Four becomes three then two...
Soon to be only one
Starting to feel the pressure
So much to be done.
I'm leaving my comfort zone
Make that buried my head in the sand
People think I'm normal
But don't understand.
The way I live is crazy
Despite that outward front
If you knew my reality
You label me a crazy cunt.
Over two decades of hording
A flat full of crap
Paper and books to the ceiling
And you think I'm a normal chap.
Now I've got to downsize
Can only afford a room in a share
Whatever little I can take with me
It's going to feel so bare.
Still not finished sorting
With seven weeks to go
Trying not to think of what I get rid of
Such an emotional blow.
Frightened of a flat-share
My social skills are low
It's not something that I want
But forced to give it a go.
Somehow I need to change my mind-set
Looking forward not back
Give myself confidence
Which is what I lack.
I'll be fifty in October
A thought that leaves me cold
Having achieved nothing with my life
And now I feel really old.
Others think so much more of me
Than I do of myself
To achieve inner happiness
You don't actually need wealth.
I've got my non-league football
Without money in the bank
Never had a real boyfriend
But an expert at having a wank.
I've belatedly grown to love my poetry
Which is also an emotional crutch
Some might say that's a bonus
As my rhymes don't amount to much.
My life's been stuck in a huge rut
A simple statement of fact
Even though it's been forced on me
Now is time to act.
So many things I want to do
Yet so little I achieve
Maybe about to turn fifty
It's about time to believe?
Dulwich Poet 31st July 2016
(In May I was given four months notice to move, from the flat I have lived in for over twenty years. I will have to 'downsize' into a room in a flat-share. I am having to clear & throw out a lot of stuff I've accumulated as a 'hoarder'. The pressure is on...)
Sunday 31 July 2016
Saturday 30 July 2016
"The Girlie Game"
Perhaps it's the fact they're rubbish
That brings me back again
Millwall Lionesses playing Bristol City
Tonight here at The Den.
It's a pleasant evening
Something to do after work
I'm just here for the football
Not a dirty old man having a lurk!
The only people I'm eyeing up
Are their boyfriends in the stand
And if they're missing their girls on the pitch
I can offer a helping hand!
So different from the mens game
You really can't compare
If you make comparisons
That is just unfair.
To me it's a game of football
No matter the style on the pitch
If the standard's not the best
Who am I to bitch?
Tactically aware and passing
Playing to their strength
It's certainly not kick and rush
Hoofing it the length.
I can't knock Saturday evening football
Which is why I'm here
It's not as if I've better to do
Seeing as I'm off the beer.
Maybe, with the Lionesses struggling
I'm trying to fin the Dulwich of old
Bored & miserable in an empty stadium
That was how I rolled.
Truth is I'm happy to watch any football
Whatever floats my boat
Slagging off the womens game for the sake of it
Really gets on my goat.
The Lionesses have a great history
So need to beat Bristol City
Which is why I'm cheering them on here
Because relegation would be such a pity.
Dulwich Poet 30th July 2016
( I wrote this at The Den, during the Millwall Lionesses 2-1 home defeat to Bristol City, in the Womens Super League Second Division)
That brings me back again
Millwall Lionesses playing Bristol City
Tonight here at The Den.
It's a pleasant evening
Something to do after work
I'm just here for the football
Not a dirty old man having a lurk!
The only people I'm eyeing up
Are their boyfriends in the stand
And if they're missing their girls on the pitch
I can offer a helping hand!
So different from the mens game
You really can't compare
If you make comparisons
That is just unfair.
To me it's a game of football
No matter the style on the pitch
If the standard's not the best
Who am I to bitch?
Tactically aware and passing
Playing to their strength
It's certainly not kick and rush
Hoofing it the length.
I can't knock Saturday evening football
Which is why I'm here
It's not as if I've better to do
Seeing as I'm off the beer.
Maybe, with the Lionesses struggling
I'm trying to fin the Dulwich of old
Bored & miserable in an empty stadium
That was how I rolled.
Truth is I'm happy to watch any football
Whatever floats my boat
Slagging off the womens game for the sake of it
Really gets on my goat.
The Lionesses have a great history
So need to beat Bristol City
Which is why I'm cheering them on here
Because relegation would be such a pity.
Dulwich Poet 30th July 2016
( I wrote this at The Den, during the Millwall Lionesses 2-1 home defeat to Bristol City, in the Womens Super League Second Division)
"Lucky Escape"
How would I have killed you
If you'd got your way
Do you really want my thoughts
As they are today?
