Not that I want to go to prison
But I feel I'm doing a 'dummy run'
Stuck in my own little cell
What have I gone & done?
I'm stranded in my front porch
Two paces by seven
Even though I can't get to work
This ain't my skiving heaven.
Gone and shut my flat door
Keys not in my pocket
Now I can't get out the front one
'Cos we always lock it.
The 'we' being upstairs
Don't know if they're in or out
Looks like I'm stuck on my Jacks for the day
Nobody at all about.
I'm already uncomfortable
Sat for an hour on the floor
Teased by the frosted civilisation
Through the teasing glass door.
Leaning against the radiator
Feeling like a Sydenham Terry Waite
Getting 'distracted' by this poetry
To stop me getting in a state.
Can't even have a wank to kill time
In case a fumble's seen through the glass
Then I really would go to prison
Nonces after my arse!
But where I am at the moment
That's not my most pressing worry
What the fuck am I going to do
If I need a shit in a hurry?
Can you imagine what upstairs will think
If they walk through the door
Me curled up in the corner
And a smelly dump on the floor?
No idea how long I'll be stuck here
Hopefully not too many hours to go
And at least I've got another poem
Out of this tale of woe.
Dulwich Poet 13th August 2015
(I was ready to leave home this morning at eight o'clock. But my inner door for my flat shut behind me, & I realised I never had my keys. The front door was double locked, so I was stuck! My landlord couldn't help until the evening, luckily the upstairs flat surfaced at about half past twelve & I was 'free'!)
Thursday 13 August 2015
Sunday 9 August 2015
"Hopeful Reality"
The general rule of thumb of football
Is that you love your team...
But generally have been sold a pup.
Real success is somewhat fleeting
The odd title or maybe a cup.
I'm not one for public statements
Such a weight on your shoulder
But I'm going to break the habit of a lifetime
Shouting something never bolder.
One swallow doesn't make a summer
It was only the first game today
But I'm going to stick my neck out
We'll be Isthmian League champions by May.
It wasn't easy at the beginning
But I backed Gavin from Day One
Other fans might have wavered
I could see what was being done.
The changearound has been amazing
Beyond my wildest dream
My heart is full of hope and expectation
Even though I might not beam.
For that you cannot blame me
Look, I've got no front teeth
But right here deep inside
I'm bursting with belief.
I've supported The Hamlet for over four decades
And my dream has always been to finish first
But I'm such a 'natural born pessimist'
I always fear the worst.
More often than not it's a struggle
The football nothing more than dire
Now under the leadership of Gavin Rose
My expectation's never been higher.
It's not something that I'm used to
Got to keep it all in check
I'd hate our fans to become arrogant
Needing to wind in that neck.
My mantra's always "Don't worry about others"
Just take it one game at a time
Please forgive me if I get prematurely excited
Wanting to win the League's not a crime.
It's not been done in my generation
The last time was Forty Nine
After many decades of waiting
It is our time to shine.
Dulwich Poet 9th August 2015
(I'm usually quite pessimistic, or realistic if you like. This season I genuinely believe (whisper it!) that Dulwich Hamlet ARE capable of winning the Isthmian League title...I have done this one the day after our first match of season, we beat Canvey Island 3-0 at home. )
Is that you love your team...
But generally have been sold a pup.
Real success is somewhat fleeting
The odd title or maybe a cup.
I'm not one for public statements
Such a weight on your shoulder
But I'm going to break the habit of a lifetime
Shouting something never bolder.
One swallow doesn't make a summer
It was only the first game today
But I'm going to stick my neck out
We'll be Isthmian League champions by May.
It wasn't easy at the beginning
But I backed Gavin from Day One
Other fans might have wavered
I could see what was being done.
The changearound has been amazing
Beyond my wildest dream
My heart is full of hope and expectation
Even though I might not beam.
For that you cannot blame me
Look, I've got no front teeth
But right here deep inside
I'm bursting with belief.
I've supported The Hamlet for over four decades
And my dream has always been to finish first
But I'm such a 'natural born pessimist'
I always fear the worst.
More often than not it's a struggle
The football nothing more than dire
Now under the leadership of Gavin Rose
My expectation's never been higher.
It's not something that I'm used to
Got to keep it all in check
I'd hate our fans to become arrogant
Needing to wind in that neck.
My mantra's always "Don't worry about others"
Just take it one game at a time
Please forgive me if I get prematurely excited
Wanting to win the League's not a crime.
It's not been done in my generation
The last time was Forty Nine
After many decades of waiting
It is our time to shine.
