"King"

Summer 06; I saw a man with a fat white head, and big blue eyes, and short black stubble for hair, clearly in those 'windows', during a moment I lay on the bottom bunk in the fairy princess room in the dark, by the lamp, talking to the Michal shadow, in the middle of the floor...

"Where is my wife!! Where is my wife!!?"

"He's running through the halls looking for you, your husband...He is going to kill Saul..."

I wonder in the mental hospital, if there had been poetry in those meetings so I began to write a play...I wanted to know what was underneath those souls...

I had a dream I was with a dark haired woman, in a car-park, we were supposed to be in Heaven, but we were loading huge old gravestones into the back of a battered little car, a peugot...(which I've before, so want, want want....)

Christmas o6, I was spending it in the hospital ward...I was writing 'Drum N Bass' songs about Jesus, on paper, and bad bad writing poetry set to chords, and I tried calling people around my area with news that I had lyrics for their house/garage groups...it wasn't dangerous but it got nowhere...

Anyway she appeared in a window, in a little room, she was there because she was dead, had been dead for a long long time... she had set up the wallpaper in light blue, with black spiders pattern, her eyes turned bright blue and she spun them round and goggled, she sent me a picture of ;

Amy; Amy's face as a man's, black hair, with green eyes, a very handsome man...

I met Amy Winehouse at Trafalgar Square, i London, on a sunny spring day in 2006, when I was 'sky-flying dating PJ...'

Polly, sang, in cars, so much in the locals that she was nicknamed "Corny" due to the wessex accent...

I wanted to meet her for real. She named a town in dorset, I sat with my Baptist friend and my dad searching for train times etc. I took my benefits/welfare money out, and the baptist took me into a shop, on the way to the train, she started singing;

In ehr big, genius voice, to a Micheal Jackson song playing in the shop, I was pissed off at that, the Baptist could hear her and smiled, he stayed quiet...I didnt even know he was baptist til I met him a tthe church a few months ago,a dn we've known each otehr ten years.

So, I wrote down the Dorset town, and she gave me a house number and street...I went to Waterloo.

She sang over the tannoy. Someone cried "Hallelujah!" I got on the train, and opened a murder book from mum, I realised I was talkign in the man as I waited on teh train by the platform, something oinside me singing, then I got pissed and broke him off;

"I'm on drugs...."

...Through the journey to the countryside she remained silent. I was getting upset, quietly.

I got to the town, and wanted to ask in tesco if they knew where Pj's house was. I walked through the high-street, on and on pulling a suitcase, occasionalyy she spoke to me from the noise of the turning wheels. 

I got to where the town ended and a country-lane began. I thought of a huge farm somewhere up that road. I was upset.

I walked back into town, it was getting late, all shops were closed, I walked on: I had to find somewhere to sleep for the night. No Polly.

Then I found the street she had mentioned, I sat on the corner, deliberating, perhaps this was some secret hide-out?

Two boys arrived at the bench, they or I starting talking about cannabis and where we could get some....

I stood up, and wandered up the street. The problem was:

It looked like a street where only pensioners could live, little bungalows, all the same, something about it was also terrifying. I had to find number 86, the road looked as though it went to 200. I realsied she was lying but kept walking.

I needed the toilet.

I knocked on a door. This couple could have been insane murderers, they were old and spooky, and the house was so clean. Of course they looked worried but said nothing. I didn't noticed. I pee-d. I cleaned, I said thank you and left...

I turned back past that bench, and took a left and walked on, I was walking and walking, I found a BandB. A man like a freak from the seventies opened the door, wearing a pink shirt, and bad glasses:

"No Gays!" I wasnt even a skinhead then, I had very long girls hair, and girls clothes, I sighed at him and turned away...

I gave up even then or the next day, and sat on someone's garden wall, crying for about half-an=hour. The cars passing me so fast where mocking me...a girl a few years younger than me appeared in the garden behind me.

I decided I wanted her instead. Said I was okay and walked....

I found a nice BandB directly on the edge of the countryside and knocked, a homely fat woman opened the door, I must have look liked a problematic run-away. I assurred her I was fine and paid for a night.

I had nowhere to go but bed, so I walked into the room, everything was chintz and lace, even the bed, it was set high and square. I contemplated smoking in the room. No.

I got into bed, I could hear a small plane overhead, coming nearer and nearer, I could even hear a woman inside and hoped that was Polly. Then the hell followed me from my home town, men driving in the cars and roaring over and over again...I was going to die, because they had followed me here.

The couple in front of my bed, I could hear through the walls, their accent the same as mine, they seemed worried about me, they had a conversation with me through the walls,

It got dark, and the night became Hell.

The fat woman, was worrying about me downstairs I could hear her very well, the magic was making all our voices carry to each other.

I forgave Polly, but then she appeared clearly in front of me, and jabbed both of her fingers into my eyes, they flashed white. I 'magiked' them back, I decided hating her would be to fall asleep...

I had a good breakfast, took 500 pounds out of the post-office and went all the way back to meet the Baptist in London.

We were sitting happily against the wall beneath the National Gallery, listenign to PJ sing in the double decker buses flowing round and round, watchign to see who could hear her as well. Then:

"Wow! Look at that Italian couple!!" Beautiful Italians.

"That man with her is a poof!"

The young man was in a polo cut t-shirt and plainly handsome and clean. The woman was dark and beautiful, she was wearing a pale blue summer dress and heels. They walked in a direct line past me, I was talking about them very loudly, the buses were still singing :

I shouted, she was lapis lazuli/ amazing Italian, gorgeous, Italian......:

She turned and said: "Congratulations."

"She noticed, that beautiful woman noticed even me!! cos I was in a green wool hoodie! Lapis Lazuli dress!"