Does it sound drastic
But what would I have had to lose
Kill my club and I kill you
You'd understand in my shoes.
You were the figurehead
A weasel of a man
I would have made you suffer
In every way I can.
There would have been no screaming
As you'd have worn a gag
But trust me it would have been painful
I'd have been a Broadmoor bound old lag.
Death would have been a mercy
As you plead to die
My job would be to inflict pain
Keeping you alive as I try.
Breaking you bone by bone
Chopping off your fingers with a knife
Ramming a bottle up your arse
As you realise it's the end of your life.
So you couldn't fuck anyone else up
I'd slice off your cock
Taking my pleasure as blood drains
And you're in total shock.
But none of this happened
It's all in my head
You've made it to three score and ten
Alive instead of dead.
Would I have had it in me?
Only I truly know
It depends on how much you push me
Go on give it a go...
I don't believe in heaven
So it follows there's no hell
And I once I get used to it
I'm sure I'd cope with a padded cell.
Dulwich Poet 30th July 2016
(This is very much a gruesome 'what might have been'...In an earlier poem today I wrote about getting my Football Club getting planning permission for their current ground, 26 years ago today. If it had not been approved the Club would have folded. This is about how I might have wreaked my revenge on someone who opposed it...)
If you'd got your way
Do you really want my thoughts
As they are today?
Does it sound drastic
But what would I have had to lose
Kill my club and I kill you
You'd understand in my shoes.
You were the figurehead
A weasel of a man
I would have made you suffer
In every way I can.
There would have been no screaming
As you'd have worn a gag
But trust me it would have been painful
I'd have been a Broadmoor bound old lag.
Death would have been a mercy
As you plead to die
My job would be to inflict pain
Keeping you alive as I try.
Breaking you bone by bone
Chopping off your fingers with a knife
Ramming a bottle up your arse
As you realise it's the end of your life.
So you couldn't fuck anyone else up
I'd slice off your cock
Taking my pleasure as blood drains
And you're in total shock.
But none of this happened
It's all in my head
You've made it to three score and ten
Alive instead of dead.
Would I have had it in me?
Only I truly know
It depends on how much you push me
Go on give it a go...
I don't believe in heaven
So it follows there's no hell
And I once I get used to it
I'm sure I'd cope with a padded cell.
Dulwich Poet 30th July 2016
(This is very much a gruesome 'what might have been'...In an earlier poem today I wrote about getting my Football Club getting planning permission for their current ground, 26 years ago today. If it had not been approved the Club would have folded. This is about how I might have wreaked my revenge on someone who opposed it...)
"What Did You Do In The War?"
All we're going to hear today
Is 'fifty years of hurt'
But you won't know what 'V.D. Night' is
That's a total cert!
We fought them over the checkouts
We campaigned on the streets
Of all the things I've done for Dulwich Hamlet
This was one of my proudest feats.
Victory for Dulwich
We took on the NIMBYs and won
It really was a battle
But done without a gun.
The new ground you see today
May look tired and frayed
But it was essential
The old ground was so decayed.
This was back in the very late Eighties
Football had no reputation to lose
Post-Heysel and Hillsborough
It filtered down to my Pink & Blues.
We would get our new ground
With a Sainsburys next door
If the Council hadn't approved it
We were dead for sure.
Crumbling cinder terracing fenced off
A few concrete steps in its place
Pre-War wiring in the wooden stand
We could disappear without trace.
Football matches come and go
Win, lose or draw
But this had to be total victory
Which was why it was our war.
Working class football fans
Went and took to the street
Far too much at stake for us
There was no way we could be beat.
Next door was a run-down waterlogged playing-field
Apparently a community cherished oasis of green
'Much used' for cricket by local kids
Chased off by an Alsatian once seen.
Such was the beauty of corrugated iron
By the council flats on Dog Kennel Hill
It was compared to the fields of Tuscany
Which took some descriptive skill.
Let's not forget the mythical gingko trees
And colonies of bats at night
Their campaign full of half-truths and lies
Hardly whiter-than-white.
We took them on and beat them
When oblivion was staring us in the face
Making sure of the future of The Hamlet
Champion Hill our rightful place.
Continuing the legacy of 'Pa' Wilson
His spirit will live on
Otherwise the memory of Edgar Kail
And other greats would have gone.
Every single 30th of July
Twenty-six years since that night
I stop a moment to reflect
How desperate was our plight.
To ninety-seven years of history
We would have said goodbye
My life would have been over
I'd have done more than just cry.
