What would your first choice be
On your 'bucket list'?
Imagine being able to choose
All the things that you've missed.
Isn't that depressing
What a glum thought
The fantasies and dreams
That can never be bought.
Constant erections
And rent boys on tap
If I ever won the lottery
I'd fritter it on
Dirty Old Man crap.
Some of the things
I'll never obtain
Just thinking about it
Is bringing me pain.
Having the confidence
To look up and smile
A row of pearly whites
Would be top of the pile.
Being taken to a nightclub
And being able to dance.
Popping over the Channel
To converse with the locals in France.
Going to bed at night
And cuddling up with another boy
Instead of being all alone
With a cold cuddly toy.
Shopping at the supermarket
For a big joint of meat
Without counting the pennies
For it to be a rare treat.
Getting home without junk
All over the floor
Inviting a friend or two in
Unashamed to open the door.
My mind plays tricks
And I still crave a drink
Want to go back to a gallon of beer a night
Which is what I would sink.
I want six numbers on the lottery
The mythical lucky flutter
Can I please be normal
Rather than the 'closet nutter'?
Even if I had the money
There's one thing that can never be bought
Me having an ordinary life
That I won't cut short.
I'll never be 'normal'
Until I put my cards on the table
And accept to myself
I'm emotionally unstable.
It's not just about alcohol
That old A.A. line
I need to get would up less
And think 'one day at a time'
It might not make me better
And I'll still mentally whine
But to outsiders looking in
My life will be fine.
Dulwich Poet 20th August 2014
(A mix of what I'd like on my 'bucket list', but really what's wrong with my life...)
Wednesday 20 August 2014
"Errors"
Going round and round in circles
Won't fit into a square
The problem is I think too much
But why would you care?
I'm just that dinosaur from a Saturday
And a Tuesday night
The one who let himself down
By picking a fight.
Time for me to apologise
Crawl back into my shell
Problems are for others
Back to my hidden hell.
Dulwich Poet 20th August 2014
(I had a 'disagreement' with another fan, on the coach back from the away game at Leiston. This is me trying to get the fact that punches were thrown out of my system, or somethnig like that, I'm not sure)
Won't fit into a square
The problem is I think too much
But why would you care?
I'm just that dinosaur from a Saturday
And a Tuesday night
The one who let himself down
By picking a fight.
Time for me to apologise
Crawl back into my shell
Problems are for others
Back to my hidden hell.
Dulwich Poet 20th August 2014
(I had a 'disagreement' with another fan, on the coach back from the away game at Leiston. This is me trying to get the fact that punches were thrown out of my system, or somethnig like that, I'm not sure)
"Crazily Normal"
What makes you crazy?
What makes me sane?
A lifetime of assumptions
Wish I could start again.
I've never been sectioned
Not even seen a shrink
So why do I feel so un-normal
Despite what you all think.
A rhetorical question
Please don't dissect
It's hard enough coping
Without trying to reflect.
You know me at football
But not about my life
Dare you scratch at the surface
Unleash my cesspit of strife?
Inner demons
I don't want to the fore
Scared I'll go 'mental'
Well you know the score.
So I had a 'vulnerable' moment
And let my emotions slip
I sent someone an e-mail
In case my mind went flip.
Unburdened my thoughts
To another fans
Not one that I'm close to
Making him carry the can.
I don't things were connected
When its comes to the crunch
Perhaps I'm trying to justify excuses
For throwing a punch.
I'm Old Skool stubborn
Need to swallow my pride
Even if I feel hard done by
So much shit to hide.
Stick to the pretence of ordinary
Bury my pain
For if it comes to the surface
I'll end up under a train.
Time to say 'sorry'
By offering my palm
Digging deep in my reserves
Simply to stay calm.
The 'real me' popped out of the bottle
Reacting like thunder
Desperate to cork it
Hidden bubbling under.
At the moment I'm held together
By Pink & Blue string
If ever that unravels
I fear what the future will bring.
Dulwich Poet 20th August 2014
(Just over a week ago I sent an email to a fellow Dulwich fan, after a chat at a small party, 'dis-lodged' some deep thoughts about my past in me, as a consequence of us genrally chatting. I needed to share some of my 'dark' past with him, to clear my head. As far as I'm concerned he was just the 'unlucky' person, who I unburdened some stuff to. I feel a bit guilty about this, but there you go. A few days after this, I reacted badly to someone else on the coach back from an away game, and punches were thrown. I have no idea if the two things were related or not...This poem stems from yet another fan gently suggesting that I should apologise to the person on the coach, which I was plannnig to do anyway...)
