Have you ever
Thought about
Living forever?
Well it ain't
Gonna happen!
Unless....
You're The Beatles
Perhaps as...
Not sure about them
It's 50/50 really.
Forever?
Who else?
Maybe The Invincibles
Arsene Wenger's boys?
Then there is
Jesus Christ himself.
Though even he
Popped his clogs
For three days.
You know what-
Maybe I don't want
To live forever
After all.
And once I'm gone
There's not much
To remember me by.
I'll soon be forgotten
On the Champion Hill terraces.
A groundhopper
Once called me
"The Doyen of Dulwich"
I realised I wasn't
Once I'd looked up
Doyen in the dictionary.
If I really do want
My name to live forever
Maybe I should just
Cheat a little bit
And change my name
By deed poll
To Edgar Kail.
And if you don't know
Who he is:
Shame on you!
Haven't you heard of Google?
Dulwich Poet 18th January 2015
( I saw a poem about living forever in a poetry magazine I was flicking through in the 'Poetry Library' earlier. So I scribbled this down...)
Sunday 18 January 2015
Tuesday 13 January 2015
"Done In A Flash"
Everyone's supposed to have
Their fifteen minutes of fame.
No need to be greedy.
A mere fifteen seconds
Is good enough for me.
That's the beauty of poetry.
Dulwich Poet 12th January 2015.
(I was at a poetry Open Mic last night, and there was a bloke there asking for fifteen seconds of poetry, either part of a poem, or a poem, to film for some sort of documentary project he's doing. I wrote this one.)
Their fifteen minutes of fame.
No need to be greedy.
A mere fifteen seconds
Is good enough for me.
That's the beauty of poetry.
Dulwich Poet 12th January 2015.
(I was at a poetry Open Mic last night, and there was a bloke there asking for fifteen seconds of poetry, either part of a poem, or a poem, to film for some sort of documentary project he's doing. I wrote this one.)
Monday 12 January 2015
"Bit of a Charlie"
The whole world says "Je Suis Charlie"
But sorry I am not
Please bear with me
I haven't lost the plot.
There's no way I'm defending the gunmen
The lowest of the low
But going marching on the streets
What does it really show?
The politicians at the front for the cameras
Linked together arm-in-arm
The power of a big march
Turning on the grieving charm.
The power of the millions
Marching on the street
Surely the masses will be listened to
Turning on the heat.
Oh such selective memories
What about when we marched to Stop The War?
Or working class communities
Fighting Tory attacks on the poor?
As for Monsieur Je Suis Charlie
Well I don't mean to be cruel
But he really was a provocative plank
Being such a fool.
The pen might be mightier than the sword
But it can't compete with a gun
No matter how outrageous this slaughter
He's to blame for what's been done.
I'm NOT condoning murder
Or any others attacked
But for a so-called clever journalist
It was basic common sense he lacked.
I've got not truck with Islam
In fact no religions at all
But his lack of that common sense
Was enough to appaul.
I don't pretend to understand the Koran
Or any other religious book
But even I know what's a 'no-no'
Though I've not had a look.
Some insults you should never do
Like draw that prophet's face
I know you didn't deserve to die for it
But your stupidity was a disgrace.
If it was only you in danger
Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad
But with all those others murdered
It's an understatement to call you a cad.
While I won't make excuses for Paris outrages
Truth is Charlie you were a a fool
In fact Charlie you were a 'charlie'
A complete and utter tool!
Dulwich Poet 12th January 2015
(This is about the huge demonstrations against the terrorist killings in France. Whilst I support them, and am totally against the killings, part of me feels that it's hypocritical of our main Western leaders to support some marches, after they &/or their predicessors ignored similar huge ones, against Wars in the past. And I am also not entirely happy with the 'sympathy' for the cartoonist, who should be able to draw the prophet Mohammed, in an 'ideal world', what that may mean, but basic common sense tells you it is offensive not just to 'ordinary muslims' to do so, but will, and indeed was, the proverbial 'red rag to a bull' to the terrorists)
But sorry I am not
Please bear with me
I haven't lost the plot.
There's no way I'm defending the gunmen
The lowest of the low
But going marching on the streets
What does it really show?
The politicians at the front for the cameras
Linked together arm-in-arm
The power of a big march
Turning on the grieving charm.
The power of the millions
Marching on the street
Surely the masses will be listened to
Turning on the heat.
