Don't believe in the mumbo jumbo
But here I am sat in a church
Hiding from the Hamburg heat
Resting on a wooden perch.
A little bit of escapism
Rather than coming in to pray
An altogether calming spot
Trying to keep bad thoughts at bay.
Whatever happens happens
Down to that karma called fate
Putting your trust in that chap called god
I simply can't relate.
I can hear the bells ringing
Is it for me they toll?
Perhaps there's really not a future
No way out of my hole.
At the moment I feel quite positive
About sorting out my life
That despite the decades old rut
Of being troubled & full of strife.
I wonder how many people right now
On other benches in this church
Have no beliefs bar escapism
Taking time out being in the lurch?
Who knows what the future holds
It can only go right or wrong
And if that wrong means I've had enough
At least I'll be 'immortalised' in song.
Remembered for a one minute silence
Then my chants for that Warhol fame
After fifteen minutes I'll be forgotten
As your thoughts turn back to the game.
Dulwich Poet 30th May 2016
( I wrote this sat in a church in Hamburg. It was warm outside, but the coolness inside this large stone building was really refreshing. I have to find a new place to live by mid-September, and it was weighing on my mind when I wrote this.)
Monday 30 May 2016
Saturday 28 May 2016
"Same Old, Same Old..."
Two minutes left on the clock
The Hamburg Cup was almost ours
The Altona 'Class of 2016'
Would go down in folklore as stars.
But then Norderstedt had that last chance
Found the back of the net
Deep down I knew it was over
Even though there was extra-time yet.
What is it about football
Whatever team I support
Whether it's my Dulwich Hamlet or Altona
We always fall just short.
There always has to be a loser
But why does it always have to be me
Is it too much to actually win something
My all too often in vain plea.
Desperate for that moment of glory
As the years tick on by
All I seem to be rewarded with is
Punched in the stomach defeats & a sneaky cry.
I live by that profit-of-doom mantra
It's the hope I can't stand
Teasing me with success
Should really be banned.
Whether it's Germany or Dulwich
I'll just man up and pull through
Expecting the same old pain next season
Because that's what fans like me do.
Dulwich Poet 28th May 2016
(In the Hamburg Cup Final my team, Altona 93, were leading...but conceded the equaliser just before full-time. We went on to lose four one, after extra time.)
The Hamburg Cup was almost ours
The Altona 'Class of 2016'
Would go down in folklore as stars.
But then Norderstedt had that last chance
Found the back of the net
Deep down I knew it was over
Even though there was extra-time yet.
What is it about football
Whatever team I support
Whether it's my Dulwich Hamlet or Altona
We always fall just short.
There always has to be a loser
But why does it always have to be me
Is it too much to actually win something
My all too often in vain plea.
Desperate for that moment of glory
As the years tick on by
All I seem to be rewarded with is
Punched in the stomach defeats & a sneaky cry.
I live by that profit-of-doom mantra
It's the hope I can't stand
Teasing me with success
Should really be banned.
Whether it's Germany or Dulwich
I'll just man up and pull through
Expecting the same old pain next season
Because that's what fans like me do.
Dulwich Poet 28th May 2016
(In the Hamburg Cup Final my team, Altona 93, were leading...but conceded the equaliser just before full-time. We went on to lose four one, after extra time.)
"45 Minutes To Go"
Calming my nerves at half-time
That's what poetry's for
I really can't believe it
One nil's the current score.
With this be a famous giant-killing
I think I know the story...
Always the inevitable
Instead of a moment of glory.
This might not be Dulwich Hamlet
But my pessimism shines through
In truth I'm scared of winning
'Cos celebration's not a thing I do.
Dulwich Poet 28th May 2016
( I scribbled this down at half-time, during the Hamburg Cup Final, when my team, Altona 93, were a goal up...)
That's what poetry's for
I really can't believe it
One nil's the current score.
With this be a famous giant-killing
I think I know the story...
Always the inevitable
Instead of a moment of glory.
This might not be Dulwich Hamlet
But my pessimism shines through
In truth I'm scared of winning
'Cos celebration's not a thing I do.
Dulwich Poet 28th May 2016
( I scribbled this down at half-time, during the Hamburg Cup Final, when my team, Altona 93, were a goal up...)
"Three Hours From Glory"
I can't believe it's finally arrived
Cup Final day at last
Something I have long dreamed for
Coming round so fast.
Yet it's got nothing to do with Dulwich Hamlet
Or Millwall in the play-offs tomorrow
It's the Oddset Pokal in Hamburg
That's going to fill me with joy or sorrow.
In general football terms
Both them and us are small beer
The only thing that links us
Is our foundation year.