Dulwich Poet 9th August 2015
(I'm usually quite pessimistic, or realistic if you like. This season I genuinely believe (whisper it!) that Dulwich Hamlet ARE capable of winning the Isthmian League title...I have done this one the day after our first match of season, we beat Canvey Island 3-0 at home. )
Saturday 8 August 2015
"Opening Day Nerves"
Pre-season looked good
But does it really count?
On the bus to the ground
Worries starting to mount.
First match of the season
You can't judge on one game
If the result doesn't go our way
I know who I'm going to blame.
Will you turn on the Gaffer
Pick players we need to ditch
Have a moan at the referee
Without who there's no game on the pitch.
Perhaps you're superstitious
And never wore your lucky socks
Because we always blame ourselves
When there's football shocks.
Never mind that fumble
Or missing that open goal
Us supporters always blame ourselves
If the game's not been a stroll.
I'll settle for a one nil
Backs against the wall
Too 'old skool' to be greedy
And make a fancy three nil my call.
Truth is I think we will win
But I've seen it all before
All that hpye and hope built up
Then it's really poor.
A nice early goal to settle my nerves
So for ninety minutes I can cope
The disappoint I can live with
I just can't stand the hope.
Dulwich Poet 8th August 2015
(I wrote this on the bus, on the way to our opening match at home to Canvey Island. I genuinely believe we have a chance of the Isthmian League title, which will be the fist in my lifetime, & Dulwich Hamlet's first since 1949. Spookily we DID win 3-0..with an early goal!)
But does it really count?
On the bus to the ground
Worries starting to mount.
First match of the season
You can't judge on one game
If the result doesn't go our way
I know who I'm going to blame.
Will you turn on the Gaffer
Pick players we need to ditch
Have a moan at the referee
Without who there's no game on the pitch.
Perhaps you're superstitious
And never wore your lucky socks
Because we always blame ourselves
When there's football shocks.
Never mind that fumble
Or missing that open goal
Us supporters always blame ourselves
If the game's not been a stroll.
I'll settle for a one nil
Backs against the wall
Too 'old skool' to be greedy
And make a fancy three nil my call.
Truth is I think we will win
But I've seen it all before
All that hpye and hope built up
Then it's really poor.
A nice early goal to settle my nerves
So for ninety minutes I can cope
The disappoint I can live with
I just can't stand the hope.
Dulwich Poet 8th August 2015
(I wrote this on the bus, on the way to our opening match at home to Canvey Island. I genuinely believe we have a chance of the Isthmian League title, which will be the fist in my lifetime, & Dulwich Hamlet's first since 1949. Spookily we DID win 3-0..with an early goal!)
Monday 3 August 2015
"Will You Really Miss Me?"
If I ever die prematurely
By my own hand or foul
Please don't go and shrine me
All so public with a howl.
Mourning me for thirty seconds
Laying down flowers
Thanks a bunch
Time for you to forget me
you've almost finished your lunch.
In a week I'll be be proper forgotten
Flowers rotting by the score
A bunch of brown petals
Dropping to the floor.
Burnt out little candles
In pools of hardened wax
Already I am forgotten
As you turn your backs.
My former shrine is an eyesore
Soon swept away from the street
These things aren't good for property prices
Back to normality and the neat.
It could be round the corner
I don't know when I'll die
If you thought I was half-decent
By all means have a cry.
If you want to go and mourn me
That's also your call
But just because it makes you feel better
Don't line the pockets of the flower stall.
Dulwich Poet 3rd August 2015
( There was a murder near where I live not so long ago, and this got me thinking about those temporary shrines that pop up where someone is killed)
By my own hand or foul
Please don't go and shrine me
All so public with a howl.
Mourning me for thirty seconds
Laying down flowers
Thanks a bunch
Time for you to forget me
you've almost finished your lunch.
In a week I'll be be proper forgotten
Flowers rotting by the score
A bunch of brown petals
Dropping to the floor.
Burnt out little candles
In pools of hardened wax
Already I am forgotten
As you turn your backs.
My former shrine is an eyesore
Soon swept away from the street
These things aren't good for property prices
Back to normality and the neat.
It could be round the corner
I don't know when I'll die
If you thought I was half-decent
By all means have a cry.
If you want to go and mourn me
That's also your call
But just because it makes you feel better
Don't line the pockets of the flower stall.
Dulwich Poet 3rd August 2015
( There was a murder near where I live not so long ago, and this got me thinking about those temporary shrines that pop up where someone is killed)
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