They say carrots are good for you
Perfect for your sight
Not sure if that's been proven
Or even scientifically right.
They say wanking's the wrong thing
Which is not what I find
Apparently if you do it too much
It's supposed to make you blind.
I'll ignore the Old Wives' Tales
Best to let it pass
I'll finish with this question-
What happens if you wank with a carrot up your arse?
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2018
(A short one, based on contradiction!)
Tuesday 27 March 2018
"Doble Decker Rolls Royce"
How can you complain
At less than thirty quid return
Coach travel abroad's perfect
If you ain't got money to burn.
The seat's just as comfy
If I'd gone by Eurostar
And unlike heading out to Stanstead Airport
Victoria Coach Station's not too far.
Granted it was busy
When I was outward bound
Russian roulette to get a single double
But sharing I still slept sound.
Homeward back to Blighty
Daytime seats empty galore
It might take eight hours in total
But you can't ask for more.
Plenty of space to stretch out
Food and drink from Lidl
Even the toilet on the bus was clean
When I went for a Jimmy riddle.
Coach travel's perceived as nasty
For the great unwashed and the poor
Well I'm only guilty of one of the two
And if that's your view you're a bore.
I bet you baulk at going on a bus
Never mind a rush-hour train
To be honest I don't want to sit with you
Your loss is my gain.
These coaches are full of ordinary people
Simple going from A to B
Making European travel affordable
For the budget conscious like me.
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2018
(I wrote this on the coach from Brussels to London)
At less than thirty quid return
Coach travel abroad's perfect
If you ain't got money to burn.
The seat's just as comfy
If I'd gone by Eurostar
And unlike heading out to Stanstead Airport
Victoria Coach Station's not too far.
Granted it was busy
When I was outward bound
Russian roulette to get a single double
But sharing I still slept sound.
Homeward back to Blighty
Daytime seats empty galore
It might take eight hours in total
But you can't ask for more.
Plenty of space to stretch out
Food and drink from Lidl
Even the toilet on the bus was clean
When I went for a Jimmy riddle.
Coach travel's perceived as nasty
For the great unwashed and the poor
Well I'm only guilty of one of the two
And if that's your view you're a bore.
I bet you baulk at going on a bus
Never mind a rush-hour train
To be honest I don't want to sit with you
Your loss is my gain.
These coaches are full of ordinary people
Simple going from A to B
Making European travel affordable
For the budget conscious like me.
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2018
(I wrote this on the coach from Brussels to London)
"Keeping It Real"
I'm not one of those poets
Who wander lonely as a cloud
I'm simply write abut this, that and everything
Working class and proud.
I don't use too many sylables
Nor for fancy words do I care
And I'm not bothered if I upset you
When I decide to swear.
It stems from where I come from
And where I grew up
An East Dulwich council estate
And I don't give a flying fuck.
Poetry's not just for the posh ones
Bastion of the middle class
To be honest the most so-called educated
Are talking out of their arse.
I'm sure what I write down
Ain't always your cup of Rosy Lea
But that works both ways
As far as I can see.
Some of the stuff I hear
Goes right over my head
You probably think the same of mine
I'm sure it can be said.
I get a buzz of excitement
I almost want to cheer
Whenever a poet opens their mouth
And it's a working class accent I hear.
Poetry's for everyone
But we're scared off at school
The ill-conceived perception
That it's only for the nerdy fool.
I was in my late forties
When I was encouraged to pick up a pen
I've now been writing for five years
And won't put it down again.
Power to the people
Don't be a fool
Just take my word for it
Poetry's a strong working class tool.
The more I hear from my background
The more I feel strong
So dust down that old school notebook
And join the working class poetry throng!
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2018
(This one is basically about being a working class poet, and the misconceptions I find about poetry out there...)
Who wander lonely as a cloud
I'm simply write abut this, that and everything
Working class and proud.
I don't use too many sylables
Nor for fancy words do I care
And I'm not bothered if I upset you
When I decide to swear.
It stems from where I come from
And where I grew up
An East Dulwich council estate
And I don't give a flying fuck.
Poetry's not just for the posh ones
Bastion of the middle class
To be honest the most so-called educated
Are talking out of their arse.