What makes me sane?
A lifetime of assumptions
Wish I could start again.
I've never been sectioned
Not even seen a shrink
So why do I feel so un-normal
Despite what you all think.
A rhetorical question
Please don't dissect
It's hard enough coping
Without trying to reflect.
You know me at football
But not about my life
Dare you scratch at the surface
Unleash my cesspit of strife?
Inner demons
I don't want to the fore
Scared I'll go 'mental'
Well you know the score.
So I had a 'vulnerable' moment
And let my emotions slip
I sent someone an e-mail
In case my mind went flip.
Unburdened my thoughts
To another fans
Not one that I'm close to
Making him carry the can.
I don't things were connected
When its comes to the crunch
Perhaps I'm trying to justify excuses
For throwing a punch.
I'm Old Skool stubborn
Need to swallow my pride
Even if I feel hard done by
So much shit to hide.
Stick to the pretence of ordinary
Bury my pain
For if it comes to the surface
I'll end up under a train.
Time to say 'sorry'
By offering my palm
Digging deep in my reserves
Simply to stay calm.
The 'real me' popped out of the bottle
Reacting like thunder
Desperate to cork it
Hidden bubbling under.
At the moment I'm held together
By Pink & Blue string
If ever that unravels
I fear what the future will bring.
Dulwich Poet 20th August 2014
(Just over a week ago I sent an email to a fellow Dulwich fan, after a chat at a small party, 'dis-lodged' some deep thoughts about my past in me, as a consequence of us genrally chatting. I needed to share some of my 'dark' past with him, to clear my head. As far as I'm concerned he was just the 'unlucky' person, who I unburdened some stuff to. I feel a bit guilty about this, but there you go. A few days after this, I reacted badly to someone else on the coach back from an away game, and punches were thrown. I have no idea if the two things were related or not...This poem stems from yet another fan gently suggesting that I should apologise to the person on the coach, which I was plannnig to do anyway...)
Monday 18 August 2014
"Take It For Granted..."
How can you reconcile
Wrong from right
When you're on the bus
Having a fight?
Inside I'm simmering angry
Cos you were in my face
Deep down I know
There's a time and place.
I accept you were drunk
But you were a total shit
Am I trying to vindicate
Why you got hit?
I offered my hand
Trying to calm things down
But you threw it back in my face
Acting like a clown.
I'm not proud of what I did
Throwing a punch
But it's what you deserved
When it comes to the crunch.
In total honesty
I'm surprised it doesn't occur more
That's what happens to arseholes
You know the score.
You said you were joking
Leaning into my boat
Believe me, Grant
That's what got on my goat.
Shouting and spluttering
You were rather drunk
Giving it large
Like a common garden gnome punk.
I know what I should have done:
Sat down on the coach
But that wasn't going to happen
With your arsehole approach.
Maybe I should know better
As I no longer drink
But sometimes red mist comes down
There's no time to think.
Even though I've no shame
You got what you deserve
I must keep it in check
Life's still a learning curve.
I'm middle aged noe
Shouldn't be giving anyone a slap
'Cos deep down I know
I'm too old for that crap.
That's not to say
It won't happen next time
Despite you bleating assault
And me committing a crime.
For next time you get lairy
I'll make sure you get done
When no-one is looking
In a 'private' one-to-one.
Dulwich Poet 18th August 2014
(Another fan pushed me too far, and we had a bit of a 'disagreement' after getting back on the Supporters Coach at Leiston on Saturday...)Deep down I know I wasn't right to have a pop, but in terms of who was to blame, without a doubt the other person was far more in the wrong, as far as I am concerned. Actually a brief 'fuss over nothing', if truth be told)
Wrong from right
When you're on the bus
Having a fight?
Inside I'm simmering angry
Cos you were in my face
Deep down I know
There's a time and place.
I accept you were drunk
But you were a total shit
Am I trying to vindicate
Why you got hit?
I offered my hand
Trying to calm things down
But you threw it back in my face
Acting like a clown.
I'm not proud of what I did
Throwing a punch
But it's what you deserved
When it comes to the crunch.
In total honesty
I'm surprised it doesn't occur more
That's what happens to arseholes
You know the score.
You said you were joking
Leaning into my boat
Believe me, Grant
That's what got on my goat.
Shouting and spluttering
You were rather drunk
Giving it large
Like a common garden gnome punk.
