Trucking and trunking
tracking, ducking and docking
as crssoing the hill into the valley
They are making their tea in the evening
oiling the chain that locks the door
combing curly hair till its fine
where the hare runs and turns at his will
The clock goes an such a slow pace
yet the time is allways on time
straw and thatch hats
gaiters and gates
left unlocked in the dance hall
Latin and ballroom
taping and jiving
horn pipe and jig
They don’t give a dime
PAX FAX
John Sheehy 07
Hello world from Ten Feet Away Art group. Last Tuesday we recorded The manifesto - voicing our own definitions of art. We will produce more audio in the future, in the mean time, please click here to listen to our manifesto…
Visual Arts group - Ten Feet Away
Well, I think this is it, please click here to listen how the story finished, as I mentioned at some point I didn’t have time to prepare myself, one day I was in, the next it was over. Did it change my life? Yes, I think so. It wasn’t as scary as I imagined but it was tough. I am happy to be out, I am happy to say good morning everyday to Marilo and Kalo, I appreciate my freedom as never and most important of all, I am a happier person.
This story has been written in 7 different episodes you can find through this site.
My next blog? It will be about circus and the performance we are creating for the Ten Feet Away Festival.
Ciao!!
I enjoy writing although I never do it… but in prison? In prison that’s the best thing to do, at least it was for me. I was writing about homelessness and also a love story. I didn’t finished any of them but what I did finished was this poem and that audio file at the end of this blog and a drawing of Kalo, my son, and a drawing of that sexy girl hanging on the wall with a celtic cross. I hope you enjoy them all.
MITOURI
I am bleeding, I can feel how the blood travels from the inside to the outside taking away both our lives.
Am I going to die? Or I am already dead. Oh poor son of mine, you didn’t have the chance to fight!
Oh glorious authorities with endless power. Their frontiers are there to protect them from me; I am the menace, am I?
My dreams – the same as yours. My skin, is it not the same as yours? But not my rights, as I have none; they don’t exist, not in here.
He is bleeding, powerless, ignoring what he will never know. Oh holy authorities, oh powerful frontiers!
I didn’t have the right to cross the line, but did they when they came to my land? Did they? I ask you again, did they!?
I was desperate for one chance to make my dream come true. It didn’t happen, I wasn’t entitled and neither was he; that’s what they said.
He has gone, but still lifeless inside my womb; and so am I, my eyes will stop sweating. Au revoir, beloved authorities, farewell wretched frontiers.
Mitouri Dembele
Mitouri was found dead on the 2nd July 2005, she was homeless and she was pregnant. After looking at her records I found out that she asked for help but due to her legal status in the UK she wasn’t eligible. Mitouri had prostitution records, she was currently sleeping rough, she was from an African country, she came to the U.K. 5 years ago. No one reclaimed her body, they died alone.
Please click here to listed to the next episode at Pentonville Prison. My cellmates (audio file)
The Folk visit their new studio space in South london…..click here to listen
