I was on a bus this morning
Started to scribble something down
What a fuss over nothing
I feel a bit of a clown...
The only problem is
That isn't entirely true
I was genuinely fearful
And did what I had to do.
Hand on heart I'm a bit shocked
By how much I care
He's a good mate and all that
So much love is there.
Sharing my worries with mates
Desperately trying to cope
And there was pessimistic me
Practically giving up hope.
I know we've argued down the years
But also had such fun
In truth I don't have many friends
When all is said and done.
Emotions all over the place
Thinking your mate's done himself in
Expecting to identify a body
Not knowing if he had a next-of-kin.
I got a bell on the way down at Dartford
He will Old Bill & the Crisis team
Honest mate if you'd have seen me
You'd have been amazed by my beam!
I know you won't believe me
Blame emotions still raw
But know you were alive
Was better than beating t****g the day before!
I can't pretend to understand your illness
To me it looks as there's not much wrong
All I can tell you is to hang on in there
Old Skool love be strong!
Dulwich Poet 27th December 2017
(This is a 'follow-on' poem, after I heard a god friend of mine had not attempted to kill himself...)
Wednesday 27 December 2017
"Scared to Death"
Tony you fucking scare me
What am I supposed to say
You're my bestest Marmite mate
And I don't know if you're alive today.
I don't care if you're crazy
No matter how mental mad
For underneath all your posturing
I know you're more good than bad.
I just love your company
Almost as much as I love your dog Kail
Perhaps they turned you too crazy
By diagnosing you in jail.
I'm scared you've topped yourself
And now you're at rest
I really hope you haven't
But you will know what's best.
We've so much to do
If only we had money
Got so many grounds to visit
Even though life's not sweetness and honey
.........................................................................
(A good mate of mine has mental health problems. When I wrote this I genuinely though he had topped himself. I was on my way down to where he lives in Kent expecting to have to identify a body. This poem is 'unfinished'...I got a phone call while at Dartford, waiting to change trains, telling me that he was 'ok', being seen to by police and his local crisis mental health team. In effect this is an 'unfinished' poem...)
What am I supposed to say
You're my bestest Marmite mate
And I don't know if you're alive today.
I don't care if you're crazy
No matter how mental mad
For underneath all your posturing
I know you're more good than bad.
I just love your company
Almost as much as I love your dog Kail
Perhaps they turned you too crazy
By diagnosing you in jail.
I'm scared you've topped yourself
And now you're at rest
I really hope you haven't
But you will know what's best.
We've so much to do
If only we had money
Got so many grounds to visit
Even though life's not sweetness and honey
.........................................................................
(A good mate of mine has mental health problems. When I wrote this I genuinely though he had topped himself. I was on my way down to where he lives in Kent expecting to have to identify a body. This poem is 'unfinished'...I got a phone call while at Dartford, waiting to change trains, telling me that he was 'ok', being seen to by police and his local crisis mental health team. In effect this is an 'unfinished' poem...)
Tuesday 26 December 2017
"Cake Ache"
There's a programme on the telly
It's called 'The Walking Dead'
In truth I've never seen it
It has to be said.
But now I've genuinely seen it
With my very own eyes
Cook, cook and cook more, Eddie
His eyes rolling to the sky.
There's this thing called 'revenge'
It's a dish best served cold
All because he didn't eat cake
A mistake one year old.
Slaving in the kitchen
My sister cracking the whip
Poor old Eddie
Just wants to lie down and kip!
Time to carve the turkey
Have you done the sprouts
Have you done the carrots
Is all she barks and shouts.
Christmas should be peaceful
A time to relax and rest
But he's too scared to do that
Here comes the turkey breast.
Eddie's come from his daughter
With a huge tray of macaroni cheese
The silly man thought that would be enough
To sit down and rest as you please.
Get to work on that stuffing
Slice up that plantain
Next are the yummy yum yams
So true 'no pain, no gain'.
Not long now we're all arriving
Is this what they mean by Christmas cheer
Poor old Eddie's hardly got the energy
To crack open a tin of beer.
As we tackled the food mountain
We held our breath with cake on his plate
As...YES! Eddie's finally redeemed himself
By spooning it down a year too late!