I know what I should have done:
Sat down on the coach
But that wasn't going to happen
With your arsehole approach.
Maybe I should know better
As I no longer drink
But sometimes red mist comes down
There's no time to think.
Even though I've no shame
You got what you deserve
I must keep it in check
Life's still a learning curve.
I'm middle aged noe
Shouldn't be giving anyone a slap
'Cos deep down I know
I'm too old for that crap.
That's not to say
It won't happen next time
Despite you bleating assault
And me committing a crime.
For next time you get lairy
I'll make sure you get done
When no-one is looking
In a 'private' one-to-one.
Dulwich Poet 18th August 2014
(Another fan pushed me too far, and we had a bit of a 'disagreement' after getting back on the Supporters Coach at Leiston on Saturday...)Deep down I know I wasn't right to have a pop, but in terms of who was to blame, without a doubt the other person was far more in the wrong, as far as I am concerned. Actually a brief 'fuss over nothing', if truth be told)
Saturday 16 August 2014
"Always Heroes"
Such a shame
That we are living
In a land fit for heroes.
Such a shame...
As you are all dead
And you weren't heroes
When you came back alive.
The 'lucky ones'
Who were maimed
In the war to end all wars
Only to see your own sons
Take the place
Of your First world War mates
Piling up on the battlefield
Canvass covered mortuary floors.
But at least that was the war
That ended all wars.
Peace in our time
Since 1945.
Well that's if you
Forget about
Korea, the Suez & the Falklands
Kosova, Iraq & Iran
Ireland, Cyprus, Vietnam
Vietnam & Afghanistan...
1914. A hundred years on.
In a land fit for heroes.
As long as you
Dig deep in your pocket
To the fill the rattling charity tin
Which is how this Government sees fit
To help their modern heroes.
Dulwich Poet 16th August 2014
(This is one about my uneasiness about how we are looking back at the start of the First world War, in 1914, pretending there has been major peace since 1945, and how we now honour the millions who died as 'heroes' but they were not treated as such, when they came home...all of this is my interpretation....)
That we are living
In a land fit for heroes.
Such a shame...
As you are all dead
And you weren't heroes
When you came back alive.
The 'lucky ones'
Who were maimed
In the war to end all wars
Only to see your own sons
Take the place
Of your First world War mates
Piling up on the battlefield
Canvass covered mortuary floors.
But at least that was the war
That ended all wars.
Peace in our time
Since 1945.
Well that's if you
Forget about
Korea, the Suez & the Falklands
Kosova, Iraq & Iran
Ireland, Cyprus, Vietnam
Vietnam & Afghanistan...
1914. A hundred years on.
In a land fit for heroes.
As long as you
Dig deep in your pocket
To the fill the rattling charity tin
Which is how this Government sees fit
To help their modern heroes.
Dulwich Poet 16th August 2014
(This is one about my uneasiness about how we are looking back at the start of the First world War, in 1914, pretending there has been major peace since 1945, and how we now honour the millions who died as 'heroes' but they were not treated as such, when they came home...all of this is my interpretation....)
Wednesday 6 August 2014
"Scary Story"
The end of the world's near
We're soon going to be dead.
I'm sure that's what
The fish & chip wrapper said.
Brought over here
From a foreign shore
I can't believe Farage
Isn't protesting more.
Not content with taking our jobs
They come over here with disease
Bringing our dear old N.H.S.
Down to it's knees.
This is rather timely
As this AIDS threat fades
Bring on this Ebola
For the pharmacutical trades.
Billions to be made
Utter it under your breath
The only 'collateral'
Being African death.
When it was AIDS
You didn't care
Until you worked about
White bucks could be made there.
Researcg was 'too expensive'
When the victims were queer
It took straight middle class sying
To up the factor of fear.
Now the Ebola virus
Could be on its way
You need that vaccine
So in Africa it can stay.
Sadly we don't care
Our priorities never right
Dulwich Poet 6th August 2014
(I'm not too sure about this one, it's a poem about the Ebola Virus panic threat in the papers, the uncaring multi-national pharmacutical companies, and their slow uncaring response to AIDS in the 1980's)
We're soon going to be dead.
I'm sure that's what
The fish & chip wrapper said.
Brought over here
From a foreign shore
I can't believe Farage
Isn't protesting more.
Not content with taking our jobs
They come over here with disease
Bringing our dear old N.H.S.
Down to it's knees.
This is rather timely
As this AIDS threat fades
Bring on this Ebola
For the pharmacutical trades.
