Guardian Article

http://www.theguardian.com/stage/2016/may/20/gold-for-the-soul-my-play-about-dementia-choirs-with-music-by-the-manics

80th anniversary of Spanish Civil War

Honoured to be asked to perform at the launch of IB Cymru in Cardiff on april 10th 2016.It is a timely reminder of the sacrifice people made for those suffering in other countries. In an age where borders dominate our news we should take heed from the inspiring response of people  who went to to the aid of those living under oppression and fear of death. I shall be reading new poems and looking forward to hearing Hywel Francis speak and meeting like minded souls. Barocco Bar Cardiff at 4pm. 

before i leave journal

after 2 and a half years of research and writing the first performance of my play 'before i leave' is edging closer- it has been a while since  i've got new work out- i forgot what it is like to have people on your side- collaborators theatre creatives designers producers and friends- i feel real again- it is a strange thing to create a play in isolation- typing away staring at that flickering screen dreading  switching it on in case the ideas refuse to flow- i would call it pain filled- but yet somehow beautiful- to tap away at the keys making choices that can affect the whole structure- nearly 30 years ago i came across a quote that would change my life- arthur miller said he wrote his plays to make 'people feel less alone'-  outwardly simple yet probably the most profound statement on art i have ever read- because yes isn't that why we gravitate towards a certain band a painter that obscure poet or that long forgotten novelist? to. feel . less . alone - to try to connect with something tangible in a world that strips away feeling? i know i did and still do. i know that in 1988 i threw myself into tennessee williams allen ginsberg  jack kerouac albert camus sylvia plath and arthur miller - i gorged on their words their ideas their dreams- i had always thought writing was for the rich the ultra educated those having a career break- i did not know if it was legitimate for me to write let alone be heard- their words unleashed my own and for that i am eternally grateful- formal education was a waste of time- no sparks just blankets smothering creativity- my peers bored me - rugby fighting and piss ups- never really floated my boat and it was a lonely battle to raise myself up from their musclebound grip and walk the cleaner air of poetry and nature- so why am i regressing this isn't a history lesson?- it is sometimes helpful to retrace those furious steps of youth to find out why you picked up that pen WHY you would take a notebook up a mountain why you would listen to conversations on the last bus from cardiff to the valleys- i certainly didn't want to make money i definitely didn't know how to be famous- i just knew that words were my way out and my way in that i could truly be myself on that blank notebook page i knew there were stories to tell i knew my place my postcode my accent my world was not being represented in the media and i knew what it was like to 'be alone'- so here i am having  written a play  inspired by cwm taf choir  in merthyr tydfil a town full of protest of struggle and of song- i also knew that the members of this choir were fading that their stories needed to be told- i knew, that it was time to make 'people feel less alone'- - the journey continues.............

here is my new site – great work by paul thomas to create it. so many things to write about and express and will be using this to discuss issues and try out new work.

exciting times ahead with a new play with national theatre wales, a book of poetry published by the red poets press and a brand new spoken word cd as black triangle which is my new sonic project with julian gardner.

as ever i am out working in the community involved in some fantastic life affirming projects with such organisations as The Alzheimer's Society, Literature Wales, Age Cymru and Head4Arts.

We need words more than ever before. here live mine –

THE HEALING HOUSE

"the public interest is taken care of by the private interest of wanting to make money"

John Redwood 1994

 

"we have been the dreamers, we have been the sufferers, now we are the builders"

Aneurin Bevan, 1945

 

bring your children to the nursery

with their disease and sickness,

this is the place where I hope to cure all illness

at the point of need, this is an emergency

 

come now, our tomorrow

rest yourself

as i halt fear and heal bone marrow,

and, from an early death

i promise emancipation,

with my doctors, nurses

and vaccinations

 

let in the mothers

the pool is ready for another,

carer of the next generation,

sleep, prepare for this new birth,

I offer you protection,

as you grow the roots of our new earth

 

welcome, people from other nations,

with troubled faces from distant places,

i have room for you, my new patients,

i have no borders to caring,

pain has no dialect, this language is for sharing

let love be found in translation

 

sit, eat from my pantry,

become healthy

as you, you are my ultimate test,

bring me your tortured tongues

so you may speak again

from far off battlefields show your scarred flesh

so i can stem the blood and heal your pain.

 

to you, the wiser, the elderly, the old,

do not be afraid, do not huddle in the cold,

my door is open,

come in, come in,

it is warm, trust us,

and i shall lance the boils of poverty's injustice,

and drain the infection,

as in my house these rooms

offer cure by prevention,

 

and so to the sick, to the dying, those crippled with

disease

stay, in my garden,

breath,

lay, beneath the trees

i shall provide peace and serenity

to strengthen the health of vulnerablity

no matter what age, sex, class, race or country,

 

my windows pour penicillin

my library, the words of the masters,

Simpson, Pasteur and Fleming

not market forces or ignorant capitalists

 

so be careful how you treat your house, our home

never neglect or leave alone

keep clean,  add extensions

but never damage the bricks or remove my foundations

 

from the wasteland of squalor, disease and

dereliction,

I am the safe place

the healing home

injecting cells with reconstruction,

the everlasting bandage

to deliver all from illnessed bondage

I am the suture

to stitch the wounds of the past

but i am the scalpel

to carve the future

to make this dream last

to make this dream last.

 

"the verb is more important than the noun"

Aneurin Bevan