Survivors

We don't see in black and white,

we dream in technicoloured cabarets of multicoloured shopping trolleys.

We know how savage hope is,

the incongruity of some chairs

and the magic mothers weave.

Need to leave the 9-5 for those it's for

and dress to the hilt

in beauty, disgust and cosmic dust.

We know that cup's wearing lippy cos it's getting ready for a night on the town with Pat its best mate who's a whiskey drinking saucer.

We know how funny peas are (and that they're Geordies),

that curtains are eyelids,

and that people are people no matter what they're doing.

We know that apostrophes mean

fuck all,

we're easily enthralled and appalled.

Know there's a thousand billion sides to every story,

to every word,

to every intake of breath.

Know the reality and unreality of death.

We know how multi-coloured blue is,

How full bodied grey is,

and the very differing personalities of the letters of the alphabet.

We don't so much question, as know this answer's one of many.

know that words are just building blocks,

simple-minded shapes in primary school colours: toys.

That language is a framework

like holding water together.

See how strong the world tastes in our mouths?

We've always existed.

In our time been burnt as witches,

called empaths, shamans, gurus, stupid flighty bitches

deranged, frivolous, or hilariously - oblivious,

pernickety, irrational, over-sensitive, ridiculous,

perplexing, dyslexic, too intense and always wrong

and made to feel like we never belong,

been exploited, beaten, and electroshocked,

been kept in the attic, been mocked, forgotten,

Had our powers twisted by insistent psychiatrists

Or stolen by tablets, and tablets, and tablets,

Been patronised to shit, dismissed as fools

And had our wings shorn early, by the hell of school,

Bent and twisted out of shape we've flown inward and wilted or soared

and if none of that,

then ignored

see how strong the world tastes in our mouths?

It's no wonder we really do talk to the moon

by Jackie Hagan

Manchester Survivors meets every Monday 2pm-4pm in Commonword,
Bootle Street, Manchester City Centre.

Check out their myspace site at
www.myspace.com/poetry_workshops

You can find Jackie Hagan's poems on facebook or at
www.myspace.com/jackiehagan