People say jokingly
Cut me I'll bleed Pink & Blue
It's just ordinary claret red
But the sentiment is true.
I'm just a run-of-the-mill supporter
Who helps his club in any way I can
Doing little bits here and there
As would any other fan.
The problem is my club's caused a life of crisis
Much more worry than hope
But looking on the plus side
The rare good times help me cope.
I've survived Milsted, Dye and McCormack
They've all been called 'spivs' and worse
Sometimes being too involved
Can be a bit of a curse.
Worrying about the future
Instead of obliviously drinking a craft ale can
Sunning it at the Car Park End
Topping up your tan.
Just turning up a five to three
A keyboard warrior at home
Yet you're proper hard-core Dulwich
With a Pink & Blue garden gnome.
I envy your innocence
Thinking everything's hunky-dory
Blind to what goes on behind the scenes
Which is a totally different story.
You aren't even aware
Of how we took them on and won
All you do is turn up for the match
Having your bit of fun.
If we'd have lost I'd be in prison
Having done the dirty deed
Bumping off those locals
Who killed my club when in need.
Luckily it never happened
Currently Dulwich Hamlet thrive
Today is the 30th of July
The day we kept our Football Club alive.
Dulwich Poet 30th July 2016
( Today is the 30th of July, remembered for England's 1966 World Cup win. In 1990, on the same, Dulwich Hamlet received planning permission for their current ground. If it had been turned down the club would have gone out of existence. It's recalled by older fans like me as 'VD Night': Victory for Dulwich!)
Is 'fifty years of hurt'
But you won't know what 'V.D. Night' is
That's a total cert!
We fought them over the checkouts
We campaigned on the streets
Of all the things I've done for Dulwich Hamlet
This was one of my proudest feats.
Victory for Dulwich
We took on the NIMBYs and won
It really was a battle
But done without a gun.
The new ground you see today
May look tired and frayed
But it was essential
The old ground was so decayed.
This was back in the very late Eighties
Football had no reputation to lose
Post-Heysel and Hillsborough
It filtered down to my Pink & Blues.
We would get our new ground
With a Sainsburys next door
If the Council hadn't approved it
We were dead for sure.
Crumbling cinder terracing fenced off
A few concrete steps in its place
Pre-War wiring in the wooden stand
We could disappear without trace.
Football matches come and go
Win, lose or draw
But this had to be total victory
Which was why it was our war.
Working class football fans
Went and took to the street
Far too much at stake for us
There was no way we could be beat.
Next door was a run-down waterlogged playing-field
Apparently a community cherished oasis of green
'Much used' for cricket by local kids
Chased off by an Alsatian once seen.
Such was the beauty of corrugated iron
By the council flats on Dog Kennel Hill
It was compared to the fields of Tuscany
Which took some descriptive skill.
Let's not forget the mythical gingko trees
And colonies of bats at night
Their campaign full of half-truths and lies
Hardly whiter-than-white.
We took them on and beat them
When oblivion was staring us in the face
Making sure of the future of The Hamlet
Champion Hill our rightful place.
Continuing the legacy of 'Pa' Wilson
His spirit will live on
Otherwise the memory of Edgar Kail
And other greats would have gone.
Every single 30th of July
Twenty-six years since that night
I stop a moment to reflect
How desperate was our plight.
To ninety-seven years of history
We would have said goodbye
My life would have been over
I'd have done more than just cry.
People say jokingly
Cut me I'll bleed Pink & Blue
It's just ordinary claret red
But the sentiment is true.
I'm just a run-of-the-mill supporter
Who helps his club in any way I can
Doing little bits here and there
As would any other fan.
The problem is my club's caused a life of crisis
Much more worry than hope
But looking on the plus side
The rare good times help me cope.
I've survived Milsted, Dye and McCormack
They've all been called 'spivs' and worse
Sometimes being too involved
Can be a bit of a curse.
Worrying about the future
Instead of obliviously drinking a craft ale can
Sunning it at the Car Park End
Topping up your tan.
Just turning up a five to three
A keyboard warrior at home
Yet you're proper hard-core Dulwich
With a Pink & Blue garden gnome.
I envy your innocence
Thinking everything's hunky-dory
Blind to what goes on behind the scenes
Which is a totally different story.
You aren't even aware
Of how we took them on and won
All you do is turn up for the match
Having your bit of fun.
If we'd have lost I'd be in prison
Having done the dirty deed
Bumping off those locals
Who killed my club when in need.
Luckily it never happened
Currently Dulwich Hamlet thrive
Today is the 30th of July
The day we kept our Football Club alive.