Dulwich Poet 26th December 2017
(Last year on Christmas Day my sister's partner couldn't manage any of her home made cake. I wrote a poem about it. Here's the '2017 revenge' poem!)
It's called 'The Walking Dead'
In truth I've never seen it
It has to be said.
But now I've genuinely seen it
With my very own eyes
Cook, cook and cook more, Eddie
His eyes rolling to the sky.
There's this thing called 'revenge'
It's a dish best served cold
All because he didn't eat cake
A mistake one year old.
Slaving in the kitchen
My sister cracking the whip
Poor old Eddie
Just wants to lie down and kip!
Time to carve the turkey
Have you done the sprouts
Have you done the carrots
Is all she barks and shouts.
Christmas should be peaceful
A time to relax and rest
But he's too scared to do that
Here comes the turkey breast.
Eddie's come from his daughter
With a huge tray of macaroni cheese
The silly man thought that would be enough
To sit down and rest as you please.
Get to work on that stuffing
Slice up that plantain
Next are the yummy yum yams
So true 'no pain, no gain'.
Not long now we're all arriving
Is this what they mean by Christmas cheer
Poor old Eddie's hardly got the energy
To crack open a tin of beer.
As we tackled the food mountain
We held our breath with cake on his plate
As...YES! Eddie's finally redeemed himself
By spooning it down a year too late!
Dulwich Poet 26th December 2017
(Last year on Christmas Day my sister's partner couldn't manage any of her home made cake. I wrote a poem about it. Here's the '2017 revenge' poem!)
"Thugs & Muggers"
This is the big one
The Boxing Day derby's here
They're right near the bottom
So this game should hold no fear.
This is the one I want to win most
More than any other game
And if they turn us over
I'll only have myself to blame.
Did I cross the road too early
Or sit on the wrong tram seat?
Wear the unlucky pair of socks
My fault if we get beat!
I don't care about Billericay
For Tamplin I don't give a toss
It will break my heart today
If we finish with a loss.
This is the one that gets me buzzing
Fills my heart with joy
The big one I always want to win
As a Dulwich fan man and boy.
I don't care if it's scrappy
If we can't string together a pass
I'll settle for a one-nil own-goal
Rebounding off someone's arse.
No need to be greedy
Though I want to crush them out of sight
A repeat of St. Paul Harding's Day*
Six one would make my night.
So come on Dulwich Hamlet
This could be our swansong before we fold
How about leaving me with a memory
For me to cherish when I get old?
Dulwich Poet 26th December 2017
(I wrote this on the way to the Dulwich Hamlet Boxing Day game away to our bitter rivals t*****g & mitcham united, AKA the thugs & muggers)
*Boxing Day 1984: Dulwich Hamlet 6, thugs & muggers 1-Paul Harding hat-trick.
The Boxing Day derby's here
They're right near the bottom
So this game should hold no fear.
This is the one I want to win most
More than any other game
And if they turn us over
I'll only have myself to blame.
Did I cross the road too early
Or sit on the wrong tram seat?
Wear the unlucky pair of socks
My fault if we get beat!
I don't care about Billericay
For Tamplin I don't give a toss
It will break my heart today
If we finish with a loss.
This is the one that gets me buzzing
Fills my heart with joy
The big one I always want to win
As a Dulwich fan man and boy.
I don't care if it's scrappy
If we can't string together a pass
I'll settle for a one-nil own-goal
Rebounding off someone's arse.
No need to be greedy
Though I want to crush them out of sight
A repeat of St. Paul Harding's Day*
Six one would make my night.
So come on Dulwich Hamlet
This could be our swansong before we fold
How about leaving me with a memory
For me to cherish when I get old?
Dulwich Poet 26th December 2017
(I wrote this on the way to the Dulwich Hamlet Boxing Day game away to our bitter rivals t*****g & mitcham united, AKA the thugs & muggers)
*Boxing Day 1984: Dulwich Hamlet 6, thugs & muggers 1-Paul Harding hat-trick.
Thursday 21 December 2017
"Poetry Virgin No More"
Badahur, Tony, Knuckles
Whatever name you choose
Tonight I'm so proud of you
Stepping up in your poetry shoes.
The first time's always daunting
Reading at an Open Mic
But you really grew into it
What's there not to like?
