My Five Bristol Boys.

                Breathe, breathe in the air,

                             Don’t be afraid to care.

Dean, jiggles – his quaking arms shake his little chair.

Flibbertigibbety.

He’s sick in the gutter.

Fifteen years ago a beautiful rent boy. Lovely teeth destroyed by his habit.

His face a mask – dead already. Too many fake teeth smile.

Drinking coke – On dialysis without clean veins. Kidneys failing: heroin will kill.

Its getting better, getting better all the time – The white horse ended his life it on Christmas Eve last year.

                Breathe, breathe in the air,

                             Don’t be afraid to care.

Matthew stares silent as a penny on the pavement.

Long legs in warm boots. Heads up to stare at the St Matthew’s church on the hill. People scurry past.

Polite soft, sweet baby blue eyes; he came from Bournemouth to Bristol.

Girlfriend gave him HIV.

He’s peeing blood in A and E.

sweet baby blue eyes;

He’s saving £12 for B&B in the Backpacker’s hostel. Bruised face today. Someone stole his sleeping bag. Replacements from Salvation army.

Salvation.

                Leave, don’t leave me.

                             Walk around and chose your own ground.

 

Clive. Bum fluff on chin. Face covered with scabies. Smells of a urinal. Dirty disease. Chip on shoulder. Hates sitting on cardboard.

No mates to look out for him. Sleeps in the Park toilet. Always asks for £21.

Whispers reading the Metro. One finger follows the text.

He’s READING…..

                Breathe, breathe in the air,

                             Don’t be afraid to care.

 

Sean. Dirty hands, nails like claws. Sits opposite the museum in old piss and shade. Rolls up teeny ciggies. Drinks a coffee with 12 sugars. Sleeps in a hedge on Brandon Hill. A little den. Nicotine staining on hands, beard, teeth, face, everything.

Washes in the cold water at the petrol station. One pair of Jeans. HOBBLES.

Yes, to new socks and cash. NO to hat, gloves, scarf.

He’s going to the hostel in Jamaica Street.

” They have real knives and forks there.” One Saturday he’s there and

I never see him again, never see him again.

                Leave, don’t leave me.

                             Walk around and chose your own ground.

 

The other year Sammy Beckenham jumped off the Suspension Bridge and floated to Spike Island.

Obituary Notices in the Bear Pit:-

          Sorry for the misunderstanding Bruv.

          If you saw what I saw in you…..

          My singing buddy xx love Beth.

          Sam you Kethead, give me a line.

          Sam….you beautiful soul, keep singing , keep singing, I’ll never understand you—love and peace.

          Peace and love, love and peace

          Keep singing, keep singing. 

                Breathe, breathe in the air,

                             Don’t be afraid to care.

                Leave, don’t leave me.

                             Walk around and chose your own ground.

                For long you’ll live and High you’ll fly,

                             But only if you’ll ride the tide,

                And balanced on the biggest wave

                             You race towards an early grave.

                Breathe, breathe in the air.*

 

RIP Dean, 24th December 2019

RIP Sam Beckenham October 2017

Sean last seen in August 2015

Matthew seen on the Gloucester Road going to a new flat up Berkley Road, 2017

Clive – still hustling.

*Pink Floyd

 

Poem by Hilary Mayne, in memory of Dean Telfer, one of the many young men she got to know over time who sold The Big Issue, or who begged, or were ill or had mental health issues – and also Sam Beckenham and the people in the Bear Pit who were so devastated by his death. 
submitted by MJ Thornton