you
you
two years ago I was walking down the
street I live on
it’s called eighth Avenue which I’m away
makes me sound like I live in some
bohemian apartment in New York it’s much
less glamorous than that it’s a terraced
Street a newcastle-upon-tyne in the
northeast of England where the most arty
thing you’ll find is a broken window but
something suddenly struck me I remember
singing in there’s about 300 people
living around me and I don’t know any of
them loneliness is a big problem figures
from the all NS have shown more than one
in four houses in the UK now has someone
living alone in them similar stories can
be found all over the world and doctors
have warned that loneliness is more
dangerous to your health than smoking as
well as this it also seems to me that
loneliness is making were more
judgmental as well now more than ever
we’re not meeting people who live their
lives differently to us so we’re
generalizing we’re creating these myths
hate crimes in Europe and America are at
an outrageous high and I don’t think it
would be going too far to suggest that
the rise of hate towards ethnic
minorities is in many ways down to a
lack of social interaction but we all
generalize in some way or another don’t
we it’s the same process that leads
people to say Americans yeah they’re all
like that aren’t they oh the Dutch yeah
they’re all like that aren’t they
the truth is much more complicated
people don’t fit into neat little boxes
and they can very often surprise you by
doing or saying something that you
really weren’t expecting
so I’m a poet right and I know most
people think poetry is basically
pointless but I was wondering what can I
do about this problem how can I take
this small insignificant skill that I
have and with just a couple of words on
a page do something that helps to
highlight the loneliness in work culture
and questions some of the stereotypes in
it as well this was my idea
I decided to become the world’s first
door-to-door poet this is how it works I
pick a street I start at 12 and I finish
at 6 in that time I need to find five
people to write a poem for I’m knock on
the door and count to 45 in my head if
no one answers then I move on and to be
honest with you right a lot of the time
no one does but every now and again
someone answers and when they do I tell
them I’m doing an art project I don’t
use the word poetry because that would
be madness asking if they’ve got a
minute in ten seconds to spare and if
they say yes I do a poem for them and
that poem goes like this I’m a
door-to-door poet and maje could be much
neater but this could be worse though I
could be some kind of preacher in school
the tour is poor trees bust ruled by
Tufts who’ve turned a dust on country
manners deathly shrouds serious Lords
and fluffy clouds and I found it quite
hard to relate I grew up on a roof
estate walls thin as paper used to trace
the clouds and endless tone of gray I’m
yet to make poetry exciting like bungee
jumping but less frightening so I make
it all to find the subjects that flow
through your mind tell us about your
life okay maybe not the whole of it I’ll
stick it in a poem for you or have a
recent go edit maybe you heard a great
story you’d love to hear in rhyme maybe
your blood is boiling from a recent
council fine maybe you dropped your
iPhone eight and it fell down the toilet
I don’t know I can’t decide for you cuz
that would spoil it so cheers for
listening to these verses I hope I got
across my purpose don’t slam the door
don’t be nervous
the daunted or poet is at your service
[Applause]
after this I have a conversation with
the person about what’s important to
them this can be absolutely anything
then I go away and write a poem about it
free of charge two weeks later I go back
to the area I visited and deliver all
five poems now perform each one on the
doorstep for every person and give them
a written copy with the website in the
top right-hand corner a blog about
everything that’s happened to us and I
hope that by going out meeting these
strangers and recording their stories I
can show the rest of the world how
interesting and unique were neighbors
can be but when I first talked about
doing this a lot of people were worried
for my safety a northeast of England is
an economically deprived area and it
isn’t exactly famous for its love of the
Arts one of the first places are visited
as a thought a tall poet was in a state
near my house called the biker wall the
biker wall is a barrack like stretch of
620 flats with a reputation for crime
and violence I told a lot of my friends
I was planning on going there and they
all made exactly the same sound it was a
sort of Marge Simpson esque expression
of unease as well as this I spoke to a
local police officer called Amy who
strong
advised us not to go if you do she says
carry some pepper spray and don’t take
any valuables so as you can imagine by
the time I got there I was terrified I
was shaken and it was raining and I
really just wanted to go home and forget
about the whole thing but I didn’t know
what the people of the biker wall would
be like for sure and I wanted to find
out despite what everyone had told us I
needed to trust them and this was gonna
have to work both ways – they were gonna
have to trust that I wasn’t gonna rob
them and I was gonna have to trust that
they weren’t gonna drag us inside the
house and cuz apart slowly with a junior
hacksaw I think the part of the estate
near the main road so it would be easier
to run I tried a few doors and got no
reply and the next one a man came out
with bright blue eyes in a peaked
baseball cap and nervously performed my
