"My Sanctuary"

Ground floor
Well you call it 'First'
Why? I have no idea
Maybe it's to confuse ordinary oiks
In your middle class temple
With an actual singing lift
That is the Royal Festival Hall.
Whatever...that's where I head
First to the first
Staring down at the steel
Hoping my cock will appeal
To any man wanting to
Unwind and unload
After a hard frustrating day at the office
As nervous as me
Hot under the collar
You can bet your bottom dollar
That we will all end up frustrated
Rather than masturbated.
I head to my real sanctuary
The main reason for my visit
My poetry haven up on the floor five
An oasis keeping my brain sane.
Ordinary blokes just go down pub
Or escape to their garden shed
To clear the shit in their head.
Or collapse on your sofa
Listening to your favourite tune
Instead of morphing into a loon
To chase away your demons.
None of that is my cup of tea
Nor an option for alcoholic me
So I head to the Poetry Library
For my personal sanctuary.
I can't pretend to understand
All that I read
But I manage to get enough
For what I need.
Instead of having a sit at home mope
Unlocking my thoughts is how I cope.
Jotting down for inspiration
Often before I've left the station
Unless you write you won't understand
How do cleanse dark thoughts
With a cheap biro in hand.
Haven't got a partner
Just too much time to think
Unable to hide behind gallons of drink
Masquerading as a poet when I'm at the brink
My safety valve when ready to sink.

Dulwich Poet 19th June 2013

(I really enjoy visiting the Poetry Library, based in the Royal Festival Hall, on the South Bank of the Thames. I've really enjoyed writing some of my poetry since I started at the beginning of the year, it's like personal therapy, when my mind is in overdrive. Which is why I pop here so often. The fact the toilets are used by men looking for sex is a bonus!)