I'm sure what I write down
Ain't always your cup of Rosy Lea
But that works both ways
As far as I can see.
Some of the stuff I hear
Goes right over my head
You probably think the same of mine
I'm sure it can be said.
I get a buzz of excitement
I almost want to cheer
Whenever a poet opens their mouth
And it's a working class accent I hear.
Poetry's for everyone
But we're scared off at school
The ill-conceived perception
That it's only for the nerdy fool.
I was in my late forties
When I was encouraged to pick up a pen
I've now been writing for five years
And won't put it down again.
Power to the people
Don't be a fool
Just take my word for it
Poetry's a strong working class tool.
The more I hear from my background
The more I feel strong
So dust down that old school notebook
And join the working class poetry throng!
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2018
(This one is basically about being a working class poet, and the misconceptions I find about poetry out there...)
"Putting Your Best Foot Forward"
I've got an ulcer on my foot
When I walk I'm in pain
Yet I'm going to do ten miles to Leatherhead
I'm must be totally insane.
I'm a glutton for punishment
I know I'm a total fool
But in my head it's what I must do
The 'wisdom' of Old Skool.
If I was to see my doctor
He'd say it's a non-starter
When I see him next Tuesday
He'll have my guts for garter.
I've got to lead by example
The 'Inter City 125' was my baby from the start
We really are too close now
For it all to fall apart.
I'm sure my foot will heal up
With a few days of agony I'll cope
I really have to do this
Otherwise I'll be giving up hope.
Not got a single sponsor
Not stretched out a begging bowl
I've got less than a week to do that
For me to reach my goal.
You may say & I know I'm stupid
But my conscience needs to be clear
I've only got to overcome
My genuine pain factor fear.
Every step I take
Gets us closer to Hamburg in July
When I wracked in agony
I jsut hope you don't see me cry.
Dulwich Poet 27th July 2018
( I have an ongoing problem with foot ulcer, that is currently an open sore. On Monday I am choosing to walk ten miles to raise money for both our Football Club tour in July and for an appeal for defibrillators in parks. In truth I am not looking forward to it...)
When I walk I'm in pain
Yet I'm going to do ten miles to Leatherhead
I'm must be totally insane.
I'm a glutton for punishment
I know I'm a total fool
But in my head it's what I must do
The 'wisdom' of Old Skool.
If I was to see my doctor
He'd say it's a non-starter
When I see him next Tuesday
He'll have my guts for garter.
I've got to lead by example
The 'Inter City 125' was my baby from the start
We really are too close now
For it all to fall apart.
I'm sure my foot will heal up
With a few days of agony I'll cope
I really have to do this
Otherwise I'll be giving up hope.
Not got a single sponsor
Not stretched out a begging bowl
I've got less than a week to do that
For me to reach my goal.
You may say & I know I'm stupid
But my conscience needs to be clear
I've only got to overcome
My genuine pain factor fear.
Every step I take
Gets us closer to Hamburg in July
When I wracked in agony
I jsut hope you don't see me cry.
Dulwich Poet 27th July 2018
( I have an ongoing problem with foot ulcer, that is currently an open sore. On Monday I am choosing to walk ten miles to raise money for both our Football Club tour in July and for an appeal for defibrillators in parks. In truth I am not looking forward to it...)
"Missing The Bus"
What makes you do it?
What's your desperation?
What horrors have you left behind?
What was your home nation?
They say you're after benefits
They say you want my job
They say you're an economic migrant
They say you're an asylum seeking yob.
I only saw desperation
I saw you crawl out of the boot of my bus
I saw the sadness in your eyes
I saw you create no fuss.
I pitied our coach driver
For the smile he had on his face
I pitied our coach driver
For his lack of humility and grace.
I know nothing about our stowaways
Howe their life has unravelled
Not a clue where they come from
Or how far they have travelled.
What their future holds
I haven't got a clue
But for the sake of a better life
I hope one day they make it through.
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2018
(On the coach back to London from Brussels the driver discovered an illegal in the luggage hold & kicked him out at our first stop. Two others jumped in without him seeing, and they were caught at Calais.)
What's your desperation?
What horrors have you left behind?
What was your home nation?
They say you're after benefits
They say you want my job
They say you're an economic migrant
They say you're an asylum seeking yob.