poem for him while he stayed that is
completely expressionist once that
finished I said so what’s your name and
he said Carl and I said and tell us Carl
what’s important to you and he looked
this up and down and after a very long
pause Carl said will you write as one
about how much I love my girlfriend and
this situation had gone from hardcore to
sentimental in about three seconds I had
a fantastic time in the biker wall
everyone was really friendly and
enthusiastic I definitely didn’t need
any pepper spray I found seven people to
write a poem for and we talked about
everything from judo to the problems
with organized religion to the joys of
pastry the whole experience really
challenged my pre convictions don’t get
us wrong I’m not trying to say awful
things don’t
and I’m not trying to deny that there’s
some very dangerous people out there
well I couldn’t help but wonder what
gave these residents such a bad
reputation
it seemed that this myth had grown about
the wall this fear that everyone in
biker was like this but once I got out
and started meeting people it didn’t
really seem that way after my visit to
biker I got a grant from Arts Council
England to go around the Northeast as a
door-to-door poet to this day I still
can’t really believe I managed to turn
this into a job that I actually get paid
for I decided I was gonna go to fennel
venom is another suburb of Newcastle and
it has quite a large Asian community
when I told people what I was planning
the responses were again mostly
cautionary the residents wouldn’t speak
any English they’d be distrustful others
all of the husbands would be at work and
their wives are told not to answer the
door but despite these warnings are
still found five people to write a poem
for and they all had very varied
lifestyles as well on the one hand I met
Sammy a devout Muslim who asked for a
poem about the mosque across the road
from him on the other I met Salman an 18
year old lad with a passion for
skateboardin and hip hop I’d like to add
here that it was actually Salman’s mom
who answered the door as well she
initially said she wasn’t interested but
then remembering that our son did are at
college she came down the street to
invite us inside to meet him a lot of my
visit didn’t really fit with what people
said would happen it seemed again there
was this myth about people infinim being
adored or poet for the past two years
has been one of the most exciting life
change in things I’ve ever done but it
isn’t always positive
having gone around a lot of poor areas
you see things that are often hard to
come to terms with one of these places
was stockton-on-tees a town with a high
level of unemployment I ended up on Hart
Hartington Road top again I ended up on
Hartington Road Hartington Road was
described to his on three separate
occasions as the roughest street in
Stockton if you ever go to Stockton
you’ll understand how terrifying a
phrase like that concern although the
people I met were again overwhelmingly
friendly it was hard to handle some of
the things they talked about the last
person I spoke to was a taxi driver
called much he invited his inside for a
cup of tea and when I asked him what was
important to him he talked about the
sheltered accommodation a few doors down
houses offered to the homeless and those
recovering from drug and alcohol
problems on a daily basis Marge sees
people who’ve been forgotten by society
people who don’t have jobs who can’t
seem to get themselves out of the
terrible situation there it and he spoke
passionately about how quick we are to
judge about how we never really look
beneath the surface to see what’s going
on in these people’s lives if I’ve
learned anything as a door or door poet
it’s that people can surprise you you
can’t tell what someone’s gonna be like
from their accent they close the color
of the skin or the place that they live
what I’ve done might not work for
everyone but what I do know is we need
to be less lonely and less judgmental I
wrote this poem for Mudge it’s called
the tune of Alan Palmer and it’s a true
story
his feet leave watermarks around the
station his shivering body dressed in
soggy rags as head bowed low the hollow
cheeks unshaven and round his neck a
weathered sleeping bag the people all
around him look straight through the
suits and wheelie cases circle past a
crowd of rowdy lasses on a hen do pink
miniskirts and feathered cowboy hats he
spots an old piano by the door there for
anyone to play who’s passing by he sits
down in the oak and velvet chair and
lifts the lid like he’s about to try a
copper comes and stops him shoulder
tapping he tells the man it’s best that
he got moving but now the hens have
spotted him they clapping the copper
smiles this could be quite amusing
let’s watch the tram play something crap
on here the gathered hens or start to
point and laugh he reckons he’s all
portion that they sneer and get the
forms out for a photograph the giggles
choked the ugly smiles are frozen as his
filthy fingers touch the keys and gently
fill the room with sweet Beethoven the
gloomy knowin sound of Fur Elise he
plays it perfect every note is haunting
the space becomes the London Coliseum
and down one girl’s cheek now a tear is
pouring it breaks each heart to look and
really see him for half an hour
they listen to him shinin and get a
sense of something hard to bay that
homelessness does not mean they aren’t
trying of futures shuttered by a lack of
K that every person is born with golden
talents but tragic circumstance can
crush the spirit that every life is
hanging in the balance and we could lose
it all
any minute thank you
[Applause]
you
two years ago I was walking down the
