"Decision Time"

Another year nearly over
I'm really scared to speak
Not getting any younger
Fearing my future's bleak.
Even though I'm healthy-ish
I think I've not got long to live
Despite kind words others might say
Don't feel I've got much to give.
If only I had a machine
One of those that go back in time...
Oh to be given the chance to start again
But who's to say it would all be fine?
I hate myself, I hate my life
Far fewer days good than bad
To scared to admit the problem's me
Because I'm always feeling sad.
Next year I need to set targets
As I'll reach half a century old
Because if I don't start doing it soon
The future's a mortuary slab cold.

Dulwich Poet 30th December 2015

(The poem speaks for itself. I turn fifty next year, & I'm not happy with life...)

"Short & Sweet"

A Facebook friend posted a football status:

Oh Dulwich, you make me happy
Oh Van Gaal, you make me sad.

To which I responded:

Short & sweet
Poetry can't be beat.

Dulwich Poet 29th December 2015

(Self explanatory!)

"Ten Years On"

They say life begins at forty
When I was too scared to jump
Sitting on a Brussels window-ledge
In mental pain but scared of the thump.
Now it's almost New Year
Soon to be fifty years of age
And I've got this nagging feeling
I'm reaching my final stage.
The only thing I will miss
Is seeing people say goodbye.
I'd love to those who don't care
As well as those ewho cry.
I've got this far not achieving
Life's been one BIG fail
I feel I've been one HUGE disappointment
Leaving despair in my trail.
I've hurt so many people
Family and friends
Not wanting to melodramatic
But I can't see where it all ends.
Yet as I get older...
I realise I've got a heart
But I feel everything's passed me by
To try and make a fresh start.
My life is really shitty
Even though I've come on leaps and bounds
In my head I've got no future
I know how crazy that sounds.
Every time I move one step forward
I get knocked two steps back
What the fuck is wrong with me
What is it that I lack?
My life has been an 'existence'
Rather than a life at all
Depending on what mood I'm in
I want to walk tall.
All the things I've done
All the things I've never been
Can I do anything with my life?
That remains to be seen.

Dulwich Poet 26th December 2015

(It's almost New Year, & next year I will reach 50 year-of-age. Part of me is looking forward to it, part of me is not. I feel I'm at 'Last Chance Saloon' & life never really 'began' at forty...)

"Merry Christmas"

At last I'm getting excited by Christmas
Sat on a 176 bus seat
On my way home the day before
Looking for a piece of meat.
I've got Tesco, Co-Op or Lidl
Tomorrow's food for one
Couldn't care less about Christmas
Just pigging out when all is said and done.
Plenty of DVD box sets
No need to leave my flat
Gonna enjoy myself & stuff my face
In the front room where I'll be sat.
I've a series of Mr. Selfridge
As well as Chicago Fire
Content enough in my own way
Even if you find it dire.
I'll wake up in the morning
Fifteen hours to kill
You might be full of pity
But for me it fits the bill.
I've just heard myself on a podcast
'Shocked' at the 'angriness' of my sound
But I can't shy away from reality
I'm beaten but not quite downed.
Without a doubt things could be better
Could also be a darnsight worse
Sometimes I celebrate being alive
At other times it's a curse.
Forget the 'festive spirit'
Tomorrow's 'just' another day
I'm living for the one that follows
When Dulwich Hamlet come out to play.

Dulwich Poet 24th December 2015

(Just explaining how I was going to spend my Christmas Day...and that's about how it went, with a lovely piece of pork from Lidl!)

" Special K's "

Almost there
It's Christmas Eve
Looking forward to it
Even though I don't believe.
Weather forecast's ok
Football at the weekend
Groundhopping again.
First my Dulwich Hamlet on Saturday
For my holiday treat
Then two days for new grounds
Which fits in quite neat.
Once Friday has gone
It's Boxing Day for my church
Champion Hill my spiritual home
Unless the weather leaves me in the lurch.
Kingstonian the visitors
With that chip on their shoulder
So jealous of our renaissance
Resentment continues to smoulder.
I've nothing really against them
But their fans are weird
Labelling us all hipsters
Cos some of us wear a beard.
Enjoy your visit though you won't
Have a good look around
See the community work we're doing
Then ask why you're losing your ground.
By sheer weight of numbers
A few of our fans are strange
But by law of averages
That's what comes with change.
Stay in your sad time warp
Struck in your Geoff Chapple bubble
Perhaps that's half the reason why
Your club is in so much trouble.
Bitter and twisted
Heads buried in the sand
Thinking you're still winning the Trophy
When you were the best in the land.
In fact you got to Wembley
Spending money you'd not got
Setting yourself up for asset strippers
And now that's your lot.
Soon you'll not have a ground
That you can call your own
You'll be scrabbling for any old place
As you wander and roam.
I genuinely hope you get sorted
And you stay alive
But that 'Schadenfreunde' in me
Won't care if you survive.
For you knock us now
And you lose your friends
We won't really care much at all
If it finally ends.
I used to quite respect you
But now you look down on us
When you become homeless
I'll wonder what's the fuss.
I always care about my friends
Speaking up for what's right
But you're so full of hate and jealousy
I won't care about your plight.
Truth be told I respect your heritage
Don't want your club to die
But if that's the worst case scenario
I am not going to cry.

