Great Haywood

Another bad letter for school today,

And my mum has already got stress,

I just feel now that I’m a burden on people,

And this is just gonna make mess.

Don’t wanna hear anger, don’t wanna hear shouting,

And I don’t wanna make my mum swear.

I just feel it’s better for everyone here,

If I made my own way elsewhere.

I don’t really know where I’m going to,

But the road down to Stafford ain’t far.

I just really hope, that I don’t get caught,

By someone that spots me from a car.

So I make my way a mile and half down the road,

Until there’s a turning to take,

There’s a sign that says ‘Stone’ and the name of it’s cool,

So that is the way that I make.

Never heard of this place but I think with that name,

That there’s surely something to see,

So I head on my way, and I think by now,

That my mum could be looking for me.

I walk through the village of Little Haywood,

Still trying to head towards Stone.

Across the road were two girls and one recognised me,

And I told them I’d run off from home.

They offered to help me get somewhere to sleep,

“We’ll sneak you some food too” they said.

I met them both later and at first the plan,

Was for one to sneak me into their shed.

“I can’t get you in, because my dad is at home,

But here’s a blanket you can keep.

I know just the place, there’s a ditch down the road,

It’s sheltered and you’ll get some sleep.”

So we made our way and walked up the road,

Through the village and to the top end.

And then we get to a junction where there’s a main road,

The way to Stone just round the bend.

One girl pointed over to across the road,

And said “look there’s that ditch that you can stay.

It’s covered in trees, look we got to go back,

Because there’s not much light left in the day”.

They’d gave me a pillow and I made a bed,

With a blanket and a bag that I’d lent.

They gave me some fruit and said “we’ve got to scoot,

We’ll see you tomorrow” then went.

I wondered around for a short while,

But soon did come quick the dark night.

And every few minutes came fast cars and headlights,

I just hoped I stayed out of sight.

By now I know that I’ve crossed the line,

And I’ve actually now ran away.

But I’m under the moon and now look at the stars,

And I haven’t thought once about the next day.

When morning came I then wandered around,

But there’s nothing at all here I can do.

So I waited around, to meet up with the girls,

When I’ll see them I’ve not got a clue.

In the afternoon I then bumped into them,

When they got back home from their school,

“The police have been asking us all about you”

She said, but I just kept my cool.

“We’ll pop up by later, and drop you some food”,

One of the girls had then said to me,

“I’ll sneak out my pudding and come and bring it out,

To you, once I’ve finished my tea”.

I met them both later and one girl had said,

“Maybe it’s time that you went home.”

I said “I’ll be alright, I’ll just be one night,

Then make my way over to Stone”.

And then around midnight I must have been tired,

As I stared at the branch of the tree.

For over five minutes I’d contemplated,

If there was a big spider in front of me.

I’d got really scared and then so made a leap,

Right out of the bush quick like a stag.

Now what do I do, because in there’s my blanket,

My food, my coat and my bag.

So I make my way just a few yards down the road,

To a house with some lights I could see.

I knocked on the door, a middle-aged man then answered,

I said “Please mate could you help me?”

“I think there’s a spider in the bush I’ve been sleeping,

And I just need to get back my stuff”.

“How old are you mate?” he then asked me,

“And why are you there sleeping rough?”

“Seventeen” I then said, “and I’ve been kicked out,

Is there anything at all you can do?”

“I’ll just get my torch” he then said in reply,

“Then I will come there to help you”.

We walked to the bush and then he shone his torch,

And said “It’s alright there’s nothing to fear.

Your stuff is alright, and there is no sight,

Of a spider that would bite you here.”

So then I said “thanks”, and then off the man went,

And I felt like a fool for my scare.

And then I could see around four miles away,

A helicopter up in the air.

“What if that helicopter was looking for me,

It’s probably not” In my head I had said,

Before closing my eyes, to try for some sleep,

But I’ve still got those thoughts in my head.

I’d got no more than around one hours sleep,

And I’d woken up covered in sticks.

I went to find warmth but there was nowhere at all,

By now it was sometime around six.

Two hours go by, oh now what should I do?

I shouldn’t stay here one day again.

But most of my morning I simply spent trying,

To get myself out of the rain.

I did all that I could, to try and find shelter,

But there’s nowhere this village is small.

And then on my way back, again to the ditch,

It seemed that I’d hit a brick wall.

I don’t know how I’m gonna survive,

No money, no food and I’m wet.

There’s nowhere to go, except for back home,

And then I just had got upset.

The only thing, I could think of to do,

Was to flag down a car that comes by.

And tell them that I, have ran away,

They’ll get me home into the dry.

So I see some cars, and I wave and I shout,

But the first five or so cars ignore.

And then a nice lady stops whilst I am crying,

I tell her I can’t run no more.

“Get in she says, I’ll help you get back,

I’m a nurse” then she showed me ID.

I said I was scared that I’d let them all down,

But she said they’d be glad to see me.

We got to her house and she gave me a towel,

And then she rang the police from her phone,

Walked back in the room and said “they’re on their way,

They all just want you back at home.”

A policeman came by, and then picked me up,

I was scared that my mum would be mad.

“Don’t worry” he said, “You just need a bed,

You’re alright and everyone’s glad.”

“If you’d not been found within the next half an hour,

We were gonna put you on the TV.”

And then said last night, that they’d got a chopper,

Out all night looking for me.

Poetry written by Ben Westwood, Musician and poet. UK
Copyright Ben Westwood.