Oh such selective memories
What about when we marched to Stop The War?
Or working class communities
Fighting Tory attacks on the poor?
As for Monsieur Je Suis Charlie
Well I don't mean to be cruel
But he really was a provocative plank
Being such a fool.
The pen might be mightier than the sword
But it can't compete with a gun
No matter how outrageous this slaughter
He's to blame for what's been done.
I'm NOT condoning murder
Or any others attacked
But for a so-called clever journalist
It was basic common sense he lacked.
I've got not truck with Islam
In fact no religions at all
But his lack of that common sense
Was enough to appaul.
I don't pretend to understand the Koran
Or any other religious book
But even I know what's a 'no-no'
Though I've not had a look.
Some insults you should never do
Like draw that prophet's face
I know you didn't deserve to die for it
But your stupidity was a disgrace.
If it was only you in danger
Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad
But with all those others murdered
It's an understatement to call you a cad.
While I won't make excuses for Paris outrages
Truth is Charlie you were a a fool
In fact Charlie you were a 'charlie'
A complete and utter tool!
Dulwich Poet 12th January 2015
(This is about the huge demonstrations against the terrorist killings in France. Whilst I support them, and am totally against the killings, part of me feels that it's hypocritical of our main Western leaders to support some marches, after they &/or their predicessors ignored similar huge ones, against Wars in the past. And I am also not entirely happy with the 'sympathy' for the cartoonist, who should be able to draw the prophet Mohammed, in an 'ideal world', what that may mean, but basic common sense tells you it is offensive not just to 'ordinary muslims' to do so, but will, and indeed was, the proverbial 'red rag to a bull' to the terrorists)
Monday 5 January 2015
"Not so 'appy 'ammers!"
If you're going to get turned over
Be taken for a ride
Hand on heart I've got to tell you
It couldn't happen to a better side!
Along comes a dodgy geezer
To the West Ham training ground
Millionaire football boys
Desperate to save a few pound.
It's a shame the gaffers' no longer 'onest 'arry
He'd have known how to spot a spiv
For sure he'd have recognised the scam
And told you not to give!
Dulwich Poet 4th January 2015
(On January 1st it was reported that West Ham United player Andy Carrol, and their manager Sam Allardyce, had fallen for a classic 'round the corner sting' when offered some cut-price Fortnum & Mason hampers & Harrods champagne, which never materialised after they'd handed over thousands of pounds)
Be taken for a ride
Hand on heart I've got to tell you
It couldn't happen to a better side!
Along comes a dodgy geezer
To the West Ham training ground
Millionaire football boys
Desperate to save a few pound.
It's a shame the gaffers' no longer 'onest 'arry
He'd have known how to spot a spiv
For sure he'd have recognised the scam
And told you not to give!
Dulwich Poet 4th January 2015
(On January 1st it was reported that West Ham United player Andy Carrol, and their manager Sam Allardyce, had fallen for a classic 'round the corner sting' when offered some cut-price Fortnum & Mason hampers & Harrods champagne, which never materialised after they'd handed over thousands of pounds)
Sunday 4 January 2015
"To The Future"
We're supposed to have hopes and ambitions
Through our exciting defining early years
Now I'm in my late forties sat in a laundrette
Regretting all my fears.
I was scared of being a poofter
Ostracised, beaten up or worse
Instead of being happy
I felt being gay was a curse.
Outwardly I gave the appearance of 'normal'
Though maybe a tad strange in the head
If only people had realised
How fucked up inside I was
And would rather have been dead.
Now that most of my life has gone
I'm only starting in ME to believe
Nothing massive just little things
But from within I can achieve.
Occasionally something goes right
And I get a bit of praise
Something that's so natural
But I struggle to cope on those days.
For I'm used to feeling a failure
The worst runt of the litter
So many negative thoughts in my head
Fighting the ease of being bitter.
Truth is I'm scared of failure
Which has been the story of my life
And when people say to me "well done"
It cuts me like a knife.
It's something I'm not used to
An ordinary pat on the back
I'm used to feeling worthless
How to enjoy praise I lack.
My entire life has been an existence
Rather than a joy
Always letting friends and family down
Walking disaster man and boy.
Now when I take a pigeon step forward
And have done something that's fun
I expect the psotive to come crashing down
And back to shitty old square one.
So many mistakes I've made
I don't want a life full of regret
What I should really be saying
Is maybe, just maybe,
There's something in me yet.