Dulwich Poet 24th December 2015

(I wrote this a couple of days before we play Kingstonian, a proud old club in the doldrums, some of their own making, some not. But their fans sneer at clubs like mine, who have worked hard to improve our attendances because many of our newer fans don't fit their 'mould' of a laddish working class male, who they think should make up football crowds...)

"Contendedly Bah Humbug"

I'm quite proud of my little flat
Even though it's a dump
Cos mine's got no Christmas Tree
Proud to be a grump.
I've got Metro's from last month
Not a Christmas card in sight
I prefer to be all alone
My perfect Silent Night.
If I'm really honest
It's the falseness I can't stand
All that shallow 'Merry Christmas'
Pretending to enjoy the Sally Army band.
Acting oh so caring
As we reach the end of the year
Just another excuse to pig out
Knocking back the beer.
Now there's nothing wrong with that
In it's only little way
But it's all that false jollity
Just because it's Christmas Day.
You call me a Grinch or Scrooge
Misery Guts and worse
To be honest I don't give a fuck
Which is why I'm doing this unfestive verse.
Why should I be nice because it's Christmas
Shouldn't we be nice all year round
Instead of just right now
Because you feel duty bound?
Thank you family for the invites
Apart from the food I'd be bored to tears
For me Christmas is an irrelevance
You should have learnt that down the years.
You all wear your Chrimbo jumpers
That make you look a tit
And thanks to all the once-a-year drinkers
Even going to the pub is shit.
In my own way I'm more than happy
As I keep my front door shut
It doesn't mean I'm lonely
Even though I'm stuck in a rut.
I'll still have a decent dinner
A tasty bit of roast chicken or beef
Feasting because I want to
Not in the name of mock-religious belief.
DVD's from chairty shops
See...I can do 'nice' too
Without having to pander
To the crazy consumerist zoo.
Do what you want on the 25th
Celebrate as you like
But don't dare moan at me for not taking part
On your fucking bike!
If you wish me a Merry Christmas
Sorry, I prefer my football Boxing Days
If you want to see a smile on my face
Come on Dulwich Hamlet and beat K's!

Dulwich Poet 23rd December 2015

(Another 'Christmas' poem...on Boxing Day this year Dulwich Hamlet are at home to Kingstonian)

"Say Cheese!"

That’s all they want you to do
Smile!
Because it’s Christmas…
Now call me old fashioned
If you must
It’s a bit of a  catchphrase
Of mine, actually
Even though
I’m not old fashioned
But why should I smile
Just because it’s Christmas?
I never wish you
A Merry Christmas  or
A Happy New Year anyway.
So tell me
Why should I smile
Just because
It’s bloody Christmas?
Something I don’t celebrate
Don’t enjoy
And don’t really like.
Smile?
Have you ever noticed
What a two and eight
My ‘ampsteads are in?
So don’t even go there
And say ‘Cheese!’
Cos I’ll be right fucking cheesed off.
We don’t all have to smile
To be happy.
And now
I’M NOT HAPPY
Because-
You tell me to smile.
Which means…
You have won.
I AM a miserable old git.
Are you happy now?

Bah fucking Humbug!

Dulwich Poet 23^rd December 2015

(No idea where this was going, just tried to do a poem about Christmas!)

"Could've been a Lion"

Is that a bandwagon?
Can't you hear the noise?
Time to pile down The New Den
We're all lifelong Millwall boys.
In the Tinpot Paintpot area final
Just one round from Wembley Way
Dreaming of another game under the Arch
South-east London going up north for the day.
Fifty thousand Lions at Wembley
It could be even more
All 'lifelong' supporters
Yes, you know the score.
They've always been Millwall
Stood on the 'Halfway Line'
Never missed a game at the old Den
Come rain or shine.
Been a fan for centuries
Millwall through and through
Just ain't been dahn there recently
But got a Lions tattoo.
I've never lied to you
Dulwich Hamlet are my side
Never been a proper Lion
Not really one of their pride.
In my younger days I was 'naughty'
Might've had a Bushwacking mate
Was one of many on the pitch at Luton
On that infamous FA Cup date.
Always had a soft spot for Millwall
But grateful I didn't stand on the C.B.L.
I'm certain my love of Dulwich Hamlet
Kept me out of a prison cell.
I had my hairy moments
Not just in a "Football Factory" adoring way
Having a tear-up at Millwall 
Wasn't just a game to play.
I've been on my toes at Reading
Chased by some nutter with an axe
Been separated at Cardiff City
Totally on my jacks.
Now i'm older and wiser
All that stuff's not for me
But I can't pretend to lie to you
I want see Millwall at Wem-ber-lee!
The difference is I know I'm part time
And that's stretching the term
Never been one to give it large
Pretending I'm one of the firm.
And if the worst comes to the worst
And 'we' lose to Oxford United
Well I've got mates who support them too
At least for them I'll be delighted!

