A Monday at work's just over
The whole week stretches ahead
Normal people go home for supper
Then thinking of their bed.
Perhaps a bit of telly
Corrie or Eastenders on the box
None of that will be for me
Out for one of those cup shocks.
Ok, that's a slight exaggeration
It two Step Fives in opposition
Tower Hamlets versus Beckenham Town
On their London Senior Cup mission.
Never mind 'hold the back page'
Hardly a line in the local paper
It's not as if I haven't been there
So no excuse of a groundhopping caper.
Yet I'm on the train to Mile End
The other side of the River
As the nights get colder
I will start to shiver.
The mind will start to wander
Knowing I've lost the plot
Admitting I'm 'Billy-no-mates'
But is this the only entertainment I've got?
Whisper it gently, I like this
Going out to watch a game
I'm not too fussed about the level
It's not all about the fame.
Twenty two average blokes
Without a lot of skill
But still enough to warm me
In the early autumn chill.
Relaxing on a bench seat
Looks like full moon in the sky
Council blocks & Canary Wharf for backdrop
Can't explain why I'm here if I try.
I'm sat down all contented
In the sparsely populated stand
Not bothered if you don't get me
Cos where I'm sitting life is grand.
There's no more than forty people
Dotted along this running track ground
And you know I wouldn't be anywhere else
Worth every penny of my six pound.
Dulwich Poet 28th September 2015
( I had a choice last night of going home after work, or a London Senior Cup tie between Tower Hamlets & Beckenham Town....I chose the football. Beckenham won 5-2, in front of about forty people)
Tuesday 29 September 2015
Monday 28 September 2015
"Still Got It"
I'm on this train contented
Scribbling with my pen
I've been neglecting my poetry
And now I'm starting again.
No idea if it's any good
Just something I like to do
There's nothing more that calms me inside
Than starting one anew.
They say one if four are mental
At some stage of their life
I don't or care if that applies to me
But poetry helps me deal with life.
Now I'm getting older
I no longer care for much at all
I use poetry as my 'personal therapy'
Which ain't such a bad call.
There's this myth about poetry
It's only for the educated and posh
Well if you've ever met me
You'll know that's a load of tosh.
Ant Tom, Dick or Harry can write it
Doesn't matter if it's any good
What do you think all that rapping is
From inner city working class youth in the hood?
Don't be scared of poetry
It's not going to bite you on the arse
Poetry's for EVERYONE
Even if you were the dunce of the class.
Putting your thoughts down on paper
It's what I do for myself
The bonus is it keeps me sane
And improves my mental health.
Dulwich Poet 28th September 2015
( I've been going through quite a phase where I've not have the time, energy, whatever to be writing poetry...this is a short one about that...after I'd done one or two in the last couple of days.)
Scribbling with my pen
I've been neglecting my poetry
And now I'm starting again.
No idea if it's any good
Just something I like to do
There's nothing more that calms me inside
Than starting one anew.
They say one if four are mental
At some stage of their life
I don't or care if that applies to me
But poetry helps me deal with life.
Now I'm getting older
I no longer care for much at all
I use poetry as my 'personal therapy'
Which ain't such a bad call.
There's this myth about poetry
It's only for the educated and posh
Well if you've ever met me
You'll know that's a load of tosh.
Ant Tom, Dick or Harry can write it
Doesn't matter if it's any good
What do you think all that rapping is
From inner city working class youth in the hood?
Don't be scared of poetry
It's not going to bite you on the arse
Poetry's for EVERYONE
Even if you were the dunce of the class.
Putting your thoughts down on paper
It's what I do for myself
The bonus is it keeps me sane
And improves my mental health.
Dulwich Poet 28th September 2015
( I've been going through quite a phase where I've not have the time, energy, whatever to be writing poetry...this is a short one about that...after I'd done one or two in the last couple of days.)
Saturday 26 September 2015
"Peeking"
You!
Blond boy...
By the door.
Dirty sweat shirt
And joggers.
Bet you don't know
What's going through
My dirty mind
As you stand there
Texting...
With your hand
Down your strides.
Do you know
How to kill
A poem?
Just get off
At hassocks
As that fucker did.
The dream is over!
Dulwich Bloke 26th September 2015
(Just me...admiring a good looking young bloke on the train home!)
Blond boy...
By the door.
Dirty sweat shirt
And joggers.
Bet you don't know
What's going through
My dirty mind
As you stand there
Texting...
With your hand
Down your strides.
Do you know
How to kill
A poem?
Just get off
At hassocks
As that fucker did.
The dream is over!
Dulwich Bloke 26th September 2015
(Just me...admiring a good looking young bloke on the train home!)
"Back of the Net"
I claim to be a Luddite
New technology I'm loathe to try
But I'm not quite that old dinosaur
Where everything has passed me by.
I've got a mobile phone
Not one of them fancy computer things
But I'm 'modern' enough to do the basics
Sending texts and answering when it rings.
It doesn't make it any easier
When I have to work on the day of a game
Keeping an eye on the computers
Live up-dates aren't the same.
Dealing with the public at the counter
That's my library role
Pretending that I'm interested
When all I want is FootballWebPages and a goal.