Somehow I've got to be positive
And accept what I have got
The last 48 years are in the past
Time to leave the negatives to rot.
In the past whatever's been wrong
Well I can't turn wrong into right
I realise I've been no angel
But I'm sick of a lonely cry at night.
Just a cuddly toy for company
Which isn't that bad a curse
For in the last couple of years I've been lucky
And discovered the comfort of rhyme and verse.
Maybe what I'm trying to tell myself
Is that it's not too late to smile
And it's actually not such a terrible thing
To feel proud of yourself once in a while.
Dulwich Poet 4th January 2015
(This one is about my lack of confidence, and that I feel I've achieved nothing with my life; but also that I would like to try to turn things round, while there's still time.)
Through our exciting defining early years
Now I'm in my late forties sat in a laundrette
Regretting all my fears.
I was scared of being a poofter
Ostracised, beaten up or worse
Instead of being happy
I felt being gay was a curse.
Outwardly I gave the appearance of 'normal'
Though maybe a tad strange in the head
If only people had realised
How fucked up inside I was
And would rather have been dead.
Now that most of my life has gone
I'm only starting in ME to believe
Nothing massive just little things
But from within I can achieve.
Occasionally something goes right
And I get a bit of praise
Something that's so natural
But I struggle to cope on those days.
For I'm used to feeling a failure
The worst runt of the litter
So many negative thoughts in my head
Fighting the ease of being bitter.
Truth is I'm scared of failure
Which has been the story of my life
And when people say to me "well done"
It cuts me like a knife.
It's something I'm not used to
An ordinary pat on the back
I'm used to feeling worthless
How to enjoy praise I lack.
My entire life has been an existence
Rather than a joy
Always letting friends and family down
Walking disaster man and boy.
Now when I take a pigeon step forward
And have done something that's fun
I expect the psotive to come crashing down
And back to shitty old square one.
So many mistakes I've made
I don't want a life full of regret
What I should really be saying
Is maybe, just maybe,
There's something in me yet.
Somehow I've got to be positive
And accept what I have got
The last 48 years are in the past
Time to leave the negatives to rot.
In the past whatever's been wrong
Well I can't turn wrong into right
I realise I've been no angel
But I'm sick of a lonely cry at night.
Just a cuddly toy for company
Which isn't that bad a curse
For in the last couple of years I've been lucky
And discovered the comfort of rhyme and verse.
Maybe what I'm trying to tell myself
Is that it's not too late to smile
And it's actually not such a terrible thing
To feel proud of yourself once in a while.
Dulwich Poet 4th January 2015
(This one is about my lack of confidence, and that I feel I've achieved nothing with my life; but also that I would like to try to turn things round, while there's still time.)
"Sending A Message"
Labour funded by the unions
Tories on the attack
All the time deflecting from their corporate cronies
Taking all the flack.
That will never happen though
They hide their donors well
Bashing our trade unions
To hide their rotten smell.
As if them dominating the billboards
Isn't bad enough
We've got to suffer press barons
Spreading their lies and guff.
In elections you're supposed to start equal
A level playing field
But the Tories are halfway up the pitch
Thanks to their gentrified well-heeled.
They're going to have more posters
Time for us to fight back
Old fashioned ammunition
We're going on the attack.
Time to choose our weapons
We must grab those brushes and paint
Cos if Cameron's not playing fairly
Then I certainly ain't!
Dulwich Poet 4th January 2015
(The Conservatives have just released their first post for the pre-election billboards, and their spending will beat the Labour Party budget, by three to one.)
Tories on the attack
All the time deflecting from their corporate cronies
Taking all the flack.
That will never happen though
They hide their donors well
Bashing our trade unions
To hide their rotten smell.
As if them dominating the billboards
Isn't bad enough
We've got to suffer press barons
Spreading their lies and guff.
In elections you're supposed to start equal
A level playing field
But the Tories are halfway up the pitch
Thanks to their gentrified well-heeled.
They're going to have more posters
Time for us to fight back
Old fashioned ammunition
We're going on the attack.
Time to choose our weapons
We must grab those brushes and paint
Cos if Cameron's not playing fairly
Then I certainly ain't!
Dulwich Poet 4th January 2015
(The Conservatives have just released their first post for the pre-election billboards, and their spending will beat the Labour Party budget, by three to one.)
