The Road is Paved with Good Intentions. / 8 September 2014
Yesterday I wrote this poem on a path.
'Do not step here, my dreams have fallen out of my pocket and are hard to find again.
Don't grind them into the ground or I will have to wait for the rain
to feed the daisies to push them back up again.'
I didn’t have to aim it at a particular audience except humanity in a part of Brixton, South London.
Didn’t know if they liked poetry or art beforehand. But it made everyone who came across it stop.
They read it, asked questions, and gave me knowing nods, but the best thing was that they stepped gently around the poem, from the child to the drunk to the woman going home with her shopping.
Nobody complained of vandalism. Vandalism belongs to the world that steps onto dreams.