Dulwich Poet 11th December 2015

( Millwall won at Southend United on Tuesday night, to reach the area final of the Johnson Paints Trophy, and now face Oxford United in a two-legged tie, to see who reaches the final at Wembley. I've a 'soft spot' for Millwall, as they are the local professional team for me; many of my old friends at school were Millwall fans, & I went there a few times in my younger days. Now I'm a 'one or two games a season' fairweather fan. But my first & only true football love has always been Dulwich Hamlet.)

"F.B.B."

I wonder where you were
When I was just a child
If you had been in existence
Would I have been so wild?
I was never good at football
But you would not have taken the mick
It's all about respect and self-worth
That's your mentoring trick.
I look at the work you do
Turning kids around
Without your helping hand
How many would have drowned?
It's taken me nigh on half a century
To feel I have some worth
Always felt angry & isolated
Almost right from birth.
Lucky never to have gone to prison
Fortunate to avoid inside
I hurt so many people
And within I've almost died.
Through my Club I can help F.B.B.
And play a tiny part
Atoning for my wasted life
For me that's a start.
Seeing all these youngsters growing
From young herberts into men
I'm not proud of all my past
I know what I was like back then.
Been nasty, beaten others
Some I've even strangled
As I grew a little older
Through alcohol I got mangled.
In these kids I see myself
As in what I might have been 
If there had been an F.B.B.
Back when I was a teen.
That's why I support them
At 'Cafe Football' all posh
Ordinary for the 'Corporates'
But for me it was fancy nosh.
That's down to my middle aged insecurity
Left over scars from my youth
Which is why I feel so uneasy
When I'm praised with the truth.
I envy these Football Beyond Borders teens
Changing their ways before it's too late
If a little of that can rub off on me
Maybe I'll believe and wipe my slate.

Dulwich Poet 26th November 2015

(I've just attended a fundraising dinner, in aid of the charity 'Football Beyond Borders', which does a lot of work with schoolchildren across South London, and I wrote this on the way home.)

"Bugger Bognor"

Some grounds are unlucky
We call it all a jinx
Just bad luck or not good enough
Despite what everyone thinks.
We tend to struggle at Bognor
That seems the rule of thumb
Which is why when you mention them
We come over all glum.
We did them in the play-offs
Having been 31 points behind
That was our best result
Apart from today when we shined.
Turning up in numbers
Two hundred fans or more
Business as usual one down
Facing the same old losing scoreline.
But today was different
A top-of-the-table title race
Time for a mighty Dulwich fightback
And putting Bognor firmly in their place.
Finishing three-two to The Hamlet
I had to wipe away a tear
Frightened that I might tempt fate
But feeling this could be our year. 
I'm used to disappointment 
Too many years of hurt
To claim we'll win the title
Not going to bet my shirt.
This year could be our destiny
Not been top of the League since forty nine
A number that also happens to be my age
A clutching-at-straws lucky sign....
No idea if this is our destiny
Or just my hope and dream
But if it really does happen
I'm not just going to beam.
For I will be be delirious
More emotional than you've ever seen
For if we're Isthmian League champions
I'll be leading the huge conga round Goose Green!

Dulwich Poet 21st November 2015

(I wrote this on the Supporters' coach home from Bognor Regis Town, where we won today. An amazing turnout from our fans, brilliant support, at a ground we rarely win at. [Goose Green is a local traffic roundabout in East Dulwich] )

"Silence goes Silent"

