By Billy Childish.<\/p>\n
the strangest thing<\/strong> she wants to know -ive been in margate no a terrible thing<\/strong> I looked out of the garden window i was to bissy being (understanding?) i failed myself i am the strange hero of hunger<\/strong> do you recognise the main characicter? -ive only just begun -rodya i am naturally I have no heros i stand shoulder to shoulder with
\ntoday dolli isn’t hard and arrogant
\nshe isn’t puffed up and bitter
\ni can hear tiredness and a tremour
\nin her voice<\/p>\n
\nif she can
\ncome and visit me
\nthings aren’t working out between her and her
\nnew boyfriend<\/p>\n
\nvisiting my mum
\nit reminds me of when we were together
\nyou were the first great love
\nof my life
\nnow theres M
\nyoure the same in lots of ways
\nhes fucking these stupid little art sluts
\ntheyre fucking nobodys!
\ni tell him
\ntheyre fucking
\nnothing compared to me!
\nbut he still does it
\ni need to talk to you
\nif it tell my friends in
\nlondon
\nthat I want to kill myself
\ntheyre not interested
\nthey don’t want to know about that part of me
\nits really doing my fucking head in!
\nyou know
\nmy mum said the strangest thing to me last night
\nshe said that it doesn’t matter if things don’t work out
\nbetween me and M
\nbecause you can get back together again with billy
\ni said –
\nbut mum what about kyra? He’s still with kyra mum
\nand she said that that dint matter
\nwe arrange a tiome to meet and I replace the receiver<\/p>\n
\nthis girl isn’t hard and arrogant
\nshe is lost and alone
\nand somehow
\ni wish I could have been kinder to her<\/p>\n
\nwhen keerah was 22
\nshe found that she was 12 weeks pregnant
\nshe looked at me with fear in her eyes
\n– what shall I do?
\n– She asked me
\n– – its up to you I said
\n– ile support you in whatever dessision you make<\/p>\n
\ni thought I was being so holy
\nso decent
\nso understanding
\nbut I didn’t stop to look inside
\nand to treat her with enough respect
\nto make the demands of what I wanted<\/p>\n
\nin truth I was too young
\ntoo drunk
\nand too tied into my own dream
\nof hell
\nto know my own heart<\/p>\n
\ni failed keerah
\nand I faild our unborn child
\nwho I kiss now
\nwith this poem<\/p>\n
\nmy girlfriend lives
\non the other side of the world
\nand
\nhas
\nstarted
\nreading
\ncrime and punishment
\nby fydor dostoyevski<\/p>\n
\ni ask her excitedly
\n– doesn’t he remind you of me?<\/p>\n
\nshe ansewers
\nwhats his name?<\/p>\n
\nbut all the characters
\nhave about 3 different names
\ni always get confused
\nand
\ncant tell who is who
\nbecause im dislexic and don’t make sounds for the names
\nbut rodya is for short
\nand
\nhis sister is called dunya
\nisn’t dunya a butiful name?
\nif little huddie had been born a girl
\nwe would of named her
\nDunya
\nwhen I talk of the buti
\nof girls names
\nor the strange bravery
\nof artists
\nor see
\nthe lite change
\nover sea
\nand sky
\nevery second impossible showers of
\ngold
\nturning to terrible hues of purple
\nand
\nblack
\nand
\nmy
\nhart rate quickens
\nbecause
\ni am amongst
\nmy
\nown
\npeople<\/p>\n
\nthe hero of all my favourite novels
\ni live in them
\nand they
\nlive in me
\ni am Arturo bandini
\non angels flight
\nswearing at a butiful dark haired girl
\nin tattered shoes
\ni am rodya
\nguilty of a terrible and senceless murder
\non the streets of st peterersburg
\ni am the strange hero of hunger
\nstarving to spite myself in christiana
\ni am johan nagel
\ntormentor of the midget
\nand suiside
\ni am ishmail
\nknocker off of tall hats
\ni am every novelist
\nand
\nevery character ever dreamed
\ni am everyone of my favorite artists
\nand
\ni feel myself not one jot less
\nbut equell to all of them
\nTurner
\nMunch
\nHolbine
\nand
\nHokusi<\/p>\n
\ni am my heros
\ni am my brothers
\nand sisters
\ni feel myself joined by the soul
\nwith all buti
\nmy hart sings with every brave endevor
\nwith the strange wings of impossible butterflys
\nwith every rock that breaths life into the world<\/p>\n
\nall denouncers of meaness
\ni honour spirit and faith
\nand I uphold the glorious amiture
\ni am in love with desperate men
\nwith desperate hands
\nwalking in 2nd hand shoes
\nserching for god
\nand
\nhearing god
\nand hating god
\ni am a desperate man buckled with fear
\ni am a desperate man who demands to be listend to
\nwho demands to connect
\ni am a desperate man who denounces the dullness of
\nmoney
\nand status
\ni am a desperate man will not bow down to acolayed or
\nsuccess
\ni am a desperate man who loves the simplicity of painting
\nand hates gallarys and white walls and the dealers in art
\nwho loves unreasonableness
\nand hot headedness
\nwho loves contradiction
\nhates publishing houses
\nand
\nalso I am Vincent van gogh
\nhiroshige
\nand every living breathing artist
\nwho dares to draw god
\non this planet<\/p>\n