-stitched neck I've ever seen, scars the size of a starfish clamp onto his throat. P has tattoos instead of scars and talks of her moodswings, selfhate, abuse. But as she works with us, she rallies and challenges her own selfdefinitions. In her piece she becomes a column of power. The afternoon session is at Red Door Housing Centre with a group of homeless and vulnerably housed people. They're feeling a little shaky because someone they know has just died, violently. We talk about survival, the things that make you tick. B has spent nearly three decades
in prison and is a 'Survivalist. Been on my own since I was 11. I adapt. Life moves fast. Part of being a survivalist is adapting, if you don't adapt you're back in prison.' What's the trick to surviving, I ask. He looks at me from the other shore of a great, sea-deep knowledge. 'Instinct,' he says. It's a word that has come up many times before. Towards the end of the session, K comes into her own, with a string of funny, sharp little stories about her life in hostels and bedsits.
Wednesday, 30 March 2011 Anti-psychotics The morning at the Red Door housing concern centre in Bury. It’s a far cry from squeak-clean offices. On the surface it’s a shambolic place with mismatch furniture, woodchip walls, notices dotted all over, a roughly approximate paintjob. But the centre is sympathetic, caring, fine-tuned to the people within. We’re in a bashed-about living room-come-reception that manages somehow to feel like home. And that’s the point. We’re joined by L and S, who talk us through their lives: long stretches of problems with mental health and the turmoil that comes with it. Later M arrives, he’s shy and quietly spoken, but has a sharp awareness of all the pitfalls around homelessness – and the many ways to fall into them. These three have all been hospitalised for longish periods due to mental health problems. Two of them are in their forties, one a little
younger – all old beyond these years. S described, ‘Police helicopters chasing me at three in the morning, cos I thought I was Jesus.’ M explained how difficult it can be to access help when tipping over the crisis point with mental health. ‘Crime is sometimes the only answer. To get food, or get a little bit well.’ He often deliberately allowed himself to get caught so that he’d be sectioned immediately. S talks about being kicked, cursed and CS gassed by police who were irritated with her misbehaviour when delusional. I mentioned William Blake’s famous visions and L shook his head sadly and said one word: ‘Antipsychotics.’ He knew the diagnosis, the terminology, the prescription, probably even the exact dose that would’ve straightened William out if he was a ‘service user’. At the end of the morning, L said: ‘It’s good to have something like this, the art. We get a chance
to give our views, our take on things. People who are classed as normal don’t get to see our world. This opens their eyes.’ I took an immediate liking to K; before meeting her, one of the volunteers whispers her nickname 'Bubbles' and it fits, she's got the voice of Jane Horrocks, a small stature and eccentrically dressed. She does everything ten to the dozen, and I struggle to keep up with my note taking. My first question, 'What's the happiest part of your day?' leads to her written piece 'Going home to my Chippendale, he's got muscles in all the right places.' Through the session she gradually reveals the vulnerability she felt living in B&Bs and in hostels, usually half hidden by the humour. I was scared in the B&B, but I couldn't show it. J who sits quietly opposite her, smiles as she explains she used to say to him: 'You can be my little bodyguard'. We end the session with K promising she will see us on our next session and will try to bring others with her.
Tuesday, 5 April 2011 From our forgotten correspondent ‌Perhaps the most important thing about this project is that the work is made by people who're living through crisis. As L, a 'service-user' in Bury said: 'People who suffer have knowledge.' The skin is thin and through it they feel the world intensely and report it with great vividness. These reports on the world are from our own forgotten correspondents, people we might pass everyday without registering. But they see, they've no choice. To relax - to close their eyes would be to make themselves even more vulnerable to attack. Stare hard enough and long at something you can observe the deeper structure, the bones. The art and writing made during this project is starting to become whole, a body of work. A living body, a post-mortem body, take your
choice. Evidence perhaps. What is the story that's being told? Many of the pieces are simply about desperation, the heaviness of being alone in a hostile environment. There is mourning: lost innocence, lost families, lost love. There's a yearning too, for shelter and kindness. And there's resilience, often in the form of humour, anger, friendship. Finally, many people told us don't want money, or even help, most of all they want acknowledgement. To be seen. This point was emphasised several times by C at The Booth Centre - the horror of invisibility, of living in a place where, as he expressed it, "Society wears blindfolds." Some of the pieces are beautiful in their manifestation and all come hard won. Homelessness can happen to anybody - after a horrible series of events it could be you or me living on the street you see outside your window.