I'm so glad there's no Dulwich Hamlet tonight
For I didn't want to be at a game
I'd rather be at 'Silence Found A Tongue'
If it's all the same.
Much as I like my poetry
Football would have been my choice
Even if it's nights like this
That give me confidence and a voice.
Despite the T-shirt that tells us
It's fucking poetry you hate
This is one of the Open Mic nights
For which I genuinely can't wait.
I really am gutted
When I miss it for a match
Not least 'cos it's South of the River
And this is my poetry patch.
I'm made welcome by Lizzie
Whose voice is more upstairs than down
But despite her posh accent
She's no toffee nosed lah-di-dah clown.
I'm old fashioned old school who judges people
On how they say their aitches and t's
If you speak posh and use fancy words
I tend to intellectually freeze.
That's why I love this night
Her and David are chalk and cheese
She got the superior posh voice
But it kind of puts me at ease.
He is the rude one
to which I can relate
The rude of fuck, bollocks and cunt
I learnt on my childhood Council estate.
He's a man after my own heart
Football, double pie & mash
No doubt if I were still drinking
We'd go out on the lash.
I thank you for making me welcome
I call you both a poetry friend
I really am gutted
'Silence Found A Tongue' is about to end.
I've always loved coming here
And not just because it's free
You're not ripped off rotten at the bar
Even for a cup of tea.
Poetry can be expensive
When you ain't got a pot in which to piss
I'm sure there's a lot of us out there
Who aren't flush so give it a miss.
Another think I love about here
Is that you can read whatever you write
None of that Slam-type formula
And no clicking fingers all night.
There's no one way of doing things
At 'Silence Found A Tongue'
Read or perform whatever you like
Exercising your mind and lung.
I can't believe it's all over
So thanks to Lizzie and David for letting me read
I just hope you find your 'Tongue' again
Do some more nights is all I plead.

Dulwich Poet 17th November 2015

(Tonight is the last evening of a monthly poetry event called 'Silence Found A Tongue'. It's a night I went to fairly often and one I really enjoyed. I've written this to read in my small Open Mic slot to thank them tonight.)

"Initial Reaction"

The world has gone crazy
It really is 'What the fuck?'
How long before it's back to London
And down to 'Lady Luck?'
I've not got any answers
So many questions in my head
I'm not going to be an apologist
With all those maimed and dead.
There have been too many 'wrong' wars
But that's not to reason why
There really are no excuses
As to why so many die.
You might compare to thousands of civilians
Killed in Syria and elsewhere
You can try the 'blame game'
I really don't care.
You condemn these atrocities
Then chuck in a 'but' at the end
As if you're giving them a reason
Which I cannot comprehend.
I might call myself a 'Leftie'
But I'd wipe 'ISIS' off the map
And if that doesn't fit your 'ideology' 
I don't give a crap.
Take as an example
The one called 'Jihadi John'
It brought a right smile to my face
When I heard he'd been 'vapourised' and gone!
As for that British soldier
The one that's sent to jail
Don't get me wrong he's no hero
But the sentence is beyond the pale.
Shooting dead the enemy
It's what happens if you crack in war
Don't pretend we didn't bump off Germans
I think you know the score.
Not supporting cold blooded murder
But combat fucks your head
The bottom line was only terrorist scum
Ended up on the floor dead.
If he'd bumped off innocent civilians
I could understand a prison cell
But who are we to condemn the solider
When we've not gone through his hell?
My thoughts this morning with Paris
On what happened too scared to dwell
I fear for all the reactions
Only time will tell.
Demonising muslims and immigrants
Is all part of their aim
Don't fall for this 'ISIS' con
You will be playing their game.
For me, as a non-religious person
I won't defend muslim belief
But I still won't tar them all the same
Which you might think is a relief.
I'm against most religions
No matter 'nice' things they may say
When many treat women as second class
And hate me because I'm gay.
So don't accuse me of being islamophobic
I treat all religion the same
If you discriminate against me
Then to me you're all fair game.

Dulwich Poet 14th November 2015

(I wrote this a few hours after the Paris atrocities... it's a bit of garbled message, but basically says those who are committing these killings are scum, and there is no excuse for their actions, no matter how much 'wrong' the 'West' may have done around the globe.)

"Each To Their Own"

We've all got strange quirky hobbies
Pray tell what is it you do?
Do you have a love of animals
And can't resist a zoo.
Perhaps you're nerdy old fashioned
Call yourself a trainspotter
Or keep on writing poetry
Scribbled down in a jotter.
Maybe you're a stamp collector
The Stanley Gibbons is your bible
Then there's the old skool football hooligan 
Who likes his hobby tribal.
Are you one to collect pottery
A big fan of Royal Doulton
Or whisper it quietly like me
A groundhopper at Alton?
For tonight I was down in Hampshire
Watching a game at step six
Alton Town at home to Fleet Spurs
That's how I get my kicks.
Train pulling into the station
Floodlights shine on my right
My heart is really pumping
Pylons do that at first sight.
I've got a rare free Tuesday
No Dulwich Hamlet this week
And Alton are soon moving
So their 'old' ground I can seek.
Non-League wise it's nothing special
But oh that wooden stand
It's what they call groundhopping porn
Atcost monstrosities should be banned.
New-builds are oh so samey
All tip-up seats and steel
You can feel the past in these wooden benches
Forgotten history becoming real.
I am so glad I got here
The football's almost incidental
Ok, I admit I love visiting football grounds
Which doesn't mean I'm totally mental.
I'm not a serious groundhopper
Abiding by every 'rule and regulation'
I'm not going to travel two hundred miles
To stand in fields up and down the nation.
I do prefer a programme
But not essential at the end of the day
I'm not bothered if it's just a friendly
As long as there's two sides to play.
And nor will I get upset
If nil nil's the score
Certainly not so desperate for the line-ups
By battering on the referee's door!
I don't do drugs or alcohol
This is my fix and buzz
The bottom line is does it matter
What anyone says or does?
So I'll admit...I'm a bit of a groundhopper
And tonight was really fun
Wessex League Division One football
Ticking ground number six hundred and sixty one.