I only saw desperation
I saw you crawl out of the boot of my bus
I saw the sadness in your eyes
I saw you create no fuss.
I pitied our coach driver
For the smile he had on his face
I pitied our coach driver
For his lack of humility and grace.
I know nothing about our stowaways
Howe their life has unravelled
Not a clue where they come from
Or how far they have travelled.
What their future holds
I haven't got a clue
But for the sake of a better life
I hope one day they make it through.
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2018
(On the coach back to London from Brussels the driver discovered an illegal in the luggage hold & kicked him out at our first stop. Two others jumped in without him seeing, and they were caught at Calais.)
"They're Just There..."
Trees are not for hugging
Trees are there to climb
To grow things like apples
Anything else is a crime.
Apart from chopping down for wood
Surely that's not bad
Or making space for houses
And anything else that can be had.
One type that should be protected
Are the ones for conkers
If you're still allowed to play that game
Under health and safety bonkers.
When I was a kid I used to go up
Maybe a bit too far
Seeing how far I could reach
Aiming for a star.
I'd sit up there for hours
All on my own
Blocking out my little world
In my private zone.
In truth I'm not a nature lover
A tree's a tree to me
And if some get chopped down
That's ok to me.
Something to do with the ozone layer
Scientific explanations like that
Well I think the planet's already fucked
So I'm not interested in your chat.
I like them in the autumn
Kicking leaves in the park
And they can be quite good for cruising in
On Hampstead Heath after dark.
Truth be told I don't care about the planet
Even though I recycle a bit
Because once I'm brown bread and long gone
I won't be here to give a shit.
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2018
At heart I am not a nature lover, or a 'greenie'. I saw a comment about some people somewhere battling to save trees. And this poem about trees followed...)
Trees are there to climb
To grow things like apples
Anything else is a crime.
Apart from chopping down for wood
Surely that's not bad
Or making space for houses
And anything else that can be had.
One type that should be protected
Are the ones for conkers
If you're still allowed to play that game
Under health and safety bonkers.
When I was a kid I used to go up
Maybe a bit too far
Seeing how far I could reach
Aiming for a star.
I'd sit up there for hours
All on my own
Blocking out my little world
In my private zone.
In truth I'm not a nature lover
A tree's a tree to me
And if some get chopped down
That's ok to me.
Something to do with the ozone layer
Scientific explanations like that
Well I think the planet's already fucked
So I'm not interested in your chat.
I like them in the autumn
Kicking leaves in the park
And they can be quite good for cruising in
On Hampstead Heath after dark.
Truth be told I don't care about the planet
Even though I recycle a bit
Because once I'm brown bread and long gone
I won't be here to give a shit.
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2018
At heart I am not a nature lover, or a 'greenie'. I saw a comment about some people somewhere battling to save trees. And this poem about trees followed...)
"First Day Shakes"
It seems so long ago
But A.A. in Brussels brought it back
Is it really over fifteen years ago
That I finally decided to crack?
For what I pretended was normality
I could take no more
Lying in bed thinking I was dying
Poison out of every pore.
Complete alcohol poisoning
Of a real severe kind
Shaking, shivering and sweating
Going totally out of my mind.
I'll always be grateful to my mate Andy
Who I asked to take me to A.A.
I was scared shitless at that first meeting
When we went the very next day.
I'm not sure if he knows it
But early doors he was my rock
I genuinely mean that from the heart
So please try not to mock.
He'd been an old drinking partner
We were pissheads to the hilt
No idea why we're alkies
Just the way we're built.
No need to question why
The important thing is I got to stop
Whatever my failures are
Boozing was my prop.
Last night in Brussels
Sat in that English-speaking room
It brought me back to that first day
When giving up only spelt doom.
Yesterday the theme was Step Nine
Making amends to those you've hurt
Not something I've ever done
Too scared to rake up old dirt.
What might start as a short list
When would I stop writing it down
I dread to think how many dozens I've hurt
In every place and town.
There's times when I still miss it
Or is that madness in my head
For sure if I carried on getting pissed
I know for certain I'd be dead.
I'm just glad I stopped drinking
Over fifteen years now
All I want to do is not drink tomorrow
With that as my mantra and vow.