Billions to be made
Utter it under your breath
The only 'collateral'
Being African death.
When it was AIDS
You didn't care
Until you worked about
White bucks could be made there.
Researcg was 'too expensive'
When the victims were queer
It took straight middle class sying
To up the factor of fear.
Now the Ebola virus
Could be on its way
You need that vaccine
So in Africa it can stay.
Sadly we don't care
Our priorities never right
Dulwich Poet 6th August 2014
(I'm not too sure about this one, it's a poem about the Ebola Virus panic threat in the papers, the uncaring multi-national pharmacutical companies, and their slow uncaring response to AIDS in the 1980's)
"Sickly Shade of Green"
My memory may be playing up
But I'm not sure that it is
Are you one of those 'greenie' types
Taken in by the environmental swizz?
You did what you had to do
Showing us the lead
Recycling bags and bottles
Ahead of lazy greed.
The future of our planet
Just like your fuel backfired
And earth will be as washed-up
As a dump like the Isle of Thanet.
Were you one of those who went diesel
Spuring the polluting petrol pump
Pretending it was environmental
Instead of avoiding a price jump?
I'll play the gullible type
And pretend it wasn't the money
So you've got to scrap your vechicle
I think it's real funny.
Doing the right thing
Was your ironic factor
Now you're polluting more
Than a giant 'Chelsea Tractor'!
Scrap your motor or
The congestion charge will double
But if it saves the planet
Tell me what's the trouble?
If you're genuine about our planet
And want to save us from climate change
Give it a rest and stop bleating
If a new car's out of your range.
Dulwich Poet 6th August 2014
(This is about the green environmentalists whose' caring' has backfired a bit. I'm sure that diesel motors were once pushed as being the better way, but now they are pure evil, and the Mayor of London is calling for the £10 congestion charge in London to be doubled for diesel cars)
But I'm not sure that it is
Are you one of those 'greenie' types
Taken in by the environmental swizz?
You did what you had to do
Showing us the lead
Recycling bags and bottles
Ahead of lazy greed.
The future of our planet
Just like your fuel backfired
And earth will be as washed-up
As a dump like the Isle of Thanet.
Were you one of those who went diesel
Spuring the polluting petrol pump
Pretending it was environmental
Instead of avoiding a price jump?
I'll play the gullible type
And pretend it wasn't the money
So you've got to scrap your vechicle
I think it's real funny.
Doing the right thing
Was your ironic factor
Now you're polluting more
Than a giant 'Chelsea Tractor'!
Scrap your motor or
The congestion charge will double
But if it saves the planet
Tell me what's the trouble?
If you're genuine about our planet
And want to save us from climate change
Give it a rest and stop bleating
If a new car's out of your range.
Dulwich Poet 6th August 2014
(This is about the green environmentalists whose' caring' has backfired a bit. I'm sure that diesel motors were once pushed as being the better way, but now they are pure evil, and the Mayor of London is calling for the £10 congestion charge in London to be doubled for diesel cars)
Monday 4 August 2014
"A Century On"
It was one hundred years ago today
So began the war to end all wars.
If you're one who looks back in horror & disgust
Please take a moment to pause.
It was lions led by donkeys
Who perished in many a foreign field
Working class from Camberwell
Next to Dulwich Village well heeled.
The bullets were indescriminate
Mowing down a generation
Our young men doing the 'right thing'
To defend our nation.
It was almost the start of the season
Our boys polishing up their boots
Some never to wear Pink & Blue again
Perishing in their khaki suits.
Hanging in our boardroom
Is the memorial to those who died
A tribute from founder 'Pa' Wilson
Recalling his lads with pride.
Each and every one of them
Indeed his pride and joy
Loved them all as if his own
Football sons- man and boy.
Looking back it seems barbaric
Hindsight's such an easy thing
But who could have envisaged
The horrors this war would bring?
Such footballing sacrifice
Over the top we go
"Forward The Hamlet!"
Innocent gung ho.
It should have been over by Christmas
In time to play Nunhead or Townley Park
Four years of sacrifice
Wasn't such a lark.
We'll never know how our players perished
In rat infested trenches and mud
Just hope they didn't know what hit them
As they hit no-mans land with a thud.
Tomorrow we play our football 'enemy'
Green pitch pre-season nice
As you get worked up hot under the collar
Remember those who paid the price.