Dulwich Poet 10th November 2015


( I wrote this on the train home, after going to Alton Town 0, Fleet Spurs 2...the only reason I went to the game was because Alton are moving ground imminently , & I hadn't been there before.)

"Shelter"

I bet you wouldn't touch it
With that proverbial barge pole
A Christian hostel called 'Shelter'
What an awful hole.
True, there's no big parties
But nothing could be further from the truth
In fact you won't find friendlier
Than the staff under their roof. 
And despite the fact they're religious
They certainly don't preach
Though if believing in 'god' is your thing
He's certainly within reach.
The showers and rooms were the cleanest
And the place was secure
A spot that was affordable
With 24-hour staff on the door.
A small snack for breakfast
With free internet to peruse
And for those with modern gadgets
You've got their wi-fi to use. 
Les than ten minutes from the station
Handy for the sights
And because they don't allow alcohol
It was relatively peaceful at nights.
When I go back to The 'Dam next year
It's to this hostel I will return
It's ticks all the boxes for me
When you haven't got money to burn.

Dulwich Poet 30th October 2015


(On my recent trip to Amsterdam I stayed in a 'backpackers hostel; in was actually a drug & alcohol free one, that is a Christian run one, called 'Shelter'. I didn't stay there for that, but more for easy location to the main train station. But this is about that hostel..)

"Missed You"

I've decided....
Tomorrow I'm going to see you
It's been a month or more
It's live we've never been apart
When I push open your door.
You're certainly not the biggest
In fact some might say quite small
But size isn't everything
On the 5th floor of the Festival Hall.
For I'm talking about the Poetry Library
Where my books are overdue
Don't know if you've noticed 
But I really have missed you. 
Gently working my way along your shelves
Eyeing up each and every cover
I don't know if there's such a thing
But you're my secret literary lover.
I don't visit as much as I used to
But I still like to look
Sitting down with your pamphlets
I can read you like a book.
People talk of hidden gems
Well you're the jewel in London's crown 
And even though I'm fine today
You're a great 'pick-me-up' when feeling down.
As the song goes: "You're the Pride of South London"
Even though you're not Pink & Blue
So I'll meet you after work tomorrow night
If you forgive me for neglecting you.

Dulwich Poet 30th October 2015


(It's been a while since I've visited the Poetry Library, at the Festival Hall...and I love going there. I support Dulwich Hamlet Football Club, and our colours are pink and blue)

"The Future"

Just come through the Channel Tunnel
Back in Blighty on the last leg
Returning to the same old existence
Though I'm not really a bad egg.
I'll get off the coach at Victoria
Take a train home to my pit
The normality of my non-existence
Reality of life being shit.
I think next year will be crucial
As I reach the age of the BIG five oh...
Time for me to make some decisions
And decide how I want my life to go.
Even though I'm single
As I will be for evermore
I'm 'married' to Dulwich Hamlet
I think you know the score.
But holiday trips make me realise
How many things I want to do
I never really think of myself
But of my Club and you.
Far too many people call me 'Mr. Dulwich'
Worn like a ball and chain
Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment
But I don't want to hear it again.
I'm simply one fan of many
Who's been lucky to serve his club
But sometimes it's a millstone
And therein lies the rub.
Don't get me wrong I love Dulwich Hamlet
They'll always be in my heart
But I'm not getting any younger
And I wouldn't mind some time apart.
So many places I've not been to
Lots of grounds I want to see
I wonder if I'll have the strength  to break away 
And just do something for me?
I don't mean gone forever
Just a few games here and there
Travelling when I can afford to
Whatever appeals when & where.
Not having to worry about the Committee
Programme, website or '50/50 Draw'
Turning up at a game when I choose
Only concern being the final score. 
Leaving the 'new-veau' Rabble to sing what they like
Having their bit of fun
The bottom line is just another supporter
When all is said and done.

Dulwich Poet 30th October 2015

(Whilst I love everything I do for Dulwich Hamlet Football Club, I am getting to the stage where I'd like to step back and have more time for other things in life...don't worry, it will pass!)

