I don't watch the telly
But was stunned when I heard the news
They may not have planted a bomb
But certainly lit the fuse.
Make no mistake at all
This was down to greed
The Establishment not giving a shit
About those most in need.
Let's have money for the opera
Never mind fire escapes for all
Subsidies for the rich
In Holland Park having a ball.
Who needs to pay for sprinklers
When cladding makes your block pretty
Three cheers for gentrification
In our modern day city.
I grew up on council estates
Until Maggie started flogging them off
All over London the rich taking over
Your 'neighbour' a toffee nosed cunt of a toff.
Now council stock's called 'social housing'
They've even changed the name
It's like if the Town Hall's your landlord
You've got to feel the shame.
By the time I left home
I had missed the boat
Not enough places to go round
Which got on my goat.
I don't blame the foreigners
Or 'sponging' unemployed
It was firmly the fault of the Tories
Who made sure Council Housing was destroyed.
My utopian dream was a penthouse
Top floor of a tower block
Complete with graffiti & broken lifts
I don't care if you mock.
That's why Grenfell hit me
It really broke my heart
Not deaths BUT MURDER so needless
Really tearing me apart.
I feel for those who perished
Collapsed on a smoke filled stair
As well as those who got out
Left with nothing but despair.
I'm not going to pray for you
If it worked you wouldn't die
I thought it was only those in hell
Who were supposed to fry.
I'm finding this hard to write
So emotional I want to choke
But that word actually means nothing
Without lungs filled with smoke.
Who will end up accountable?
Who will end up in the dock?
The guilty will retire through ill-heath
Pensions safe...what a shock!
The establishment protects their own
Many will get off scot-free
I'm not usually a vengeful bloke
But I'd swing them from a tree.
My only hope for the future
Is that they wake up, listen and learn
But deep down inside me I know
This won't be the last time my people burn.
Dulwich Poet 26th June 2017
(My response to the awful & totally preventable Grenfell Fire Disaster that killed so many people recently in west London)
Monday 26 June 2017
Friday 16 June 2017
"Just saying..."
Is it any wonder
When you consider
The only word
That rhymes
With STANZA
is Panzer
That there are
So many POETRY NAZIS
Who insist
There's a certain way to write?
Dulwich Poet 16th June 2017
(I know nothing about poetry, it's all just words to me & I am an ordinary working class poet. Yet 'poetry' is full of people who think there's a 'correct way' to write...This is for them...)
When you consider
The only word
That rhymes
With STANZA
is Panzer
That there are
So many POETRY NAZIS
Who insist
There's a certain way to write?
Dulwich Poet 16th June 2017
(I know nothing about poetry, it's all just words to me & I am an ordinary working class poet. Yet 'poetry' is full of people who think there's a 'correct way' to write...This is for them...)
Sunday 4 June 2017
"It's all Academic"
I've been all over with football
Seen some shitholes in my time
Why the fuck does Hamilton exist
It's a total crime.
You shouldn't judge a book by it's cover
But I do it with a place
I'm staring at Hamilton Bus Station
I know I've got a case.
The best thing was popping into Sainsbury's
Could pretend I was back home
Worst was going in to the centre
Deciding to have a roam.
It was a quiet Sunday evening
All the shops were shut
Even though I don't drink
I wish I was half cut.
All over the place
'P.R.' posters galore
Saying 'There's heart in Hamilton'
Sorry, I won't be back for sure!
Streets littered with shopping trolleys
Rather than paved with gold
Houses for less than a hundred grand
In estate agents unsold.
I was only here for a couple of hours
Am I too harsh and picky?
When I get back home to my London
I'll search Hamilton on Wiki
But I think my judgement's right
After my quick look around
Absolutely no desire to return
Now I've ticked the Accies football ground.
Dulwich Poet 4th June 2017
(I saw a match at New Douglas Park, the Accies womens team were at home. I made the 'mistake' of deciding to have a look at the area, rather than get a train back to Glasgow...)
Seen some shitholes in my time
Why the fuck does Hamilton exist
It's a total crime.
You shouldn't judge a book by it's cover
But I do it with a place
I'm staring at Hamilton Bus Station
I know I've got a case.
The best thing was popping into Sainsbury's
Could pretend I was back home
Worst was going in to the centre
Deciding to have a roam.
It was a quiet Sunday evening
All the shops were shut
Even though I don't drink
I wish I was half cut.
All over the place
'P.R.' posters galore
Saying 'There's heart in Hamilton'
Sorry, I won't be back for sure!
Streets littered with shopping trolleys
Rather than paved with gold
Houses for less than a hundred grand
In estate agents unsold.
I was only here for a couple of hours
Am I too harsh and picky?
When I get back home to my London
I'll search Hamilton on Wiki
But I think my judgement's right
After my quick look around
Absolutely no desire to return
Now I've ticked the Accies football ground.
Dulwich Poet 4th June 2017
(I saw a match at New Douglas Park, the Accies womens team were at home. I made the 'mistake' of deciding to have a look at the area, rather than get a train back to Glasgow...)
Thursday 1 June 2017
"It ain't Typhoo"
I'm not sure what I'm doing here
In a venue that's really naff
It makes poncy Shoreditch places
Look like a greasy spoon café.
A poetry night in a venue
That's dedicated to tea
I don't even drink the stuff
And it's not proper like PG.
I'm too scared to ask for the menu
Darjeeling's posh to me
All I want is a Pepsi
Instead of a cup of tea.
In the corner's an old Joanna
Like an Old Skool London boozer
This room's a million miles from that
But a beggar can't be a chooser.
All I want to do is read poems
Have I got the nerve
I'm tempted to do an about turn
And give tonight a swerve.
Perhaps I'll settle down
Once the poetry kicks in
Ignoring my pre-conceptions
Chucking them in the bin.
Truth is I really can't help it
Whenever I open my gob
Deep down I love it
Proud to be a poetry wanker
Working class snob!
Dulwich Poet 1st June 2017
I was in Glasgow, and went to a poetry Open Mic, at a place called the Tchain Ovna Tearoom, in the West End of Glasgow. Not quite what I'm used to...to say the least! It's certainly the only time in my life that I've drank a can of organic cola from South America!)
In a venue that's really naff
It makes poncy Shoreditch places
Look like a greasy spoon café.
A poetry night in a venue
That's dedicated to tea
I don't even drink the stuff
And it's not proper like PG.
I'm too scared to ask for the menu
Darjeeling's posh to me
All I want is a Pepsi
Instead of a cup of tea.
In the corner's an old Joanna
Like an Old Skool London boozer
This room's a million miles from that
But a beggar can't be a chooser.
All I want to do is read poems
Have I got the nerve
I'm tempted to do an about turn
And give tonight a swerve.
Perhaps I'll settle down
Once the poetry kicks in
Ignoring my pre-conceptions
Chucking them in the bin.
Truth is I really can't help it
Whenever I open my gob
Deep down I love it
Proud to be a poetry wanker
Working class snob!
Dulwich Poet 1st June 2017
I was in Glasgow, and went to a poetry Open Mic, at a place called the Tchain Ovna Tearoom, in the West End of Glasgow. Not quite what I'm used to...to say the least! It's certainly the only time in my life that I've drank a can of organic cola from South America!)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)