street I live on
it’s called eighth Avenue which I’m away
makes me sound like I live in some
bohemian apartment in New York it’s much
less glamorous than that it’s a terraced
Street a newcastle-upon-tyne in the
northeast of England where the most arty
thing you’ll find is a broken window but
something suddenly struck me I remember
singing in there’s about 300 people
living around me and I don’t know any of
them loneliness is a big problem figures
from the all NS have shown more than one
in four houses in the UK now has someone
living alone in them similar stories can
be found all over the world and doctors
have warned that loneliness is more
dangerous to your health than smoking as
well as this it also seems to me that
loneliness is making were more
judgmental as well now more than ever
we’re not meeting people who live their
lives differently to us so we’re
generalizing we’re creating these myths
hate crimes in Europe and America are at
an outrageous high and I don’t think it
would be going too far to suggest that
the rise of hate towards ethnic
minorities is in many ways down to a
lack of social interaction but we all
generalize in some way or another don’t
we it’s the same process that leads
people to say Americans yeah they’re all
like that aren’t they oh the Dutch yeah
they’re all like that aren’t they
the truth is much more complicated
people don’t fit into neat little boxes
and they can very often surprise you by
doing or saying something that you
really weren’t expecting
so I’m a poet right and I know most
people think poetry is basically
pointless but I was wondering what can I
do about this problem how can I take
this small insignificant skill that I
have and with just a couple of words on
a page do something that helps to
highlight the loneliness in work culture
and questions some of the stereotypes in
it as well this was my idea
I decided to become the world’s first
door-to-door poet this is how it works I
pick a street I start at 12 and I finish
at 6 in that time I need to find five
people to write a poem for I’m knock on
the door and count to 45 in my head if
no one answers then I move on and to be
honest with you right a lot of the time
no one does but every now and again
someone answers and when they do I tell
them I’m doing an art project I don’t
use the word poetry because that would
be madness asking if they’ve got a
minute in ten seconds to spare and if
they say yes I do a poem for them and
that poem goes like this I’m a
door-to-door poet and maje could be much
neater but this could be worse though I
could be some kind of preacher in school
the tour is poor trees bust ruled by
Tufts who’ve turned a dust on country
manners deathly shrouds serious Lords
and fluffy clouds and I found it quite
hard to relate I grew up on a roof
estate walls thin as paper used to trace
the clouds and endless tone of gray I’m
yet to make poetry exciting like bungee
jumping but less frightening so I make
it all to find the subjects that flow
through your mind tell us about your
life okay maybe not the whole of it I’ll
stick it in a poem for you or have a
recent go edit maybe you heard a great
story you’d love to hear in rhyme maybe
your blood is boiling from a recent
council fine maybe you dropped your
iPhone eight and it fell down the toilet
I don’t know I can’t decide for you cuz
that would spoil it so cheers for
listening to these verses I hope I got
across my purpose don’t slam the door
don’t be nervous
the daunted or poet is at your service
[Applause]
after this I have a conversation with
the person about what’s important to
them this can be absolutely anything
then I go away and write a poem about it
free of charge two weeks later I go back
to the area I visited and deliver all
five poems now perform each one on the
doorstep for every person and give them
a written copy with the website in the
top right-hand corner a blog about
everything that’s happened to us and I
hope that by going out meeting these
strangers and recording their stories I
can show the rest of the world how
interesting and unique were neighbors
can be but when I first talked about
doing this a lot of people were worried
for my safety a northeast of England is
an economically deprived area and it
isn’t exactly famous for its love of the
Arts one of the first places are visited
as a thought a tall poet was in a state
near my house called the biker wall the
biker wall is a barrack like stretch of
620 flats with a reputation for crime
and violence I told a lot of my friends
I was planning on going there and they
all made exactly the same sound it was a
sort of Marge Simpson esque expression
of unease as well as this I spoke to a
local police officer called Amy who
strong
advised us not to go if you do she says
carry some pepper spray and don’t take
any valuables so as you can imagine by
the time I got there I was terrified I
was shaken and it was raining and I
really just wanted to go home and forget
about the whole thing but I didn’t know
what the people of the biker wall would
be like for sure and I wanted to find
out despite what everyone had told us I
needed to trust them and this was gonna
have to work both ways – they were gonna
have to trust that I wasn’t gonna rob
them and I was gonna have to trust that
they weren’t gonna drag us inside the
house and cuz apart slowly with a junior
hacksaw I think the part of the estate
near the main road so it would be easier
to run I tried a few doors and got no
reply and the next one a man came out
with bright blue eyes in a peaked
baseball cap and nervously performed my
poem for him while he stayed that is
