If this was America
I'm sure I'd be long dead
If this was America
I'd have taken a bullet to my head.
If this was America
It's so easy to commit suicide
If this was America
I'm sure I would have died.
If this was America
I'd have blown out my brain
If this was America
I wouldn't worry about trying again.
If this was America
I'm sure I would have gone on a killing spree
If this was America
Guns would have been the end of me.
Fortunately This is England
And my thoughts stay in my head
I'm too scared of the pain of not succeeding
When I occasionally think of being dead.
I've said it before I'm not normal
But not crazy enough to be mad
I don't have a life but an existence
Which you might think rather sad.
But fortunately This IS England
And I've no guns to blow away my brain
My weapon of choice is poetry
Which I use to keep me sane.
Dulwich Poet 30th October 2017
(This one is about the ease of obtaining guns in America, and how easy it is to kill others or yourself over there as a result..)
Monday 30 October 2017
"Magyar Boy on the Bus"
Sat on the seat across from me
You're holding her hand
But before she got on this bus
I had it mentally planned.
Six foot tall and sexy
Almost my dream Magyar boy
Tonight in the darkness of my hostel dorm
You'll give secret five-knuckle joy.
I'll be quietly imagining
It was me not her you gave a kiss
I'll be dreaming of you giving me
Unimaginable holiday bliss!
How can you not realise
What a porn star you could be
You'd sell DVDs by the million
Thanks to lonely old men like me.
You're totally wasted with her
I can see the boredom in your eyes
I know you'll love it once you try it
Go on try me for size!
Dulwich Poet 30th October 2017
[There was a young Hungarian lad sat opposite me. 'Ruined' when his girlfriend got on! But nice to look at him while it lasted! ;-) ]
You're holding her hand
But before she got on this bus
I had it mentally planned.
Six foot tall and sexy
Almost my dream Magyar boy
Tonight in the darkness of my hostel dorm
You'll give secret five-knuckle joy.
I'll be quietly imagining
It was me not her you gave a kiss
I'll be dreaming of you giving me
Unimaginable holiday bliss!
How can you not realise
What a porn star you could be
You'd sell DVDs by the million
Thanks to lonely old men like me.
You're totally wasted with her
I can see the boredom in your eyes
I know you'll love it once you try it
Go on try me for size!
Dulwich Poet 30th October 2017
[There was a young Hungarian lad sat opposite me. 'Ruined' when his girlfriend got on! But nice to look at him while it lasted! ;-) ]
Sunday 29 October 2017
"Budofoki Fucker"
This is Hungarian Third Division
Does it matter where I sit?
For this game I'm forced in the corner
Stuck in the away bit.
How am I supposed to know
Which ticket booth is home or away
All I've really done
Is come to watch football today.
I was here early
A nice steward let me through
Realised I wasn't an away fan
But a football tourist
So he knew the right thing to do.
I tried to do a circuit
Got three quarters of the way round
Then the stroppy security gorilla spotted me
And forced me back to the away part of the ground.
I tried to explain I was a neutral
But language got in the way
Pushed toward the visitors bit
It's where I would have to stay.
To be honest I'm not complaining
Though he was miles rougher than Champion Hill
Those who moan about our stewards at home
Really need to chill.
So it's strictly segregated
At a ground ruled by fear
The intimidation factor's less than zero
Less than three hundred here.
Still I managed to get my photos
So I won't make a fuss
All I've to worry about now
Is how long I'll wait for my bus.
Dulwich Poet 29th October 2017
(On Sunday 29th October I went to a Hungarian third division match, there were probably no more than 300 people there, and I accidentally got a ticket for the away bit. One steward made me go to the away bit, when I tried to walk round the ground, and when in the away pen, other stewards let me through to the away bit. When I got to the other side of the ground the same earlier steward, was pushing me round to the away bit, giving it large in Hungarian, he was what the word 'muggy cunt' was invented for, but built like the proverbial brick shit house, I did as he said!)
Does it matter where I sit?
For this game I'm forced in the corner
Stuck in the away bit.
How am I supposed to know
Which ticket booth is home or away
All I've really done
Is come to watch football today.
I was here early
A nice steward let me through
Realised I wasn't an away fan
But a football tourist
So he knew the right thing to do.
I tried to do a circuit
Got three quarters of the way round
Then the stroppy security gorilla spotted me
And forced me back to the away part of the ground.
I tried to explain I was a neutral
But language got in the way
Pushed toward the visitors bit
It's where I would have to stay.
To be honest I'm not complaining
Though he was miles rougher than Champion Hill
Those who moan about our stewards at home
Really need to chill.
So it's strictly segregated
At a ground ruled by fear
The intimidation factor's less than zero
Less than three hundred here.
Still I managed to get my photos
So I won't make a fuss
All I've to worry about now
Is how long I'll wait for my bus.
Dulwich Poet 29th October 2017
(On Sunday 29th October I went to a Hungarian third division match, there were probably no more than 300 people there, and I accidentally got a ticket for the away bit. One steward made me go to the away bit, when I tried to walk round the ground, and when in the away pen, other stewards let me through to the away bit. When I got to the other side of the ground the same earlier steward, was pushing me round to the away bit, giving it large in Hungarian, he was what the word 'muggy cunt' was invented for, but built like the proverbial brick shit house, I did as he said!)