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2018
(On Monday night I went to an English speaking meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous in Brussels. It was a pleasure to be there, and it helped calm down my inner self as well as 'inspiring this poem)
But A.A. in Brussels brought it back
Is it really over fifteen years ago
That I finally decided to crack?
For what I pretended was normality
I could take no more
Lying in bed thinking I was dying
Poison out of every pore.
Complete alcohol poisoning
Of a real severe kind
Shaking, shivering and sweating
Going totally out of my mind.
I'll always be grateful to my mate Andy
Who I asked to take me to A.A.
I was scared shitless at that first meeting
When we went the very next day.
I'm not sure if he knows it
But early doors he was my rock
I genuinely mean that from the heart
So please try not to mock.
He'd been an old drinking partner
We were pissheads to the hilt
No idea why we're alkies
Just the way we're built.
No need to question why
The important thing is I got to stop
Whatever my failures are
Boozing was my prop.
Last night in Brussels
Sat in that English-speaking room
It brought me back to that first day
When giving up only spelt doom.
Yesterday the theme was Step Nine
Making amends to those you've hurt
Not something I've ever done
Too scared to rake up old dirt.
What might start as a short list
When would I stop writing it down
I dread to think how many dozens I've hurt
In every place and town.
There's times when I still miss it
Or is that madness in my head
For sure if I carried on getting pissed
I know for certain I'd be dead.
I'm just glad I stopped drinking
Over fifteen years now
All I want to do is not drink tomorrow
With that as my mantra and vow.
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2018
(On Monday night I went to an English speaking meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous in Brussels. It was a pleasure to be there, and it helped calm down my inner self as well as 'inspiring this poem)
"A Brussels Spring"
So many venues to choose from
May I recommend Jette
Plenty in this city to pick from
This will be a good bet.
Open on three sides
The other makes it a majestic ground
A stand and sweeping terrace
Going the rest of the way round.
Alluding to greater glories
Fading into the mists of time
Still a place to be proud of
In spite of the encroaching grime.
Although there was no programme
This is pure groundhopping delight
I couldn't have been happier
Falling in love at first sight.
If Carlsberg did non-league stadiums
This is what I think
Here's a random Belgian ground
That's worthy of their drink.
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2017
(On Sunday I went to a Brabant Provincial first division game, BX Brussels won 3-0, at the home of Jette, where they groundshare)
May I recommend Jette
Plenty in this city to pick from
This will be a good bet.
Open on three sides
The other makes it a majestic ground
A stand and sweeping terrace
Going the rest of the way round.
Alluding to greater glories
Fading into the mists of time
Still a place to be proud of
In spite of the encroaching grime.
Although there was no programme
This is pure groundhopping delight
I couldn't have been happier
Falling in love at first sight.
If Carlsberg did non-league stadiums
This is what I think
Here's a random Belgian ground
That's worthy of their drink.
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2017
(On Sunday I went to a Brabant Provincial first division game, BX Brussels won 3-0, at the home of Jette, where they groundshare)
"Derby Time"
It's third division football
During international week
My mate got me a comp for a Mons game
Which is all I really seek.
Not as in the freebie
But a new ground for a 'tick'
Royal Albert Elisabeth Mons
Was his perfect pick.
A former first division club
Fallen on hard times
Stadium only half modernised
As they attempt an upward climb.
The place is still lovable
A mix of old and new
And thanks to his gratis VIP tickets
We had a perfect halfway view.
I'm not sure if that was a good thing
Some of the skill was rather dire
To be honest it was easy to see
Why they're not going any higher.
Atmosphere manufactured
A full blown brass band
To be fair they were quite good
But failed to gee up our stand.
Over in the far corner
Away fans passionate and loud
Aided by illegal pyro
Doing their reputation proud.
Such a waste of passion
The game wasn't the best I've seen
Constant mislaid passes
Shame the players weren't half as keen.
Wayward shots aplenty
There was some football as well
Not much that will live in the memory
But hardly groundhopping hell.
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2017
(Last Saturday a Belgian friend took me to a third division local derby, Mons versus La Louviere. It was a one all draw)
During international week
My mate got me a comp for a Mons game
Which is all I really seek.