The clock is slowly ticking
Almost time to close the doors
But I've got no interest in that
I just want to scan the scores.
Other teams are winning
But we are still nil nil
Come on...it's just another game
Calm down and start to chill.
But even if I'm not there
Not winning ruins my week
Scared to have another look
Losing is so bleak.
It's gone into stoppage time
One last press 'refresh'
Get in there! One nil from the new boy
Who cares if I'm not there in the flesh.
The wonder of the modern age
No waiting for Ceefax at home
Now we only have to wait a second
For each and every goal to be shown.
None of that old clunkiness
Waiting for page seven of fifty four
Then you'd lose concentration
And waste half an hour going round once more.
No longer wading through Spartans & Athenians
Waiting for the Isthmian page
Then it turns too quickly cos we're at Woking
Making me fly into a rage.
Thank you to the internet inventor
Cos Ceefax was so tricky
Today I've got instant gratification
From a last minute winner against Billericay.
Dulwich Poet 26th September 2015
(This is about being stuck at work, and having to rely sneaking peeks at computers to check the score, the day I'm writing about here, we beat Billericay Town, with the only goal of the game in stoppage time.)
New technology I'm loathe to try
But I'm not quite that old dinosaur
Where everything has passed me by.
I've got a mobile phone
Not one of them fancy computer things
But I'm 'modern' enough to do the basics
Sending texts and answering when it rings.
It doesn't make it any easier
When I have to work on the day of a game
Keeping an eye on the computers
Live up-dates aren't the same.
Dealing with the public at the counter
That's my library role
Pretending that I'm interested
When all I want is FootballWebPages and a goal.
The clock is slowly ticking
Almost time to close the doors
But I've got no interest in that
I just want to scan the scores.
Other teams are winning
But we are still nil nil
Come on...it's just another game
Calm down and start to chill.
But even if I'm not there
Not winning ruins my week
Scared to have another look
Losing is so bleak.
It's gone into stoppage time
One last press 'refresh'
Get in there! One nil from the new boy
Who cares if I'm not there in the flesh.
The wonder of the modern age
No waiting for Ceefax at home
Now we only have to wait a second
For each and every goal to be shown.
None of that old clunkiness
Waiting for page seven of fifty four
Then you'd lose concentration
And waste half an hour going round once more.
No longer wading through Spartans & Athenians
Waiting for the Isthmian page
Then it turns too quickly cos we're at Woking
Making me fly into a rage.
Thank you to the internet inventor
Cos Ceefax was so tricky
Today I've got instant gratification
From a last minute winner against Billericay.
Dulwich Poet 26th September 2015
(This is about being stuck at work, and having to rely sneaking peeks at computers to check the score, the day I'm writing about here, we beat Billericay Town, with the only goal of the game in stoppage time.)
"Dreaming of the Runs"
It's a gorgeous Saturday morning
I'm off down to the coast
FA Cup at Whitehawk
You know the thing I hate most...
No hope or expectation
I'm sure we're going to lose
At least unlike distant past defeats
I won't sink myself in booze.
The beauty of being sober
Is not thinking of a pub opening its door
Being able to potter about in charity shops
And stroll along the shore.
This morning I'm really buzzing
Heading to East Croydon on the tram
And if we lose as expected
I'm not going to give a damn!
Pundits don't know what they're saying
The magic of the Cup being dead
Last night I struggled to go to sleep
And this morning jumped out of bed.
Time to wheel out the cliches
It's eleven against eleven
But if we manage to nick it
I will be in footballing heaven.
The Cup's a great leveller
Anything can happen on the day
Maybe we can upset the bookies
Despite what the odds will say.
I've got butterflies in my stomach
Hope in my heart
And even though I expect to lose
Defeat will tear me apart.
Not as if it's unexpected
We do nothing in this competition
Long gone are those distant days
When reaching the First Round Proper was my ambition.
Practically every other club has done it
Doing better than us year by year
Even lower division outfits
As we hardly ever got near.
The only time in my lifetime
Was back in ninety eight
Losing to an own goal at home to Southport
Such was the fickle hand of fate.
I'm resigned to not getting there
My dream of a Football League club away
But while we're still in the competition
There's an outside chance of having our day.
And that's why I'm off to Brighton
Heading for Whitehawk today
Come on Dulwich Hamlet do the business
To my god Edgar Kail I pray.
Dulwich Poet 26th September 2015
(I wrote this on the way to our FA Cup 2nd qualifying round tie away to Whitehawk. A really tough draw, as they are third in the league above us. We always struggle in the FA Cup anyway...we lost 4-2.)
I'm off down to the coast
FA Cup at Whitehawk
You know the thing I hate most...
No hope or expectation
I'm sure we're going to lose
At least unlike distant past defeats
I won't sink myself in booze.
The beauty of being sober
Is not thinking of a pub opening its door
Being able to potter about in charity shops
And stroll along the shore.
This morning I'm really buzzing
Heading to East Croydon on the tram
And if we lose as expected
I'm not going to give a damn!
Pundits don't know what they're saying
The magic of the Cup being dead
Last night I struggled to go to sleep
And this morning jumped out of bed.
