Last night I was lucky enough to catch poet Harry Baker do his thing at a private party.
He did a great poem called “Paper People”, which you can see on YouTube with him performing it either in Palestine or at the Bikeshed Theatre Live review, where the sound is a little clearer. But it got me to thinking. What happens when you drop out of the Paper Society?
I thought there would be a good poem in writing a response to his poem. So I wrote it this morning. I’ve called mine “Paper Bag”
Here’s my response
I dropped out of your paper society.
The paper people didn’t want to see
me anymore. I fell down papered cracks
to live in Cardboard City. Out of sight.
Your paper currency is no good here
We only take card. My descent is lent
some extra weight, I contemplate my bent
and battered box, it’s GSM too low.
See, once the papered over cracks are there
you cannot see them. Madness stops me now
from joining in your madness, mental health
has taken out my means of joining in.
I found this in a bin. The one I slept in.
I fashioned it into a house of sorts
Its printed surface sports a wendy house
a child is looking out the window smiling.