Not as in the freebie
But a new ground for a 'tick'
Royal Albert Elisabeth Mons
Was his perfect pick.
A former first division club
Fallen on hard times
Stadium only half modernised
As they attempt an upward climb.
The place is still lovable
A mix of old and new
And thanks to his gratis VIP tickets
We had a perfect halfway view.
I'm not sure if that was a good thing
Some of the skill was rather dire
To be honest it was easy to see
Why they're not going any higher.
Atmosphere manufactured
A full blown brass band
To be fair they were quite good
But failed to gee up our stand.
Over in the far corner
Away fans passionate and loud
Aided by illegal pyro
Doing their reputation proud.
Such a waste of passion
The game wasn't the best I've seen
Constant mislaid passes
Shame the players weren't half as keen.
Wayward shots aplenty
There was some football as well
Not much that will live in the memory
But hardly groundhopping hell.
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2017
(Last Saturday a Belgian friend took me to a third division local derby, Mons versus La Louviere. It was a one all draw)
"Stationary"
Waiting at Brussels North station
I'm sure there's better places to be
But this is the way I to travel
If it's Europe I want to see.
The coach will take quite a while
Good job I'm not in a hurry
In truth I'd go by train
If it wasn't for financial worry.
Waiting for my London Flixbus
There might be a delay
Some sort of taxi strike in Brussels
Their demo's a price I pay.
In years to come I might save some money
And always travel 'posh' Eurostar
Right now I'm content with snail pace coach
Just the way things in my life are.
At least I'm out and about
Things could be a lot worse
All I'm doing to kill time
Is scribble down this verse.
My life might be shitty
But at least I have some hope
This station full of people in sleeping bags
How on earth do they cope?
But for the grace of the proverbial
That could & should have been me on the street
I'm one of life's lucky ones
Who's hopefully got his addictions beat.
Tonight I'll be back home in London
Enjoyed my short break away
It might not be your idea of a holiday
But it keeps my demons at bay.
Dulwich Poet 27th July 2018
(I simply wrote this one to kill time while waiting for my coach back to London)
I'm sure there's better places to be
But this is the way I to travel
If it's Europe I want to see.
The coach will take quite a while
Good job I'm not in a hurry
In truth I'd go by train
If it wasn't for financial worry.
Waiting for my London Flixbus
There might be a delay
Some sort of taxi strike in Brussels
Their demo's a price I pay.
In years to come I might save some money
And always travel 'posh' Eurostar
Right now I'm content with snail pace coach
Just the way things in my life are.
At least I'm out and about
Things could be a lot worse
All I'm doing to kill time
Is scribble down this verse.
My life might be shitty
But at least I have some hope
This station full of people in sleeping bags
How on earth do they cope?
But for the grace of the proverbial
That could & should have been me on the street
I'm one of life's lucky ones
Who's hopefully got his addictions beat.
Tonight I'll be back home in London
Enjoyed my short break away
It might not be your idea of a holiday
But it keeps my demons at bay.
Dulwich Poet 27th July 2018
(I simply wrote this one to kill time while waiting for my coach back to London)
"Farewell My Friends"
Sat in the heart of European Brussels
It might be your idea of hell
But thanks to Farage & Boris
I'm here to say farewell.
The next time I come to this city
I'll be on the outside looking in
Even though I voted to stay
Our membership's in the bin.
Pandering to racism and gullibility
Did you vote to keep the NHS strong
It's now too late to change your mind
Realising you're wrong.
Some might say there's a leave argument
From left wingers sound of mind
I agree on most other things
But on this I think you're blind.
Better to change from within
No matter what your cause
Than shouting from outside
Not heard behind locked doors.
I'm not a master politician
Just an old skool leftie bloke
When Brexit claimed their victory
I thought it was a bad joke.
In all honesty it doesn't matter
Except how many Euros I get to my pound
Anything else that happens
It'll have no effect I've found.
Prices will go up
But I will still be poor
Hopefully most of the rights we've gained
Will stay from European law.
I'm still holding out in hope
That we have a referendum mark two
When enough people will see the error of their ways
And know what they have to do.
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2018
(I wrote this while sitting outside the European Parliament in Brussels, it's a sort of Remain poem, but not political by my standards)
It might be your idea of hell
But thanks to Farage & Boris
I'm here to say farewell.
