Poetry
Or whatever you want
To call my words
Which I jot down
And share
Opening my heart
Laying my emotions bare
But tonight...
I couldn't do it.
Open Mic's my therapy
Wells Way should be my territory
But I'm struggling tonight
Not so much stage fright
Even though I've
Not bothered to write.
I'M SCARED.
Am I allowed to say that
Without feeling too much of a prat?
Emotionally I'm drowning
Struggling to keep calm
Without causing too much alarm.
Not as if it's a shock
To stand up and confess
I'm in a serious crisis
My life in a mess.
Thoughts of suicide
In my head
Weighing up the pros and cons
Of being brown bread.
Five minutes later
I enveloped with hope
Only to be followed with desperation
Failing to cope.
So the reason I gave my poetry a miss
Prepare yourself, how stupid is this...
I'm muddling through
Ready to break down in tears
But I'm a bloke who hides feelings
Not wanting to break down in public
One of my worst fears.
Im sure I'll be alright
Muddling through the week
Otherwise there's no future
Which must sound bleak.
Hopefully 'common sense'
Will ultimately prevail
Prayers answered by 'my god'
The legendary Edgar Kail.
For the dead can't pay
What they haven't got
Only a caring council
And bailiffs will stop the rot.
Dulwich Poet 11th May 2014
( I had a really bad weekend, I've had problems with Council Tax debts, and have been getting threatening letters from bailiffs, which I have ignored...When I wrote this it was a couple of days after a got a letter saying bailiffs would enter my flat. I felt like my world was caving in, and had no future...but I've since spoken to the Citizens Advice Bureau, and hope is at hand that things will sort out. Truth be told I am a little scared of myself when I am in the mood I am in when I wrote this one...)
Sunday 11 May 2014
"Wanky Life"
So much on my mind
For once I agree
With an old mate of mine
When she told me
The biggest problem I have
Is that I think too much.
This weekend
At least
I make her
One hundred per cent right.
My 'escape route'
Doesn't seem as simple
As I thought it was.
To live or to die?
Where I'm sat
It's a struggle
Not to cry
Downstairs
At the front
Of a number three bus
Up to the Parade
In the lonely desperation
Of a late night fumble.
How sad is that?
Mustn't grumble
For that's what
Part of me wants...
DEATH not the wank.
But I'm not Jesus Christ
And will have to settle
For one out of two
Which is rising up
And cumming again.
Dulwich Poet 11th May 2014
(I was not in the best frame of mind when I wrote this, having some serious suicidal thoughts. I wrote this on the bus on the way to a late night toilet...)
For once I agree
With an old mate of mine
When she told me
The biggest problem I have
Is that I think too much.
This weekend
At least
I make her
One hundred per cent right.
My 'escape route'
Doesn't seem as simple
As I thought it was.
To live or to die?
Where I'm sat
It's a struggle
Not to cry
Downstairs
At the front
Of a number three bus
Up to the Parade
In the lonely desperation
Of a late night fumble.
How sad is that?
Mustn't grumble
For that's what
Part of me wants...
DEATH not the wank.
But I'm not Jesus Christ
And will have to settle
For one out of two
Which is rising up
And cumming again.
Dulwich Poet 11th May 2014
(I was not in the best frame of mind when I wrote this, having some serious suicidal thoughts. I wrote this on the bus on the way to a late night toilet...)
Sunday 4 May 2014
"Split Second Indecision"
Sitting on the top deck
My eye catches
The indicator board
At East Dulwich station.
For that brief second
I anticipated jumping off
For the thirteen fifty four
That would have got me
To South Bermondsey
For bang on two.
I would have only missed
The first ten minutes
Of Millwall Lionesses
Versus Reading.
But I am already heading
Up to town
Wearing a frown
Such is the fickle hand
That determines
My humdrum fate.
Dulwich Poet 4th May 2014
(My intention waas to go to The Den, by there were no trains on my line. So I jumped on a bus, and noticed, too late, I could have made it by getting off at East Dulwich. So I stayed on the bus, and didn't watch any football.)
My eye catches
The indicator board
At East Dulwich station.
For that brief second
I anticipated jumping off
For the thirteen fifty four
That would have got me
To South Bermondsey
For bang on two.
I would have only missed
The first ten minutes
Of Millwall Lionesses
Versus Reading.
But I am already heading
Up to town
Wearing a frown
Such is the fickle hand
That determines
My humdrum fate.
Dulwich Poet 4th May 2014
(My intention waas to go to The Den, by there were no trains on my line. So I jumped on a bus, and noticed, too late, I could have made it by getting off at East Dulwich. So I stayed on the bus, and didn't watch any football.)
"Lonely Journey"
Here I am
Sat on a bus
Going to nowhere.
Without a care...
Except when
I start to think
Which causes me to blink
Attempting to
Hold back a tear
Which isn't there.
A sunny Sunday
Followed by a
Bank Holiday tomorrow.
Best laid plans
And all that
The New Den
Millwall Lionesses
But only because
Crystal Palace Ladies
versus Old Actonians
At the National Sports Centre
Was a 'double header'
And I have no idea
Whether to record that
As one game or two.
So it was Millwall-Plan B.
Scuppered!
By engineering works
Meaning no trains
Which explains
Why I'm on a
176 bus
Going to nowhere
Where I'll jump off at
Trafalagar Square
Where I shall sit
Alone, confused, content
Full of self pity
In a calm mood
While feeling shitty.
Comfort shopping
Popping...
Into a bookshop for
A 'one handed' read
To fulfil my
Sexual need
Before heading for
The South Bank
Combining the Poetry Library
With a toilet wank
Before getting back
On my bus
That will take me home
To my solitary life
That is going nowhere.
Dulwich Poet 4th May 2014
(This one sums up how I do nothing with my life, a Sunday when I just got out of the house for something to do, deciding to go to a womens football match, but not getting there. Instead just going up town, before going home)
Sat on a bus
Going to nowhere.
Without a care...
Except when
I start to think
Which causes me to blink
Attempting to
Hold back a tear
Which isn't there.
A sunny Sunday
Followed by a
Bank Holiday tomorrow.
Best laid plans
And all that
The New Den
Millwall Lionesses
But only because
Crystal Palace Ladies
versus Old Actonians
At the National Sports Centre
Was a 'double header'
And I have no idea
Whether to record that
As one game or two.
So it was Millwall-Plan B.
Scuppered!
By engineering works
Meaning no trains
Which explains
Why I'm on a
176 bus
Going to nowhere
Where I'll jump off at
Trafalagar Square
Where I shall sit
Alone, confused, content
Full of self pity
In a calm mood
While feeling shitty.
Comfort shopping
Popping...
Into a bookshop for
A 'one handed' read
To fulfil my
Sexual need
Before heading for
The South Bank
Combining the Poetry Library
With a toilet wank
Before getting back
On my bus
That will take me home
To my solitary life
That is going nowhere.
Dulwich Poet 4th May 2014
(This one sums up how I do nothing with my life, a Sunday when I just got out of the house for something to do, deciding to go to a womens football match, but not getting there. Instead just going up town, before going home)
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