" Mug's Game"
You're supposed to be the Man of the People
The Labour man at the top
But what you did down in Deal
Shows why you're such a flop.
Where I come from a pub's not a toilet
Just somewhere for a wee
But I'm an ordinary geezer
That's the difference between you and me.
Even if you weren't thirsty
You should have stayed for a half
Chatted to the landlord
Tried to have a laugh.
Apparently it's in 'enemy country'
Where they laud that clown Farage
But even he knows the score
Holding up a pint & giving it large.
Perhaps you're not used to 'chewing the fat'
With ordinary people in pubs
More suited to your own type and class
In your Westminster bars and clubs.
Time to work with your spin doctors
And learn how to work a photo op
It's why Farage is more popular than you
Even though his policies are no cop.
You need to travel the country
Listen to the working classes in the street
Otherwise you'll never reach Number Ten
And Cameron and Co. will have us beat.
Dulwich Poet 4th January 2015
(A newspaper report said that Ed Milliband, leader of the Labour Party, was on a private stroll on the Kent Coast, and popped into a pub to use the toilet, but didn't stop to buy a drink. And that the UKIP leader Farage has popped in there for a pint several times.)
The Labour man at the top
But what you did down in Deal
Shows why you're such a flop.
Where I come from a pub's not a toilet
Just somewhere for a wee
But I'm an ordinary geezer
That's the difference between you and me.
Even if you weren't thirsty
You should have stayed for a half
Chatted to the landlord
Tried to have a laugh.
Apparently it's in 'enemy country'
Where they laud that clown Farage
But even he knows the score
Holding up a pint & giving it large.
Perhaps you're not used to 'chewing the fat'
With ordinary people in pubs
More suited to your own type and class
In your Westminster bars and clubs.
Time to work with your spin doctors
And learn how to work a photo op
It's why Farage is more popular than you
Even though his policies are no cop.
You need to travel the country
Listen to the working classes in the street
Otherwise you'll never reach Number Ten
And Cameron and Co. will have us beat.
Dulwich Poet 4th January 2015
(A newspaper report said that Ed Milliband, leader of the Labour Party, was on a private stroll on the Kent Coast, and popped into a pub to use the toilet, but didn't stop to buy a drink. And that the UKIP leader Farage has popped in there for a pint several times.)
Saturday 3 January 2015
"Time Gentleman, Please!"
Time to be determined
Time to achieve
Time to be realistic
Time to self-believe.
Time to set your targets
But not reach for the stars
You've already done your time
Getting drunk in so many bars.
Sober for over twelve years
Time to move yourself on
Time to have that self-belief
Before the rest of your life is gone.
Dulwich Poet 3rd January 2015
(Basically, a poem to myself...about the 'hope' of the New Year)
Time to achieve
Time to be realistic
Time to self-believe.
Time to set your targets
But not reach for the stars
You've already done your time
Getting drunk in so many bars.
Sober for over twelve years
Time to move yourself on
Time to have that self-belief
Before the rest of your life is gone.
Dulwich Poet 3rd January 2015
(Basically, a poem to myself...about the 'hope' of the New Year)
Friday 2 January 2015
"Ho Bloody Ho!"
Wake
Piece of cake.
Not literally.
Get up
Piss
What can be
Easier than this?
Back to bed.
Pick up a book
Almost finished.
Into the kitchen.
Unwrap the chicken.
Time to cook.
'Breaking Bad'
DVD marathon
From the comfort
Of my own archchair
With no Queen's Speech.
Time for bed
Go for a shit
Christmas Day
That was it.
Alone's not sad
Fun to be had.
On my own.
That's how I got
Through the day.
A contented lonely bloke.
Dulwich Poet 2nd January 2015
(This is, basically how I spent my Christmas Day, at home on my own)
Piece of cake.
Not literally.
Get up
Piss
What can be
Easier than this?
Back to bed.
Pick up a book
Almost finished.
Into the kitchen.
Unwrap the chicken.
Time to cook.
'Breaking Bad'
DVD marathon
From the comfort
Of my own archchair
With no Queen's Speech.
Time for bed
Go for a shit
Christmas Day
That was it.
Alone's not sad
Fun to be had.
On my own.
That's how I got
Through the day.
A contented lonely bloke.
Dulwich Poet 2nd January 2015
(This is, basically how I spent my Christmas Day, at home on my own)
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