The next time I come to this city
I'll be on the outside looking in
Even though I voted to stay
Our membership's in the bin.
Pandering to racism and gullibility
Did you vote to keep the NHS strong
It's now too late to change your mind
Realising you're wrong.
Some might say there's a leave argument
From left wingers sound of mind
I agree on most other things
But on this I think you're blind.
Better to change from within
No matter what your cause
Than shouting from outside
Not heard behind locked doors.
I'm not a master politician
Just an old skool leftie bloke
When Brexit claimed their victory
I thought it was a bad joke.
In all honesty it doesn't matter
Except how many Euros I get to my pound
Anything else that happens
It'll have no effect I've found.
Prices will go up
But I will still be poor
Hopefully most of the rights we've gained
Will stay from European law.
I'm still holding out in hope
That we have a referendum mark two
When enough people will see the error of their ways
And know what they have to do.
Dulwich Poet 27th March 2018
(I wrote this while sitting outside the European Parliament in Brussels, it's a sort of Remain poem, but not political by my standards)
Monday 19 March 2018
"Hitting The Post Again"
I got a slap on the wrist
Not hard but gentle and nice
Can I please reel in my poetry
I didn't have to think twice.
Seems my backlog of poetry
Is clogging up the 'Football Poets' site
I really don't want to upset them
When I'm struggling to sleep at night.
My Dulwich Hamlet in trouble
I don't need any more worry
Humble apologies to the webmasters
For publishing in a hurry.
Clogging your contributions
With my backlog of crime
I'm only 'guilty' of keenness
Sharing my love of rhyme.
See when you changed things over
Going all website state of the art
You didn't take into consideration
That I'm a useless Luddite olf fart.
Couldn't work out how to log in
So had to stop sharing my stuff
Not sure if that was good or bad
My poetry's might be total guff.
Now you've enticed me back
Loving giving it another go
I'll just take care with my backlog
Taking it nice and slow.
Dulwich Poet 19th March 2018
(I've finally started to post on the 'Football Poets' website, having not been able to work out how to log on, after they moved website. The hosts have now shown me how to do this, and I started posting my backlog...from 2016! But three a day was too many, and I've been asked to slow things down...oops!)
Not hard but gentle and nice
Can I please reel in my poetry
I didn't have to think twice.
Seems my backlog of poetry
Is clogging up the 'Football Poets' site
I really don't want to upset them
When I'm struggling to sleep at night.
My Dulwich Hamlet in trouble
I don't need any more worry
Humble apologies to the webmasters
For publishing in a hurry.
Clogging your contributions
With my backlog of crime
I'm only 'guilty' of keenness
Sharing my love of rhyme.
See when you changed things over
Going all website state of the art
You didn't take into consideration
That I'm a useless Luddite olf fart.
Couldn't work out how to log in
So had to stop sharing my stuff
Not sure if that was good or bad
My poetry's might be total guff.
Now you've enticed me back
Loving giving it another go
I'll just take care with my backlog
Taking it nice and slow.
Dulwich Poet 19th March 2018
(I've finally started to post on the 'Football Poets' website, having not been able to work out how to log on, after they moved website. The hosts have now shown me how to do this, and I started posting my backlog...from 2016! But three a day was too many, and I've been asked to slow things down...oops!)
"Rally of Hope"
It was was a 'blimey' moment
As I stood up on that park bench
Losing our Football Club
Would be such an emotional wrench.
Not sure quite what to say
Almost unable to speak
A sea of expectant faces
With our future so bleak.
A mass of scraves and banners
Putting our message across
At times I've been without hope
Practically at a loss.
When I woke it was snowing
Outside shivering cold
This was going to be a disaster
This rally would surely fold.
Once again I was pessimistic
About to be proved wrong
Goose Green taken over
By a heaving Pink & Blue throng.
A multitude of Hamlet
Not put off by the freeze
Realising this was a moment
That was ours to seize.
Fans from other clubs
Brighton, Millwall, Whitehawk,
Eastleigh, Palace, Arsenal
Hearing the likes of me talk.
I followed on from the Chairman,
An M.P., Councillor and a Lord
We all wanted the same thing
Putting Meadow to the sword.
