Jesse Wilson, a UK-based poet, writer, and storyteller, is the reigning WORD Stafford Poetry Slam Champion. His work has graced anthologies such as ‘Attitude of Gratitude’ by Poets Choice and “Fieldnotes on Allyship – Achieving Equality Together.” Jesse’s creative pursuits extend to preserving cultural narratives for the England Arts Council-funded Duppy Stories project. He crafted and performed a solo poem and short play at the Wolverhampton Central Library 2023 Windrush 75th Anniversary Celebration.
In addition to captivating audiences with his poetry at diverse UK venues, both in person and online, Jesse wears a professional hat as a Chartered Mechanical Engineer, boasting over two decades of IT experience. His personal life is enriched by a loving family—his wife, two sons, and a laid-back dog.
Jesse is more than an artist; he is a certified Mental Health First Aider who passionately advocates for mental health and well-being. Hailing from the East Midlands and shaped by the East Sussex coast, Jesse’s work delves into the depths of race, identity, personal growth, wellness, and mental health themes. His mission is to promote living a happy and fulfilling life while championing the balance between professional success and personal well-being.

Nuts and Immortality

Caution: may contain traces of nuts. These are the words I read in the supermarket on the packaging after dusk. They stand in proud italics, declaring the harm they may cause. Allergens are not for people with a vigorous immune response, but I’d like to know if they intend to be inclusive or merely list the people I can’t bite. I do not act with conscious bias; I like tall, thin, small, and fat ones, only some are not so agreeable to my palette. Immortality is like having friends with benefits; it suffers from the provocation of discontent. Still, some choices are not mine to make, but rather endure, and I always have tomorrow.

Chaos

I look at my watch, and it says 8.54 am. So, I ask myself, ‘What level of chaos do I subscribe to today?’ As expected, I receive an incoherent answer.

A Conversation With Self-Doubt

Uninvited, once again, self-doubt has let himself in, sitting proud and comfortably in my living room with the biggest grin.

I say “hello,” because I was brought up to be polite. He nods and begins with, “I have come to rescue you and save you a fight.”

“A fight,” I say,” in what way, who, what and when?”

He rolls up his sleeves and says,” You know I am here to protect you and be your friend; I have sworn to see off all your mortal enemies to the end.”

“Yes, I am grateful, but!” I say.

“But! he bellows, “But, who saved you from being consumed by Shame? Who protected your dignity and kept you from life’s awful game?”

“Yes, you did; it’s just I look at my goals and dreams, and they are a distance far; I am no more happier or convinced of who you are.”

“You see, I am starting to wonder about your intentions and what happens each time your name is mentioned. For a long time, you had me think you were helping, but I now see on your part it was based on a self-important need. You tell me lies and a twisting of the truth, feeding on my fear which unfortunately grew with your orchestration of social proof.”

“I have now had enough of you informing me I am not good enough, of you depriving me of all the good stuff!”

“While I am at it, truth be told

I am finding your company rather boring and old

I don’t need you to drain my energy and steal my fire

I don’t want you to make me second guess and diminish my desire

I have seen what I can be without you

I am stronger than you believe

It’s time we parted company,

I have a new future to conceive.”

“Fair enough,” he says, “but you know you will never be good enough; you are not worthy or deserving of any of the good stuff. I will always be around, like that penny that will always be found.”

With that, I got up, opened the front door, showed him the way, and bid him a good day because I was brought up polite.