Dulwich Poet 4th August 2014
(I got a text this morning, by one of my fellow webmasters, asking me to post something about the start of the First World War on the Club website. I'm not sure what he was looknig for, but this poem was the result. I'm not sure if publishing it on an official club website is the right place for it, but I did..The last line refers to our last pre-season friendly tomorrow, Dulwich Hamlet at home to our 'arch rivals' tooting & micham united.)
So began the war to end all wars.
If you're one who looks back in horror & disgust
Please take a moment to pause.
It was lions led by donkeys
Who perished in many a foreign field
Working class from Camberwell
Next to Dulwich Village well heeled.
The bullets were indescriminate
Mowing down a generation
Our young men doing the 'right thing'
To defend our nation.
It was almost the start of the season
Our boys polishing up their boots
Some never to wear Pink & Blue again
Perishing in their khaki suits.
Hanging in our boardroom
Is the memorial to those who died
A tribute from founder 'Pa' Wilson
Recalling his lads with pride.
Each and every one of them
Indeed his pride and joy
Loved them all as if his own
Football sons- man and boy.
Looking back it seems barbaric
Hindsight's such an easy thing
But who could have envisaged
The horrors this war would bring?
Such footballing sacrifice
Over the top we go
"Forward The Hamlet!"
Innocent gung ho.
It should have been over by Christmas
In time to play Nunhead or Townley Park
Four years of sacrifice
Wasn't such a lark.
We'll never know how our players perished
In rat infested trenches and mud
Just hope they didn't know what hit them
As they hit no-mans land with a thud.
Tomorrow we play our football 'enemy'
Green pitch pre-season nice
As you get worked up hot under the collar
Remember those who paid the price.
Dulwich Poet 4th August 2014
(I got a text this morning, by one of my fellow webmasters, asking me to post something about the start of the First World War on the Club website. I'm not sure what he was looknig for, but this poem was the result. I'm not sure if publishing it on an official club website is the right place for it, but I did..The last line refers to our last pre-season friendly tomorrow, Dulwich Hamlet at home to our 'arch rivals' tooting & micham united.)
Sunday 3 August 2014
"The Wizard of Skill"
Suddenly you're dead
I didn't know your name
You were 'just' the 'Wizard of Skill'
In this big poetry game.
You were so entertaining
Bonkers unique
I can't believe you won't be
At an 'Open Mic' this week.
First time I saw you
I sat with a puzzled face
Soon changing to a grin
As you warmed up the place.
Your style was your own
As if you had nothing to lose
And if it wasn't for you
I'd never have heard of Sabrina Mahfouz.
I'm not religious...with no idea
What happens when we're gone
But the beauty of poetry
Is that your spirit lives on
We'll see you no more
But you'll always entertain
Thanks to the magic of 'You Tube'
We'll hear you again and again.
You're one of those poets
Who inspire me to write
And though we never spoke
May I now say-
Sleep well, Thank you, Good night.
Dulwich Poet 3rd August 2014
(The 'Wizard of Skill' was a poet, well known on the London 'Open-Mic' circuit. I didn't know him to talk to, but heard him quite a few times. Sadly I read that he had died, last week. I was at a poetry event on Sunday, & didn't realise there was an 'Open-Mic' bit, so I initially declined to put my name down. But I wrote this on the spot, and then read it in the 'second half'. The Sabrina Mahfouz reference was because one of his pieces was about being in love with her & her poetry!)
I didn't know your name
You were 'just' the 'Wizard of Skill'
In this big poetry game.
You were so entertaining
Bonkers unique
I can't believe you won't be
At an 'Open Mic' this week.
First time I saw you
I sat with a puzzled face
Soon changing to a grin
As you warmed up the place.
Your style was your own
As if you had nothing to lose
And if it wasn't for you
I'd never have heard of Sabrina Mahfouz.
I'm not religious...with no idea
What happens when we're gone
But the beauty of poetry
Is that your spirit lives on
We'll see you no more
But you'll always entertain
Thanks to the magic of 'You Tube'
We'll hear you again and again.
You're one of those poets
Who inspire me to write
And though we never spoke
May I now say-
Sleep well, Thank you, Good night.
Dulwich Poet 3rd August 2014
(The 'Wizard of Skill' was a poet, well known on the London 'Open-Mic' circuit. I didn't know him to talk to, but heard him quite a few times. Sadly I read that he had died, last week. I was at a poetry event on Sunday, & didn't realise there was an 'Open-Mic' bit, so I initially declined to put my name down. But I wrote this on the spot, and then read it in the 'second half'. The Sabrina Mahfouz reference was because one of his pieces was about being in love with her & her poetry!)
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