completely expressionist once that
finished I said so what’s your name and
he said Carl and I said and tell us Carl
what’s important to you and he looked
this up and down and after a very long
pause Carl said will you write as one
about how much I love my girlfriend and
this situation had gone from hardcore to
sentimental in about three seconds I had
a fantastic time in the biker wall
everyone was really friendly and
enthusiastic I definitely didn’t need
any pepper spray I found seven people to
write a poem for and we talked about
everything from judo to the problems
with organized religion to the joys of
pastry the whole experience really
challenged my pre convictions don’t get
us wrong I’m not trying to say awful
things don’t
and I’m not trying to deny that there’s
some very dangerous people out there
well I couldn’t help but wonder what
gave these residents such a bad
reputation
it seemed that this myth had grown about
the wall this fear that everyone in
biker was like this but once I got out
and started meeting people it didn’t
really seem that way after my visit to
biker I got a grant from Arts Council
England to go around the Northeast as a
door-to-door poet to this day I still
can’t really believe I managed to turn
this into a job that I actually get paid
for I decided I was gonna go to fennel
venom is another suburb of Newcastle and
it has quite a large Asian community
when I told people what I was planning
the responses were again mostly
cautionary the residents wouldn’t speak
any English they’d be distrustful others
all of the husbands would be at work and
their wives are told not to answer the
door but despite these warnings are
still found five people to write a poem
for and they all had very varied
lifestyles as well on the one hand I met
Sammy a devout Muslim who asked for a
poem about the mosque across the road
from him on the other I met Salman an 18
year old lad with a passion for
skateboardin and hip hop I’d like to add
here that it was actually Salman’s mom
who answered the door as well she
initially said she wasn’t interested but
then remembering that our son did are at
college she came down the street to
invite us inside to meet him a lot of my
visit didn’t really fit with what people
said would happen it seemed again there
was this myth about people infinim being
adored or poet for the past two years
has been one of the most exciting life
change in things I’ve ever done but it
isn’t always positive
having gone around a lot of poor areas
you see things that are often hard to
come to terms with one of these places
was stockton-on-tees a town with a high
level of unemployment I ended up on Hart
Hartington Road top again I ended up on
Hartington Road Hartington Road was
described to his on three separate
occasions as the roughest street in
Stockton if you ever go to Stockton
you’ll understand how terrifying a
phrase like that concern although the
people I met were again overwhelmingly
friendly it was hard to handle some of
the things they talked about the last
person I spoke to was a taxi driver
called much he invited his inside for a
cup of tea and when I asked him what was
important to him he talked about the
sheltered accommodation a few doors down
houses offered to the homeless and those
recovering from drug and alcohol
problems on a daily basis Marge sees
people who’ve been forgotten by society
people who don’t have jobs who can’t
seem to get themselves out of the
terrible situation there it and he spoke
passionately about how quick we are to
judge about how we never really look
beneath the surface to see what’s going
on in these people’s lives if I’ve
learned anything as a door or door poet
it’s that people can surprise you you
can’t tell what someone’s gonna be like
from their accent they close the color
of the skin or the place that they live
what I’ve done might not work for
everyone but what I do know is we need
to be less lonely and less judgmental I
wrote this poem for Mudge it’s called
the tune of Alan Palmer and it’s a true
story
his feet leave watermarks around the
station his shivering body dressed in
soggy rags as head bowed low the hollow
cheeks unshaven and round his neck a
weathered sleeping bag the people all
around him look straight through the
suits and wheelie cases circle past a
crowd of rowdy lasses on a hen do pink
miniskirts and feathered cowboy hats he
spots an old piano by the door there for
anyone to play who’s passing by he sits
down in the oak and velvet chair and
lifts the lid like he’s about to try a
copper comes and stops him shoulder
tapping he tells the man it’s best that
he got moving but now the hens have
spotted him they clapping the copper
smiles this could be quite amusing
let’s watch the tram play something crap
on here the gathered hens or start to
point and laugh he reckons he’s all
portion that they sneer and get the
forms out for a photograph the giggles
choked the ugly smiles are frozen as his
filthy fingers touch the keys and gently
fill the room with sweet Beethoven the
gloomy knowin sound of Fur Elise he
plays it perfect every note is haunting
the space becomes the London Coliseum
and down one girl’s cheek now a tear is
pouring it breaks each heart to look and
really see him for half an hour
they listen to him shinin and get a
sense of something hard to bay that
homelessness does not mean they aren’t
trying of futures shuttered by a lack of
K that every person is born with golden
talents but tragic circumstance can
crush the spirit that every life is
hanging in the balance and we could lose
it all
any minute thank you
[Applause]
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