"Anywhere But Home"

I must have seemed like an old curmudgeon
As people said 'Happy Birthday'
And also shook my hand...
But if I had my own way
That celebration would be banned.
Don't get me wrong
I don't mean for you
It's just something I don't enjoy
A reminder of forty-nine years of failure
My entire life man and boy.
That's why I go on a break
Anywhere but home
Even though I travel cheaply
It give me a chance to roam.
Every time I take a step forward
It follows there's two steps back
Going away and hiding
Gives me escapism and pleasure I lack.
Just camera, notebook and pen for company
I don't need money in the bank
Loneliness can be coped with
Thanks to an anonymous foreign 
Sex cinema wank!
Riding a tram round a strange town
Going to visit a football ground
They say money can't buy you happiness 
But this only costs a few pound.
Living out of supermarkets
And football food at night
The anticipatory buzz of finding the stadium
Spotting floodlights love at first sight!
I've said many a time I'd be dead by now
If I hadn't given up the drink
Despite it being over thirteen years
It's not as easy as you think.
On Monday night I walked the streets
Of dirty old Amsterdam city
Strolling past untold bars
I could have welled with pity.
Sure, it can get a little lonely
Wandering round on your Jacks
But then I stand back and observe
All those pisshead groups in packs.
My life may not seem normal
But i'm proud that I don't drink
There's many alcoholics, my dad included
Who couldn't pull themselves from the brink.
I don't go way to celebrate my birthday 
Or run away from all that palarva
In truth it's to pat myself on the back
For not ending up in a morgue like my father.

Dulwich Poet 30th October 2015

(This is about me choosing to take a holiday each year when it is my birthday. I am not a 'birthday' person)

"So Much For Progress!"

Beggars can't be choosers
I'm using Megabus for price
But Jesus Christ I'm baking
Going under the Tunnel ain't nice.
It really is a sweatbox
Not enough to make blokes strip
Even though it's hot enough to
There's no perks on this trip!
No power on the coach
Just dim light from the train ..
Even though I probably will
I don't want to do this again.
I'm pining for the big ships
When you can stroll around the deck
I'm wouldn't have had this problem
If my birthday holiday was Czech!

Dulwich Poet 30th October 2015

(This one is about being on a coach under the Channel!)

"Snapping"

I know nothing about photography
I just 'Point and Press'
Posh cameras are a mystery
I would only hazard a guess.
I'm happy with my 'digital box brownies'
Hardly top of the range
Even if I had money
I'm not one for change.
I love being a 'Bill-No-Mates'
Wandering strange streets snapping
You won't realise I'm doing it
A million miles from papping.
They're often out of focus
Too rush and zoomed to be any good
I just snap what I think might make a picture
From wherever I am stood.
I won't even pretend to be decent
Let me make that plain
Street Photography's just something I enjoy
In my attempts keeping sane. 
I love my poetry and pictures
Know my limits...run of the mill
To use a poncy phrase for my 'well being'
That's where they fit the bill.
Doing things that give me pleasure
A sense of 'I can achieve'
Realising I'm not as useless as I think
It's not always easy to self believe.
So no matter how basic
Or simple is your dream
None of us are useless
It's not as bad as things seem.
I never imagined some would like my pictures
Never mind me performing at a poetry night
As I say, my life's not perfect
But you know what-I'm doing alright!

Dulwich Poet 30th October 2015

(Just about taking random pictures...and writing poetry!)

"What Are Ya?"

Haiku's are the thing
Some sort of a formula
Who the fuck's counting?

Dulwich Poet 30th October 2015

(A poetry friend of mine has been publishing a lot of poems called Haiku's on her page. This is for her...)

"Moan Bloody Moan"

25 minutes for boarding
Eurotunnel apologise for the delay
Does anyone really believe
A word that their signs say?
Actually I'm not bothered
I don't know what time our crossing is
But all this mock-sincerity
What a fucking swizz!
At least they're not like the Underground
Who boast of 'a good service today'
As if it's something special 
Rather than what we expect when we pay!
I know some say I'm a moaner
Or even a miserable old git
But let's all have some honesty
And admit when the service is shit.
We're just captive audience commuter fodder
With no other way to work
Being patronised over the speakers
Taken for a total jerk.
The worst thing is the accents
A fake Jamaican or Cockney sound
As if they understand and we're as one
Dear old London Underground.
I dread to think what will happen
When this twenty four hour tube begins to run
Perhaps they can explain to me
When the maintenance will get done?
Pretending it's for night workers and clubbers
Needed to make our city tick
Well we've managed so far without it
Boris is such a prick!
Thank you to the Unions
Gawd bless the R.M.T.
Protecting the interests of their members
While caring for passengers like me.