Thursday, 18 August 2011 News from the 'underclass' "walk past a restaurant // smile @ them thats th mask // I wont let them see me hungry #rainer" (Tweet from Engels) Tweet from Engels is an 'anti-epic' poem made from encounters with homeless people. It's another phase of our project with homeless and vulnerably housed people in Manchester and Bury. The raw material of all of this is the lives of homeless people, which in some cases are as harsh as the working class lives Engels described in 19th century Manchester. "my friend got murdered ystrday backdoor open lights on = stoppd // that was th last time I // spoke 2 her he batterd her again #rai" The poem, which is disseminated through a twitter feed, has now been running for several
weeks. It's been getting some emotive responses; people react to the plight of the 'writers'. Little verse fragments incoming as mobile phone updates or emails arrive with a jolt because the stories they tell are so sad and sore. They are tales of the so-called 'underclass', a term that's started appearing in the papers again, in postriots jargon. "I wake up + think oh no another day will I walk in2 sum1 whos generous //? //or a fist #kit" It takes time to find a shape that's suitable for material as emotional as this, to give it balance. Julia, my partner, suggested we try Englyns to glue the poem together. They're an ancient Welsh poetic form, the closest thing that we have to a home-grown haiku - fantastically complex to write, echoing and re-echoing resonances. But the tightness of them suits the tight restraints of writing a tweet - 140 characters or you're out. And the pun on Engels was too good to resist. Throughout the poem we've scattered quotes
from Engels (as #fred) so that he is in conversation with the homeless people of today. "yr info about conditions in #Manchester is of gr8 interest 2 me// th newspapers having chosen 2 draw a veil #fred" In the end, we've kept it formally very loose, breaking up the interviews and poems we'd gathered into little tweet-size chunks. In the background, the maths of the englyn applied to the poem as a whole rather than each verse and instead of rhymes we have erasures, to underscore the idea of people being societally excluded. The Manchester poet copland smith helped to create this overall shape. Dropped into it there are little 'pure' englyn moments orchestrated by Scott Thurston. "[cant go on th balcony fleein // vision of walls fallin // split second 2 get back in // gettin too old for fightin] #sal"
The final piece is a collaboration between homeless people, who spoke and wrote the work and poets who acted as editors and instigators. High up the credits in this are Rebecca Guest, Steve Giasson, Geof Huth. "wots th magic word? // please? abracadabra? #anon" Some of the piece simply describes everyday routine, some of it is angry, some scared, some visionary. Although the poem is of course made of words, and I've talked about the technicalities of word-making a great deal in this particular blog entry, the chance to hear these people and to help them be heard has affected me beyond words. Working with these folk and helping to shape this many-handed poem has left me hearing and re-hearing them. Lawrence Weiner told me on the one time we met: 'Art is useful. It helps us to live.' These encounters and the work that's come out of them
has helped me to see my own life differently and the greater workings of the society we're all held within. The voices of outsiders always have called to me because they seem to transcend those walls, to come from a bigger world. Perhaps they'll speak to - or for - you?
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this poem makes me thought why poetry? but first of all: could we do a poem based on these statements? is it right, is it ethic to appropriate homeless’ speeches? are they “sacred” in some way as “sacred” once meant “separated”? even if we don’t make cash with this poem are we stealing them? then i thought about charles reznikoff’s “antiepic”: testimony: the united states (1885-1915) then when I read this word: “anti-epic” i feel better i said to myself: if we failed maybe it could be a good way to fail
steve giasson 12. 12. 2011.
Published by Apple Pie Editions, Manchester UK ISBN: 978-0-9568584-8-1 © 2011