Dulwich Poet 30th July 2016
( Today is the 30th of July, remembered for England's 1966 World Cup win. In 1990, on the same, Dulwich Hamlet received planning permission for their current ground. If it had been turned down the club would have gone out of existence. It's recalled by older fans like me as 'VD Night': Victory for Dulwich!)
Friday 29 July 2016
"Reading Challenged"
Pretending to be nice
Listening to kids describe books
It might sound simple
But it's not as easy as it looks.
The 'Summer Reading Challenge'
Established up and down the land
Honestly if I had my way
This stupid scheme would be banned.
It's not that I hate children
As long as they're not in my way
Having to engage with them
Totally ruins my day.
Telling me a bit of a story
From the book they've read
Genuinely drives me mental
Doing in my head.
I know it gives them pleasure
Telling me their tale
But it's torture for me to suffer
I want to weep and wail.
It's supposed to be a summary
Not 'And then'...'And then'...'And then'...
When I ask how it finishes
They go 'And then'...again!
And all for a bit of cheap shit
A sticker or a piece of card
You'll get better crap at Poundland
It's really not that hard.
Maybe I'm just jealous
'Cos I never had this as a child
But would it have been the thing for me
As a brat I was too wild.
I read, but wasn't like a boffin
As there was always a gas meter to rob
Or just smashing milk bottles for fun
As part of a pre-teenage mob.
The library was for letting off stink bombs
Nothing more, nothing less
And before they kicked you out
Creating havoc and a mess.
Even though I was only playing
I must have been that kid I hate
The one that screams and shouts
Leaving the library in a state.
I'm blaming Esther Rantzen
For inventing her 'Childline' wheeze
Before that grass-line came along
A clip round the ear was a breeze.
Truth is I never liked children
Even when I was one myself
Time to bring back the 'Child Catcher'
I hope he's still in rude health.
Dulwich Poet 29th July 2016
(Every summer public libraries up and down the country have a 'Summer Reading Challenge' for young children. They have to read six books & tell staff a little about them. It's not a part of my job I enjoy...)
Listening to kids describe books
It might sound simple
But it's not as easy as it looks.
The 'Summer Reading Challenge'
Established up and down the land
Honestly if I had my way
This stupid scheme would be banned.
It's not that I hate children
As long as they're not in my way
Having to engage with them
Totally ruins my day.
Telling me a bit of a story
From the book they've read
Genuinely drives me mental
Doing in my head.
I know it gives them pleasure
Telling me their tale
But it's torture for me to suffer
I want to weep and wail.
It's supposed to be a summary
Not 'And then'...'And then'...'And then'...
When I ask how it finishes
They go 'And then'...again!
And all for a bit of cheap shit
A sticker or a piece of card
You'll get better crap at Poundland
It's really not that hard.
Maybe I'm just jealous
'Cos I never had this as a child
But would it have been the thing for me
As a brat I was too wild.
I read, but wasn't like a boffin
As there was always a gas meter to rob
Or just smashing milk bottles for fun
As part of a pre-teenage mob.
The library was for letting off stink bombs
Nothing more, nothing less
And before they kicked you out
Creating havoc and a mess.
Even though I was only playing
I must have been that kid I hate
The one that screams and shouts
Leaving the library in a state.
I'm blaming Esther Rantzen
For inventing her 'Childline' wheeze
Before that grass-line came along
A clip round the ear was a breeze.
Truth is I never liked children
Even when I was one myself
Time to bring back the 'Child Catcher'
I hope he's still in rude health.
Dulwich Poet 29th July 2016
(Every summer public libraries up and down the country have a 'Summer Reading Challenge' for young children. They have to read six books & tell staff a little about them. It's not a part of my job I enjoy...)
Friday 15 July 2016
"Drinking Al Fresco"
I'm sat on a park bench in Vauxhall
Waiting for poetry tonight
A bunch of pissheads around the next one
For drunks they're rather polite.
Chatting, animated
I can't tell if they swear
It's some Eastern European lingo
That's filling the evening air.
It's loud but not aggressive
I guess they can't afford our pubs
So while the weather's good
They form little street drinking clubs.
It's strange not hearing cursing
No words like 'fuck' or 'cunt'
It doesn't get more threatening
Than a Polish or Romanian grunt.
I guess they're all unwinding
After a hard week at work
Yet if the Brexit boys are believed
All this lot do is shirk.
Well I'd rather have this lot for company
Even though I'm alone & can't follow what they say
Give me them over our racist home grown chavs
Who've never worked a single day!