Dulwich Poet 30th October 2015

(This one is a good example of a poem by me, where I don't know where it will go! I wrote it after an electronic notice said that we would have to wait 25 minutes for our coach to board a Eurotunnel train, and it got me thinking about 'announcements')

" It's Not The Same"

First time I went abroad
Was with the 8th Camberwell Cub Scouts
It was about 1975
There or thereabouts.
For me it seemed so exotic
Going to Boulogne-sur-Mer
For most it was nothing special
But I didn't really care.
It was such an adventure
Going across the Channel in a ship
Not that I can really remember
Bet the night before I had no kip.
Forty years later
You can't hear the sea or a sound
Would you Adam & Eve it
A coach on a train underground!
They call it the Channel Tunnel
An amazing engineering feat
But no matter how impressive
I feel it's a bit of a cheat.
There's still that little kid inside me
Who get a thrill of going on a boat
Gazing at the White Cliffs of Dover
From up deck on my coat.
The town itself may be a shithole 
But those cliffs mean that you're home
A legacy left by Vera Lynn
Wherever you may roam.

Dulwich Poet 30th Octoboer 2015

( I wrote this after coming back across the Channel on a coach through the tunnel, and not the more usual coach route of boat)

"Just A Return To..."

I can't believe I'm so polite
It's because I'm abroad
Cos if this was Blighty
I'd be ranting rest assured!
We're queuing to buy tickets
That's ALL you have to do
Not dither planning your journey
I want to turn the air blue.
I've no idea what you're speaking
Probably double bloody Dutch
The line's building behind me
They don't seem to care much.
Th locals behind seem so British
A few tuts and a mutter
Having to bite my tongue
Wanting to explode and splutter.
Good job I'm not in a rush
I'd be going mental if that was the case
I'd tell her to get a move on
Right in her fucking face!
The long queue to my left
All served and got their trains for sure
I'm still waiting like a lemon
Been here for ten minutes and more!
Finally sh'es finished
I get my ticket and go
Down to information booths on the concourse
I can check my times below.
And would you Adam & Eve it
She's also at that too!
I wait for the other window
I know how long she'll take
Earwigging while I'm waiting
She's English for fuck sake!
Now I'm really fuming 
Gloves about to come off
No beating about the bush
None of that 'excuse me' with a polite cough.
My platform inquiry takes thirty seconds
Then I tap her on the shoulder
Not bothering about the 'audience'
Anger starting to smoulder.

"You've been fucking about for five minutes
After talking bollocks for a quarter of an hour up top..
Why don't you just FUCK OFF
And stop giving us English a bad name
You fucking stupid cow?"

Now I know that wasn't my usual poetry
'Cos it didn't sort of rhyme
But hand on my honest heart
It's what I said at the time.
All those waiting behind me
I could see they understood the lingo
Smiles breaking out on their faces
As if they'd won a line at the bingo.
The old bat seemed a bit shocked
Her colour seemed to drain
Like I was fucking bovvered
Dashing off to make my train.

Dulwich Poet 30th October 2015

(I was stuck in a queue at Amsterdam Centraal station, waiting to buy a ticket. One old lady was taking ages, asking all sorts of questions...when all she had to do was buy a bloody ticket! In the end I had a bit of moan to her face....in my usual 'diplomatic' style.)

"Nosey Cunt"

I'm writing this on a coach
Sort of as a test
If you want to look over my shoulder & read it
Go on...be my guest.
I know nothing at all about you
For all I know you're a half-decent chap
But I know you're a nosey fucker
To peek at my poetry crap.
I turn to look toward you
And you glance sharply ahead
Are you pretending not to be nosey
Or is it being caught that you dread?
So go on ..be a good boy
And go back to that headphones contraption on your head
Best not to piss me off son
In case I start to see red.

Dulwich Poet 30th October 2015

(I wrote this on the long coach journey home, from Amsterdam to London. The bloke next to me kept on looking at what I was writing. So when I finished the poem I was doing..I decided to wind him up, and scribbled this one down...)

"Culture Vulture"

It's amazing how much we take for granted
Museums that are free
Hardly ever visiting
When there's so much to see.
From the British Museum to the Science 
National Gallery to the Tate
If you can't get time off work
Some even stay open late.
Unexplored palaces
All with an open door
Welcoming the working classes
And the uneducated poor.
You might think they're just for tourists
And pram pushing yummy mummies
But knowledge brings us power
So don't be taken for dummies.
Broaden your horizons
Educate your mind
Take time out to visit one 
You'll be surprised what you find.
You never realise what you have
Until it's there no more 
How long before they bring back paying
Another Tory tax on the poor.
They think education & art's a luxury
Not for the likes of you or me
Well soon it bloody won't be
If they decide it's no longer free.
The beauty of not charging
Is you can dip in when you like
When you wouldn't bother for a tenner
At that price take a hike.
The best thing about our museums
Is popping in & out as you choose
That ability to stop for half an hour
What have you got to lose?
So next time when you're up town
Don't dash off for your train
Treat yourself to a free attraction
And stimulate your brain.

