I come from cuckooland

Lois writes: I have to admit with some embarrassment that a map of you, has challenged my own pre-conceptions of homelessness, and taken me out of my comfort zone. To my surprise my initial concerns have been replaced with an enthusiasm and pleasure for the work. For me, the poem that follows reveals some of the voices we're hearing in our encounters with homeless people; thoughtful, intelligent, humorous, generous and at times brutally honest.

cuckooland

I come from cuckooland

I’m on my way to cuckooland

to comfort

my pillow

comfortable lying

at the side of my soul mate relaxed relaxing

finding your space, routine

a bit of breakfast, a comforting sleep

I do 4 hours a night

what makes comfort comfortable?

a teddy bear, a singer’s voice

a particular

one particular voice

music is hard but there’s one voice

you grow up hearing

the music of the soul

is anything good to the ear

listen to the birds’ opera

I come from cuckooland

well on my way to cuckooland

I’m in cuckooland

listen to the birds

music is wordless

that’s why it’s so good

springing joyful

some is made for a purpose and some is just made

like a rainbow

Barry White bless his soul in the sun’s warmth

comfort can be a cry

for sadness or grief

or joy

a strong sign of weakness

I was in detox

(you can’t say that word: it makes me thirsty)

you cuddle your baby

you cuddle your body

communion at church

the comfort of chocolate

homeless people: I comfort my friends on the street

let them stay once and awhile

something warm, something to eat

close your eyes and things come

alive

the music is

springy and joyful

I feel happiness.

I come from cuckooland

I’m on my way to cuckooland

cuddle your pillow

to go.

Anonymous Group poem, 

Booth Centre, 8^th March