I was interviewed by Kathy Caton for Out in Brighton, on 24th March 2016. The interview was great fun, and I also got to showcase three of my poems.
You warned me about your temper
I thought you were making a joke
I remembered your words months later
When my bones and heart you broke
Mostly you were quiet and gentle
You described yourself as kind
Nice, as nice, as nice can be
Until, you changed your mind
Then you became a monster
Cruel and without remorse
It wasn’t your fault, it was your temper
You’d warned me about it, of course
I don’t know why I took you back
When you begged and cried and pleaded
Maybe I felt sorry cos your life was so sad
Maybe, I wanted to be needed?
So then I had to pay the price
Of loving Jekyll and Hyde
It was a painful, brutal, mercifully short
I see you’re online dating,
Advertising for somebody new
You say you’re solvent, single and hot
The problem is, you’re still you.
It was that kiss that did it.
Blew away my misconceptions about lads,
About fancying them that is…
About wanting to be their ‘girlfriend’.
Tracey was trouble with a capital T.
Tall, tempestuous, a truant and a tease.
She cut a swathe through all the boys,
Discarded them like broken toys.
I was twelve, she was sixteen…
And a walking, talking living dream.
I was bored with secondary school,
I preferred dancing and playing the fool.
On that day she noticed me,
Said she’d teach me how to be
A femme fatale like she was.
The first lesson was kissing…
Do you remember the Wilderness Years?
The years between 18 and 25.
The years of hope and longing,
When everything was new.
Do you remember the worry?
Of being excluded, of not fitting in?
Of not being, in some way
A bona – fida member of LQBT Gay.
Do you remember feeling overwhelmed?
Being tossed about in life’s jet stream,
Bewildered by, what the fuck,
Or who, was going on?
Do you remember those lost years?
The sex, the drink, the drugs, the clubs
So many new faces, new places
Some good, some bad, some ugly.
Those who can remember it,
Have passed through it.
Those who can remember it,
Have survived it. Some don’t.
18 to 25 .The highest statistic
Of disenchantment and depression
Of death by suicide or misadventure
Within our community.
It doesn’t have to be that way
Those can be happy care-free years
Celebrating all that is great, good & gay.
Supported by love and wisdom.
Let us light a beacon in our hearts,
To guide those young men and women
The sons & daughters, the next generation,
Who now navigate, The Wilderness years.
I’m your brother and sister,
I’m both Mrs and Mister,
I am Gay, Bi and Transsexual,
I am… myself.
I’m your father and mother,
Husband, auntie, friend and lover,
I’m different…and the same,
I am your family.
I’m black, white, pink… every hue,
Christian, Muslim, Buddhist… Jew,
Skinhead, Goth, Punk, New Romantic,
I am me. I am you.
I’m your district nurse, your teacher,
The boy and girl next door,
Someone in the street,
I am your neighbour.
I’m no better than you, or no worse,
No richer, poorer, blessed or cursed,
Just part of the same Gravitational Wave,
As you are.