To view all fourteen current poems from this project click here.

To order a signed colour copy you can order via paypal below.
The price is £18.99 including postage and packaging

A poem about living rough in West End aged around 13/14/15

West End adventures

I’m taking my old usual route,

From Green Park to Leicester Square.

It’s been a long day and night-time’s now here,

And my day on the beg has been fair.

I’m thinking of something for me to do,

I’ve got sixty pounds now here in cash.

There’s guys standing at the corner of the Trocadero,

Selling the tourists some hash.

It’s not the first time that I’ve tried to buy weed,

But more often than not I’ve been skanked.

But once in a while, I trust a warm smile,

And I see that it’s good and their thanked.

But others will lead you, walking through Soho,

And lose you so they can buy crack.

And once out of sight, you know that their gone,

And you know that you won’t get your cash back.

But there in West End, it wasn’t all bad,

No matter how it sometimes seems.

You’d get some good smokes, from South American blokes,

And the hippy entrepreneur Europeans.

And I never really liked to drink very much,

But maybe I’ll have whisky today.

And maybe a meal from a train station restaurant,

And in the arcades I might play.

I might buy a camera, a disposable one,

And take some photos for back home.

Or I might even buy myself some new clothes,

Or maybe a mobile phone.

Could get a haircut, it’s only five pounds,

From the place up on Charing Cross Road,

Or just spend the whole night browsing the web,

In a net café if it rained or it snowed.

I might spend the night, on Yahoo chat,

Being honest I live on the street,

And if I’m so tired, that I am wired,

I’ll get an hour’s sleep on the seat.

Arm’s on the table, head’s in my arm’s,

I’m in an uncomfortable heap,

But the guard from the all night internet café,

Says “look mate soz you can’t sleep”.

So I make my way past Trafalgar Square,

And start walking back to Green Park.

But I’ll sleep by the road, where I know that I’m safe,

Cuz I don’t trust the perves in the dark.

They already come to me in the day,

And say “I’ll give you twenty quid for a blow”.

But I’ll make sure I’m loud and shout “fuck off you perve,

I’ll do you in if you don’t go”.

I’ll roar like a lion, and make sure they’re runnin,

And chase them until they’re shit scared,

It’s because that I’m young and they think that I’m desperate,

But my pride is not to be spared.

It was good that an angel came and he spoke,

With a strong lasting message to me.

“You’ve got to stay wise, and look out for the guys,

Who’ll offer you some gear for free”.

And indeed they came, a handful of times,

And each every time I’d say no.

And again I would roar, but I know that I’m young,

And half the time it was a show.

Still something in them, knew I was a kid,

And each every time they would go,

Without having a fight and they’d walk out of sight,

Knowing I wasn’t so slow.

There’s plenty of real walking tragic life stories,

Walk past me all through the day.

It’s a ludicrous business that’s open all hours,

But my life ain’t what I will pay.

Sometimes I’d sleep in Leicester Square,

In a big doorway by the main street.

I’d try to get sleep, but street cleaners would beep,

So I’d just chill or find food to eat.

I’d always meet people, that were no questions asked,

About answers I did not want to say.

Those people were friendly, by now I’d forgot,

That I even had ran away.

Sometimes I would walk, to Covent Garden,

To beg money and watch the odd show.

I knew I’d do well if I sat by the cashpoint,

Cuz I rinsed it on my first go.

As always I would, be careful to be,

Looking out for the old bill.

And if they were coming, I’d soon hide my hat,

Be normal and try to be still.

As long as they don’t, hear me begging,

Not often anything they will do,

But my heart always beats, I want luck on my side,

And thank god when they’ve gone and passed through.

But if they do stop, to check who I am,

I give the same old story I make.

A false date of birth, and a quick made up name,

And hoping I don’t make a mistake.

I’ll pull on my trousers, to expose my leg,

And say I’d been stabbed in the thigh.

I know that it’s not, what is on my own record,

So I may as well give it a try.

Sometimes they would ask, if I was a name,

That came up on the police radio,

But I just shrugged my shoulders, and said that I weren’t him,

And most of the time they would go.

So then I’d pack up, in case they’d walk back,

And then I’d walk off to some place.

Because I don’t know still, if the old bill,

Had once seen a snap of my face.

I’m somewhere by Bond Street, still learning these streets,

And I’m not sure where this backstreet goes.

But after a while, I’ll soon find my way,

To the doorway at Tokyo Joes.

Upon my return, sometimes I would find,

People had left me food to eat.

A bag full of pastries or a large cold ‘hot chocolate’,

From the staff in the café up the street.

It’s felt a good day, whatever I’ve done,

I guess I enjoy that I’m free,

Got luck on my side, and not yet found my pride,

But for now this is where I will be.

Poetry written by Ben Westwood, Musician and poet. UK
Copyright Ben Westwood.

To view all fourteen current poems from this project click here.

Follow the true story of a young teenager running away from home and the state, in a premature search for independence. In poetry.

Making choices that often only a young mind would make, Ben tells his story and memories of being in the social services system from eleven years old, as well as 1990’s London street life, as a missing runaway sleeping rough.

From angels, predators, shocking times to heart-warming moments, Musician and now debut author Ben Westwood gives an insight into the mind of a rebellious-spirited youngster trying to find his own way in the world.

To order a signed colour copy you can order via paypal below.
The price is £18.99 including postage and packaging

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Poems From a Runaway - Great Haywood

Great Haywood

Poems From a Runaway - West end Adventures