Poetry by
Money’s
Jamie Lee

Envisaged as a record that sounded like it was “coming from death”, Money’s second album Suicide Songs, released earlier this year, dredges a savage beauty from its bleak and morbid contents. It was made following a period of self-doubt, punctuated by drunkenness, mental ill health and poetry, for songwriter Jamie Lee. He shares one of his poems with Big Issue North.

the oddest couple in humanity

‘excuse me mate
have you got a pound
so I can get
something
to
eat?’

‘sorry’
I have no quids
And I walk across the road

But look back
I love these desperate men

He turns on a quid
To the one behind him
Who’s asking too

‘why are you getting in my way?’
it’s his quid turf

man looks back at him a moment,
thinks,
and says

‘why are YOU getting in MY way?’

they stare at each other
on the street
like a pair of lovers
…
whilst
the paradox sets in
they’re frozen
in the maths of the situation
each has a different
but correct
result
of the same equation

and then
something unknowable
and ancient
is spoken between them

and they walk off together
like a pair of pensioners
on a seaside holiday

I almost see them holding hands
As they round the bend
And go out of sight:

the oddest couple in humanity

but they are beautiful and true.

I have seen this many times

You have too.

So you must know

That

A man must make his way.

Because
A millionaire
Or for a quid
The two lies
Add up
to the same
ugly truth.

Desperation
And death
Make us all
Brothers
Of
A
Code
We would rather not,
If we had the never-given choice,
Ever learn.

‘Death’;
the only word
that life knows
off by heart.
And
We make it funny
And sometimes bearable
By giving it other
Less hideous
Names,
Like ‘money’
Which says
Only

‘now.
Forget death
I am your brother
…

for a quid’

or for a million dollars
it’s all the same
monkey.

But
Bless
Those sad sad
People
Cursed
With
The simple
Fact
Of
mere
Existence.

Without millions.

I just prefer
The man
Who wears his desperation
On his sleeve
Honestly
And wears it on the street

Because the ONLY difference
Between the poverty
And the millionaire
Is that the poverty’s lie
Is to your face
And that
Is good enough
For me.

There is no philosophy
No great lie
In his money.
Just
The
Forgiveness
Of
His
Pure
Need.

I get on the tube.
Read a paper.
Look at the girls.

And the millionaire
Walks past
This man
With the quid still rich
As a million,
Safe,
in his pocket.

Money: a bad poetry written by us all
I just prefer the poetry
That must be spoken
To oneself
And leaves us broke
Broke as we were born
Rather than the poem
That pleases us all
Galloping us
Just the same
Towards
A moneyless
Death.

The oddest couple in humanity:

The broke

And the rich man of million breaks.