Friday, 14 July 2017


This poem arose from the notion that a person from the past that we conjure into existence inside our heads could have conscious thought. That they could narrate the scene/memory from a different perspective to the individual thinking them.

inside the head of the man who sold us all down the river

Here I am, however briefly, in his thoughts,
ordered by a steward to stand on this spot,
given appropriate clothing
[nothing I would have chosen for myself],
and told exactly what to say,
some badly written supporting dialogue,
[not the words I spoke at the time,
or even a rough approximation].

I have been thought into existence before,
not very often, usually when he needs
to illustrate his marvellous achievements,
and the nobility of his actions to some new acquaintance.

I step forward to speak my lines,
words of gratitude,
how I could only ever have respect for the man.
I stand in his consciousness,
one of many phantoms,
who bow and scrape and thank him
[the opposite of what happened in real life].

As I said this sort of event doesn't happen often,
usually the likes of me never enter his head,
not even for a second.
I was reading at 2000 Trees Festival last weekend and had an excellent time.
It is my third year there and it keeps getting better. Thanks to Rob for the invite.
Here's a video from Will Varley who was a highlight for me.
Until next time.

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