Dulwich Poet 15th July 2016
(I was early for a poetry evening in Vauxhall, so sat in the park opposite the venue & wrote this about the people drinking next to me)
Waiting for poetry tonight
A bunch of pissheads around the next one
For drunks they're rather polite.
Chatting, animated
I can't tell if they swear
It's some Eastern European lingo
That's filling the evening air.
It's loud but not aggressive
I guess they can't afford our pubs
So while the weather's good
They form little street drinking clubs.
It's strange not hearing cursing
No words like 'fuck' or 'cunt'
It doesn't get more threatening
Than a Polish or Romanian grunt.
I guess they're all unwinding
After a hard week at work
Yet if the Brexit boys are believed
All this lot do is shirk.
Well I'd rather have this lot for company
Even though I'm alone & can't follow what they say
Give me them over our racist home grown chavs
Who've never worked a single day!
Dulwich Poet 15th July 2016
(I was early for a poetry evening in Vauxhall, so sat in the park opposite the venue & wrote this about the people drinking next to me)
"Bollocks!"
The trouble with my poetry
Is trying to find the time
I have the ideas in my head
The problem's not the rhyme.
I love what I am doing
It's what keeps me sane
Simply put it's what I enjoy
Though I have to keep it plain.
right now I've got the right hump
Sat on the bus to work
I've left a notebook at home
And feel a total berk.
I'd almost composed two new ones
Which are in that pad
Was planning to read them here
Now I'm feeling bad.
It's 'Paper Tiger' poetry
For which I probably won't show
Even though I love Open Mic
I'm leaning to a 'no show'.
Maybe as the day wears on
I'll be in a better frame of mind
With plenty of other material to share
That won't be hard to find.
You may wonder why I'm writing this
Well it's my 'therapy' to calm me down
It's not intellectual or insightful
I've never worn a mortar or gown.
But poetry's something I can do
It's my little 'escape'
A way of making me feel good
'Proper' poets I try to ape.
When I started scribbling
I was going to give tonight a miss
But that would only make me feel bad
Out of myself I'd take the piss.
Which is why I'm reading right now
In a room full of you lot
Pretending to be a poetic Paper Tiger
Giving it all I've got.
Dulwich Poet 15th July 2016
( I had a couple of almost finished poems, which I planned to read at the 'Paper Tiger' Open Mic poetry evening. On the bus to work I realsied I'd left my notebook at home, which really annoyed me... I wrote this on the bus, to calm myself down...& finished it later in the day)
Is trying to find the time
I have the ideas in my head
The problem's not the rhyme.
I love what I am doing
It's what keeps me sane
Simply put it's what I enjoy
Though I have to keep it plain.
right now I've got the right hump
Sat on the bus to work
I've left a notebook at home
And feel a total berk.
I'd almost composed two new ones
Which are in that pad
Was planning to read them here
Now I'm feeling bad.
It's 'Paper Tiger' poetry
For which I probably won't show
Even though I love Open Mic
I'm leaning to a 'no show'.
Maybe as the day wears on
I'll be in a better frame of mind
With plenty of other material to share
That won't be hard to find.
You may wonder why I'm writing this
Well it's my 'therapy' to calm me down
It's not intellectual or insightful
I've never worn a mortar or gown.
But poetry's something I can do
It's my little 'escape'
A way of making me feel good
'Proper' poets I try to ape.
When I started scribbling
I was going to give tonight a miss
But that would only make me feel bad
Out of myself I'd take the piss.
Which is why I'm reading right now
In a room full of you lot
Pretending to be a poetic Paper Tiger
Giving it all I've got.
Dulwich Poet 15th July 2016
( I had a couple of almost finished poems, which I planned to read at the 'Paper Tiger' Open Mic poetry evening. On the bus to work I realsied I'd left my notebook at home, which really annoyed me... I wrote this on the bus, to calm myself down...& finished it later in the day)
Tuesday 5 July 2016
"Guernsey Pub Quiz" Haiku
Haiku syllables
Knowledge from the league above?
Yes! Back of the net!
Dulwich Poet 5th July 2016
Knowledge from the league above?
Yes! Back of the net!
Dulwich Poet 5th July 2016
( A Facebook friend, who supports Guernsey FC, who play in the division below Dulwich Hamlet, in the Ryman League, saw a haiku I posted on Facebook, that mentioned that the three lines should have a 5-7-5 syllables pattern. Not long after a pub quiz question was 'how many syllables in a haiku?' and she recalled my post! So this one is for her!)
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