On Sunday morning I was sitting breathless and in tears in my kitchen. In my kitchen I curled up myself on an uncomfortable chair like a kitten. Like a kitten I hugged a warm radiator next to the chair and, as I started to ignore it, I burned myself. I burned myself in the poems recited by Jo Twist - "a queer, mentalist, ex-self-harming, ex-bulimic, ex-druggie, suicide-attempt-surviving, anarchist, punk, atheist, green, green-haired, make-up-wearing, cross-dressing, alcoholic, vegan artist living on benefits and having a laugh" as he is introduced in an anthology "Poems To Read [Before U Die]". I burned myself in the words said by Jo - my dearest Jo, who has chosen me to be his secret-ally.
On Sunday morning, in my kitchen, sharing the same shade of African green on our hair and surrounded by the smell of a vegan meal which I had prepared for lunch we did his rehearsal for his performance. My wooden spoon, which my Dad gave me after one of his trips to Zakopane (the place in my country where Jo has never been and, I believe, he has never heard about) was his mic that morning. We went through his poems and short speeches between them, the beginning and the end of his planned performance. As a PR specialist I would have liked to be on help... but he closed my mouth by his words dripping from his lips; he wetted my eyes with his blood, his scabs, his flesh; he let me believe that I was 41...
I am 41
In hospital
On the Brandon Unit.
Staring out the window
At an unseeing skyline,
With Jezza in the background, cursing bad parents,
With a book in my lap
I can’t understand.
I am 41
In hospital
On the Brandon Unit.
Locked away with 30 other mentalists.
Threatened with being sectioned
If I try and leave.
With an EDL member in my face.
I am 41
In hospital
On the Brandon Unit.
With 15 stitches
Itching in my left wrist.
With a piece of metal
Implanted in my left wrist.
I am 41
In hospital
On the Brandon Unit.
With prescription drugs leaving my body.
With no sleep for 6 days and nights.
With visions of skulls and swastikas in my head.
I am 41
In hospital
On The Brandon Unit.
With one can of cheap, weak lager
For a Christmas present.
I am 41
In hospital
On the Brandon Unit.
I am being born.
[Jo Twist, Poems To Read Before U Die, 2012 Showcase Smoothie]
On Tuesday evening, on Ping...K!, as the featured performing poet's secret-ally I tried to be more professional but I was shaking as Jo's performance was very intense and touching. Despite the fact that the lights were on and he used the proper mic I saw him in my kitchen... and I was proud... proud to be chosen to be an one person audience...
Thank you Jo, NOW, and HERE, and AGAIN now...