Time to wheel out the cliches
It's eleven against eleven
But if we manage to nick it
I will be in footballing heaven.
The Cup's a great leveller
Anything can happen on the day
Maybe we can upset the bookies
Despite what the odds will say.
I've got butterflies in my stomach
Hope in my heart
And even though I expect to lose
Defeat will tear me apart.
Not as if it's unexpected
We do nothing in this competition
Long gone are those distant days
When reaching the First Round Proper was my ambition.
Practically every other club has done it
Doing better than us year by year
Even lower division outfits
As we hardly ever got near.
The only time in my lifetime
Was back in ninety eight
Losing to an own goal at home to Southport
Such was the fickle hand of fate.
I'm resigned to not getting there
My dream of a Football League club away
But while we're still in the competition
There's an outside chance of having our day.
And that's why I'm off to Brighton
Heading for Whitehawk today
Come on Dulwich Hamlet do the business
To my god Edgar Kail I pray.
Dulwich Poet 26th September 2015
(I wrote this on the way to our FA Cup 2nd qualifying round tie away to Whitehawk. A really tough draw, as they are third in the league above us. We always struggle in the FA Cup anyway...we lost 4-2.)
Saturday 19 September 2015
"Saturday Commute"
Tired.
Weekend.
Work.
Drudgery.
Climbing up
The Steps
At Surrey Quays
Overground.
Facing me
Going down
Looking down.
Miserable.
Ha! You just
Missed
Your train.
For the first
And probably
Only time today
I have
A smile on my face.
Dulwich Poet 19th September 2015
(I jotted this one down, not my 'normal' sort of poetry 'style', after someone went past and didn't make the train that I had just got off of.)
Weekend.
Work.
Drudgery.
Climbing up
The Steps
At Surrey Quays
Overground.
Facing me
Going down
Looking down.
Miserable.
Ha! You just
Missed
Your train.
For the first
And probably
Only time today
I have
A smile on my face.
Dulwich Poet 19th September 2015
(I jotted this one down, not my 'normal' sort of poetry 'style', after someone went past and didn't make the train that I had just got off of.)
Friday 4 September 2015
"Time To Be Counted"
Don't get me wrong I love the 'New-veaus'
But this is becoming a farce
So much sitting on the fence
Heads up your own arse.
Acting like turkeys voting for Christmas
Despite what's being handed on a plate
Do they really not realise
What could be our fate?
No new ground means oblivion
And almost certain death
Even though it might be lingering
It will result in the last breath.
A new modern ground on offer
With an all-purpose 3G pitch
Yet all you seem to want to do
Is nit-pick and snitch.
Being offered full supporter ownership
Handed on that plate
But you're too busy quibbling
About the lease and expiry date.
Can't you see what we could have
A sign with 'Fan Owned' on the door
Yet all you do is hold out
Making excuses for more.
It's like a game of poker
Who will hold their nerve
Well if I were the owners
I'd give the Trust a swerve.
It's time to stand together
In public arm and arm
In favour of the stadium
As opponents try to cause alarm.
Unbelievably there's some who think a 'Plan B'
Is something that might come in play
If all else fails staying at the current ground
But there will be hell to pay.
Some even say we could 'downsize'
I've heard it with my very own ears
And that was when I was sober
I wouldn't have believed it after a few beers.
It's time for fans to get organised
Stand up and make stand
Campaign openly for the new place
And reclaim 'Pa' Wilson's land!
Dulwich Poet 4th September 2015
(This one is written out of sheer frustration...it's the policy of our Supporters Trust board, of which I was elected to in the summer, NOT to express public support for the development of a new stadium, which I totally believe will save the Club and ensure we have a future...)
But this is becoming a farce
So much sitting on the fence
Heads up your own arse.
Acting like turkeys voting for Christmas
Despite what's being handed on a plate
Do they really not realise
What could be our fate?
No new ground means oblivion
And almost certain death
Even though it might be lingering
It will result in the last breath.
A new modern ground on offer
With an all-purpose 3G pitch
Yet all you seem to want to do
Is nit-pick and snitch.
Being offered full supporter ownership
Handed on that plate
But you're too busy quibbling
About the lease and expiry date.
Can't you see what we could have
A sign with 'Fan Owned' on the door
Yet all you do is hold out
Making excuses for more.
It's like a game of poker
Who will hold their nerve
Well if I were the owners
I'd give the Trust a swerve.
It's time to stand together
In public arm and arm
In favour of the stadium
As opponents try to cause alarm.
Unbelievably there's some who think a 'Plan B'
Is something that might come in play
If all else fails staying at the current ground
But there will be hell to pay.
Some even say we could 'downsize'
I've heard it with my very own ears
And that was when I was sober
I wouldn't have believed it after a few beers.
It's time for fans to get organised
Stand up and make stand
Campaign openly for the new place
And reclaim 'Pa' Wilson's land!
Dulwich Poet 4th September 2015
(This one is written out of sheer frustration...it's the policy of our Supporters Trust board, of which I was elected to in the summer, NOT to express public support for the development of a new stadium, which I totally believe will save the Club and ensure we have a future...)
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