Dulwich Poet 30th October 2015

(Not sure what this one is really...the idea was a 'moan' about the cost of museums abroad, But it turned into an appreciation  of our free museums, and how we 'neglect' visiting them generally, as Londoners in our own city.)

"Spoiler Alert"

Just stop moaning
About this line being so long
Go and chill out
Enjoy a spliff or a bong.
You're on holiday
So find something better to do
Than being stuck
In this godforsaken queue.
You're wasting your time
Stood here static
She's not even at home
They found her in the attic!

Dulwich Poet 25th October 2015

(I wrote this, while briefly toying whether to join a long queue at the Anne Frank House, in Amsterdam. I decided to leave it for another day, as I was dashing off to Arnhem to watch football)

"Happy Birthday To Me"

Running late
But bang on time
Stop yer panic
All is fine.
Megabus- mega queue!
Now all checked in
But what a zoo.
People impatient
A push and a shove
Where's your manners
No 'Excuse me, Guv!'
But never mind
I'm sat on my seat
Here begins...
My Birthday treat!
Now forty nine 
I'm getting old
Just another day 
If the truth be told.
It's just a reminder
My life's been shit
This is an excuse
To get out of my pit.
And as birthdays go
I'm not feeling sad
Football wise
It's not been bad.
That's understated
By a proverbial mile
A lovely inner glow
With a constant smile.
Winning two one at Canvey
To go top of the table
Maybe that Championship dream
Isn't that unattainable.
And for those 'football bonuses' 
Millwall won at Sheffield United
With those Thugs & Muggers losing 
T*****g always blighted!
Fuck all cards and presents
Which suits me fine
I'm just happy for Dulwich top of the table
On the day I turned forty nine.

Dulwich Poet 24th October 2015

(Every year, since I've been sober, I've gone away on my 'real' birthday, following my first 'sober' birthday. This year was unusual, because I travelled on the evening of my birthday, so had to suffer people wishing me 'happy birthday', but I took great delight in the Hamlet winning & going top, for a perfect present!I wrote this on the Megabus all-night coach trip to Amsterdam that night.)

"Off You Get"

Reasoning.
Blagging.
Bullshit.
Call it what
You like.
It's late.
I want to get home.
And so does
The rst of the bus.
So get off.
Fuck off.
Show me the way
To go home.
I'd better not
Miss my train.
Lip synching
Hard done by
Muttering
Through the window.
I would say
"Shut it cunt!"
But I can't hear you
As I'm on the bus
And you're not.
So you're just a
CUNT!
Don't spare the horses driver!

Dulwich Poet 10th October 2015

(I wrote this one on a bus, after someone tried to get on the bus without their pass. The driver refused to move the bus until they got off.)

"Great Men are the Humblest"

It all seemed far too clinically clean
Newly built spick and span
But I didn't come for the surroundings
I came to say goodbye to a great man.
Nearly three decades since you left London
But you never lost your love
I don't believe in 'heaven'
But if there is you'll be watching from above.
Chinwagging with the spirits of old mates
With who you used to stand around the ground
Still cheering on The Hamlet
Though we won't hear you make a sound.
I hope this doesn't sound morbid
For it's not what I mean to do
But I'd love to have peeked in your coffin
To have one last look at you.
When it comes to my time
Which I hope isn't for quite a while
I want to wear full Dulwich kit like you
Even in death you had quality and style.
You had such a good innings
Making it to ninety three
Even at such a grand age
It's The Hamlet you wanted to see.
In those rare games that you got to
There was that magical twinkle in your eye
That old football song was never truer
You really were Dulwich til you die.
Such a humble man
Keeping quiet about the War
Lying about your age and such long service
I dread to think of the horrors you saw.
Coming home & settling in Camberwell
Finding yourself a wonderful wife
Discovering another love for your local Club
Decades later you came into my life.
Truth is I didn't really know you
Apart from our love of Pink and Blue
But your genuine warm heart
Embraced everyone you knew.
We were from different generations
But I'm so glad we met
Despite years away from our South London
The Hamlet you'd never forget.
Come each and every Saturday
You'd be desperate for Malcolm's text
If the result didn't go our way
It was time to get vexed!
But there was still that hope and optimism
Passed down from father to son
Even if we lost this week
There was always the next to be won.
You had a love for Dulwich Hamlet
A win would always hide our strife
That's what supporting our boys did for us
Giving us so much pleasure in life.
Having known you and your family
Truly fills me with pride
It's been a pleasure to share the terraces with you
We'll forever be side by side.

Dulwich Poet 10th October 2015



(Yesterday I was lucky enough to be at the funeral of a 93-year-old Hamlet fan...this is for Ivor Bateman RIP)