"Aimless in Budapest"
It's eight o'clock Sunday morning
I'm travelling on a tram
No idea where it's going
Couldn't give a damn.
I'm a poor tourist
No plan for when it starts to pour
Other than riding public transport
Too wet to really explore.
Trying to look out of the window
Steamed up and covered with rain
I'm supposed to be normal
Surely there's something wrong with my brain!
I'll sit here til we reach the 'mystery destination'
See what's the last stop on the line
Once this blasted rain stops
Everything will be fine.
All I really want to do
Is wander aimlessly round the streets
To be honest ending up at Szell Kalmon Ter
Wasn't going to be one of my treats.
Not much here to snap
It's just far too wet
Fortunately there's a Metro station
So underground I'm going to get.
There's a stop I've been eyeing
Captivated by them name
'Puskas Ferenc Stadion' it's called
After the greatest in the game.
How can I resist that
Pissing down or not
My only regret now is the weather
Wishing it was sunny and hot.
Except...riding up the escalator
My cheap brolly blown apart
Turn toward the stadium
I'm such a stupid fart.
For it's long since flattened
Just a building site
There'd still be nothing to see
If it was dry and bright.
I really should have known this
But a least it's my 'secret' mistake
Pretending to be a football grounds expert
No-one will know I'm a fake!
Dulwich Poet 29th October 2017
(On holiday in Budapest, there was heavy rain, and I was just sitting on buses and train going round the city. I got off at the stadiom named after Ferenc Puskas, hoping there might be a statue or something outside. Instead there was nothing...it's been demolished..and isn't sue to be completed until 2019 at the least! D'oh!)
I'm travelling on a tram
No idea where it's going
Couldn't give a damn.
I'm a poor tourist
No plan for when it starts to pour
Other than riding public transport
Too wet to really explore.
Trying to look out of the window
Steamed up and covered with rain
I'm supposed to be normal
Surely there's something wrong with my brain!
I'll sit here til we reach the 'mystery destination'
See what's the last stop on the line
Once this blasted rain stops
Everything will be fine.
All I really want to do
Is wander aimlessly round the streets
To be honest ending up at Szell Kalmon Ter
Wasn't going to be one of my treats.
Not much here to snap
It's just far too wet
Fortunately there's a Metro station
So underground I'm going to get.
There's a stop I've been eyeing
Captivated by them name
'Puskas Ferenc Stadion' it's called
After the greatest in the game.
How can I resist that
Pissing down or not
My only regret now is the weather
Wishing it was sunny and hot.
Except...riding up the escalator
My cheap brolly blown apart
Turn toward the stadium
I'm such a stupid fart.
For it's long since flattened
Just a building site
There'd still be nothing to see
If it was dry and bright.
I really should have known this
But a least it's my 'secret' mistake
Pretending to be a football grounds expert
No-one will know I'm a fake!
Dulwich Poet 29th October 2017
(On holiday in Budapest, there was heavy rain, and I was just sitting on buses and train going round the city. I got off at the stadiom named after Ferenc Puskas, hoping there might be a statue or something outside. Instead there was nothing...it's been demolished..and isn't sue to be completed until 2019 at the least! D'oh!)
Wednesday 4 October 2017
"Who's Judging?"
Some thing really annoy me
Even though I don't know the law
And that's when some discriminates
By only punishing the poor.
You've got to think of her future
Never mind the crime
She's Oxford University don't you know
Too talented to do time.
high on drink and drugs
All she did was stab her bloke
If you want to avoid jail
Maybe stick to Diet Coke.
Never mind the youngster
Who's got a different colour skin
Dropped out of school at fifteen
Consigning their future to the bin.
If this was a black working class youngster
Would you have been spared a prison cell
I know nothing about applying the law
But know the answer well.
I'm not one of these 'do-good softies'
Who plead a twentieth 'second chance'
Whether it's a wannabe gangster or clever student
It should be jail without a glance.
Middle class and privileged
Shouldn't be a 'get out of jail' card
When being sentenced by an old duffer
Is based on how posh your yard.
All I want is fairness
When you do your sentencing task
Basing punishment on deed not upbringing
Is that really too much to ask?
Dulwich Poet 4th October 2017
(Oxford University student was recently spared jailed as it might harm her future prospects after stabbing her boyfriend while high on drink and drugs)
Even though I don't know the law
And that's when some discriminates
By only punishing the poor.
You've got to think of her future
Never mind the crime
She's Oxford University don't you know
Too talented to do time.
high on drink and drugs
All she did was stab her bloke
If you want to avoid jail
Maybe stick to Diet Coke.
Never mind the youngster
Who's got a different colour skin
Dropped out of school at fifteen
Consigning their future to the bin.
If this was a black working class youngster
Would you have been spared a prison cell
I know nothing about applying the law
But know the answer well.
I'm not one of these 'do-good softies'
Who plead a twentieth 'second chance'
Whether it's a wannabe gangster or clever student
It should be jail without a glance.
Middle class and privileged
Shouldn't be a 'get out of jail' card
When being sentenced by an old duffer
Is based on how posh your yard.
All I want is fairness
When you do your sentencing task
Basing punishment on deed not upbringing
Is that really too much to ask?
Dulwich Poet 4th October 2017
(Oxford University student was recently spared jailed as it might harm her future prospects after stabbing her boyfriend while high on drink and drugs)
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