Why are we so scared of sharing
Jotting down a thought
This poetry lark's for everyone
Not just the well-spoken educated sort.
I can't wait to hear you next time
Whenever that may be
Your poetry deserves a wider audience
Not just a sad old fucker like me!
No need to feel inferior
Or fear a posh much-syllabled word
Working class poetry
Is crying out to be heard.
Have you heard the saying
The pen is mightier than the sword
Arise and get up on that stage
You're a poet not a fraud!
Dulwich Poet 21st December 2017
(A mate of mine read at an Open Mic for the first time tonight in Chatham, in Kent)
Whatever name you choose
Tonight I'm so proud of you
Stepping up in your poetry shoes.
The first time's always daunting
Reading at an Open Mic
But you really grew into it
What's there not to like?
Why are we so scared of sharing
Jotting down a thought
This poetry lark's for everyone
Not just the well-spoken educated sort.
I can't wait to hear you next time
Whenever that may be
Your poetry deserves a wider audience
Not just a sad old fucker like me!
No need to feel inferior
Or fear a posh much-syllabled word
Working class poetry
Is crying out to be heard.
Have you heard the saying
The pen is mightier than the sword
Arise and get up on that stage
You're a poet not a fraud!
Dulwich Poet 21st December 2017
(A mate of mine read at an Open Mic for the first time tonight in Chatham, in Kent)
Wednesday 20 December 2017
"Bah Humbug & Proud!"
In truth I don’t like Christmas
How I hate this time of year
Just want the whole bloody thing over
Never had much cheer.
Go ahead and enjoy it
Just accept it’s not for me
I’m actually quite proud of the fact
I’ve never had a Christmas tree.
You say: “Come on smile, it’s Christmas”
Ask where’s that happiness and cheer
I prefer less of that right now
If you could spread it round all year.
How many people are there out there
With this forced jollity unable to cope
The only way they are able to do so
Is hanging in a noose on a rope?
In a way I am lucky
I can go to family for free food
No cards or presents delivered
It just me and not deliberately rude.
I’m not going to go totally skint
Spending money I haven’t got
Just because I’m playing Mr. Scrooge
Doesn’t mean I’m not happy with my lot.
Dinner at my sisters
Loads of meat & spuds on my plate
And already being a fat bastard
It don’t matter if I put on weight.
But I’d be just as content
In my rented room only me
Snacking away on junk food
Watching a library DVD.
In truth I only want one thing for Christmas
Seeing my team win on Boxing Day
Three points off the Thugs & Muggers keeping me going
Until the season ends in May.
I’m equally at ease home alone
Or sat round the family table
The only thing that ruins this time of year for me
Dulwich Poet 20th December 2017
( My take on Christmas!)
How I hate this time of year
Just want the whole bloody thing over
Never had much cheer.
Go ahead and enjoy it
Just accept it’s not for me
I’m actually quite proud of the fact
I’ve never had a Christmas tree.
You say: “Come on smile, it’s Christmas”
Ask where’s that happiness and cheer
I prefer less of that right now
If you could spread it round all year.
How many people are there out there
With this forced jollity unable to cope
The only way they are able to do so
Is hanging in a noose on a rope?
In a way I am lucky
I can go to family for free food
No cards or presents delivered
It just me and not deliberately rude.
I’m not going to go totally skint
Spending money I haven’t got
Just because I’m playing Mr. Scrooge
Doesn’t mean I’m not happy with my lot.
Dinner at my sisters
Loads of meat & spuds on my plate
And already being a fat bastard
It don’t matter if I put on weight.
But I’d be just as content
In my rented room only me
Snacking away on junk food
Watching a library DVD.
In truth I only want one thing for Christmas
Seeing my team win on Boxing Day
Three points off the Thugs & Muggers keeping me going
Until the season ends in May.
I’m equally at ease home alone
Or sat round the family table
The only thing that ruins this time of year for me
Is that lazy ‘killjoy’ label.
I’m happy to be happy
In my non-Christmassy ordinary way
And if you can’t accept that
Then fuck off on Santa’s sleigh!
I’m happy to be happy
In my non-Christmassy ordinary way
And if you can’t accept that
Then fuck off on Santa’s sleigh!
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