But through a chance meeting
Back in November 2010
Our two clubs have fallen in love
And we go back again and again.
Who would ever have thought it
There was history to this tale
Way back in 1925
They were vanquished by our Edgar Kail!
Ninety years later
Tables were turned at Champion Hill
But defeat was almost insignificant
It was fussball freundschaft & chill.
Today I almost feel like an intruder
An outsider looking in
But believe I'll be one of the proper Altona
If we pull off a shock and win.
Dulwich Poet 28th May 2016
(I wrote this on the way to the Hamburg Cup Final, between Altona 93, who are close friends with my team Dulwich Hamlet; the opposition were Eintracht Norderstedt, who are in the league above)
Cup Final day at last
Something I have long dreamed for
Coming round so fast.
Yet it's got nothing to do with Dulwich Hamlet
Or Millwall in the play-offs tomorrow
It's the Oddset Pokal in Hamburg
That's going to fill me with joy or sorrow.
In general football terms
Both them and us are small beer
The only thing that links us
Is our foundation year.
But through a chance meeting
Back in November 2010
Our two clubs have fallen in love
And we go back again and again.
Who would ever have thought it
There was history to this tale
Way back in 1925
They were vanquished by our Edgar Kail!
Ninety years later
Tables were turned at Champion Hill
But defeat was almost insignificant
It was fussball freundschaft & chill.
Today I almost feel like an intruder
An outsider looking in
But believe I'll be one of the proper Altona
If we pull off a shock and win.
Dulwich Poet 28th May 2016
(I wrote this on the way to the Hamburg Cup Final, between Altona 93, who are close friends with my team Dulwich Hamlet; the opposition were Eintracht Norderstedt, who are in the league above)
Monday 23 May 2016
" I Had A Dream"
It's funny how as you get older
Your dreams they start to fade
All those hopes of Wembley
They begin to shade.
Amateur Cup quarter final
Back in Seventy Four
Too young to understand how close we were
Almost one foot in the door.
Six years later
Just turning into a teen
Quarter finals of the Trophy
Oh what might have been.
Then four years after that
We got to the third round proper
Long trips to Chorley, Kettering, Northwich
At neutral Nuneaton becoming a cropper.
Nowadays I've no expectation
Long given up that thing called hope
But truth is I still dream of success
Though pain of defeat is hard to cope.
So what is this thing called football
Supposed to be my leisure
Instead causing so much pain and hurt
With very little pleasure.
Take the London Senior
We got to the semi final
Drawn away to the enemy
Our bitter arch rival.
They might have been a division lower
But with us they wiped the floor
Absolutely humiliated
Three nil the final score.
That's the trouble with supporting Dulwich Hamlet
Only offered a shred of hope
no wonder I'm such a pessimist
It's the only way I cope.
It would be a miracle to reach Wembley
Every year at the Trophy I close my eyes and dream
That under the arch will be Pink & Blue to the rafters
Down my face tears will stream.
There's more chance of me winning the lottery
Than marching with 'The Rabble' down Wembley Way
But it's that hope that I hate keeping me going
Until it's our turn next year in May.
Dulwich Poet 23rd May 2016
(I wrote this after going to the FA Trophy final yesterday, between FC Halifax Town & Grimsby Town)
Your dreams they start to fade
All those hopes of Wembley
They begin to shade.
Amateur Cup quarter final
Back in Seventy Four
Too young to understand how close we were
Almost one foot in the door.
Six years later
Just turning into a teen
Quarter finals of the Trophy
Oh what might have been.
Then four years after that
We got to the third round proper
Long trips to Chorley, Kettering, Northwich
At neutral Nuneaton becoming a cropper.
Nowadays I've no expectation
Long given up that thing called hope
But truth is I still dream of success
Though pain of defeat is hard to cope.
So what is this thing called football
Supposed to be my leisure
Instead causing so much pain and hurt
With very little pleasure.
Take the London Senior
We got to the semi final
Drawn away to the enemy
Our bitter arch rival.
They might have been a division lower
But with us they wiped the floor
Absolutely humiliated
Three nil the final score.
That's the trouble with supporting Dulwich Hamlet
Only offered a shred of hope
no wonder I'm such a pessimist
It's the only way I cope.
It would be a miracle to reach Wembley
Every year at the Trophy I close my eyes and dream
That under the arch will be Pink & Blue to the rafters
Down my face tears will stream.
There's more chance of me winning the lottery
Than marching with 'The Rabble' down Wembley Way
But it's that hope that I hate keeping me going
Until it's our turn next year in May.
Dulwich Poet 23rd May 2016
(I wrote this after going to the FA Trophy final yesterday, between FC Halifax Town & Grimsby Town)
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