This was much more than just football
But community of which we're part
I think I got my message across
Losing The Hamlet will break my heart.
As we turned toward the ground
The march was ever so long
Stretching back under the railway bridge
An anger of joyous song.
No idea is there really is an 'afterlife'
But I felt felt the spirit of 'Pa' Wilson & Edgar Kail
No to mention the ghosts of ten thousands of fans
It's for them we cannot fail!
Dulwich Poet 19th March 2018
(On Saturday, in very cold conditions, over one thousand two hundred people turned up to a 'Save Dulwich Hamlet' rally & march, protesting against the actions of our landlords Meadow Residential, who have locked Dulwich Hamlet football Club out of Champion Hill, the site of which has been our home, in various guises since 1902!)
As I stood up on that park bench
Losing our Football Club
Would be such an emotional wrench.
Not sure quite what to say
Almost unable to speak
A sea of expectant faces
With our future so bleak.
A mass of scraves and banners
Putting our message across
At times I've been without hope
Practically at a loss.
When I woke it was snowing
Outside shivering cold
This was going to be a disaster
This rally would surely fold.
Once again I was pessimistic
About to be proved wrong
Goose Green taken over
By a heaving Pink & Blue throng.
A multitude of Hamlet
Not put off by the freeze
Realising this was a moment
That was ours to seize.
Fans from other clubs
Brighton, Millwall, Whitehawk,
Eastleigh, Palace, Arsenal
Hearing the likes of me talk.
I followed on from the Chairman,
An M.P., Councillor and a Lord
We all wanted the same thing
Putting Meadow to the sword.
This was much more than just football
But community of which we're part
I think I got my message across
Losing The Hamlet will break my heart.
As we turned toward the ground
The march was ever so long
Stretching back under the railway bridge
An anger of joyous song.
No idea is there really is an 'afterlife'
But I felt felt the spirit of 'Pa' Wilson & Edgar Kail
No to mention the ghosts of ten thousands of fans
It's for them we cannot fail!
Dulwich Poet 19th March 2018
(On Saturday, in very cold conditions, over one thousand two hundred people turned up to a 'Save Dulwich Hamlet' rally & march, protesting against the actions of our landlords Meadow Residential, who have locked Dulwich Hamlet football Club out of Champion Hill, the site of which has been our home, in various guises since 1902!)
Wednesday 14 March 2018
"Going To Work"
No idea why the buses are bunching
I'm not one to complain
It means I've got my own seat
And now 'hold on' noise driving me insane.
Outside the sun is shining
As the traffic crawls through Forest Hill
Here I am quietly contented
Laid back and able to chill.
The journey might be dragging
Stop start, stop star, stop
But it's something I can cope with
Pen and notebook as my prop.
Scribbling down words
Perfect to wile away the time
I realize most of it's crap
My work's never called sublime.
Jotting down poetry
Bread and butter verse
It also clears my head
Keeping me out of a hearse.
With that I'm not joking
My rhymes keep me sane
The ruination of those I share with
Who might think it's a bane.
Bottom line is I'm near my destination
Another day of nine til six
With the bonus of arriving in a good mood
Thanks to my 185 poetry fix.
Dulwich Poet 14th March 2018
(Stuck in traffic, writing on the bus into work this morning...)
I'm not one to complain
It means I've got my own seat
And now 'hold on' noise driving me insane.
Outside the sun is shining
As the traffic crawls through Forest Hill
Here I am quietly contented
Laid back and able to chill.
The journey might be dragging
Stop start, stop star, stop
But it's something I can cope with
Pen and notebook as my prop.
Scribbling down words
Perfect to wile away the time
I realize most of it's crap
My work's never called sublime.
Jotting down poetry
Bread and butter verse
It also clears my head
Keeping me out of a hearse.
With that I'm not joking
My rhymes keep me sane
The ruination of those I share with
Who might think it's a bane.
Bottom line is I'm near my destination
Another day of nine til six
With the bonus of arriving in a good mood
Thanks to my 185 poetry fix.
Dulwich Poet 14th March 2018
(Stuck in traffic, writing on the bus into work this morning...)
"Struggling With A Semi"
I couldn't get excited
Try as hard as I might
My heart wasn't in it
Yet it was a semi-final last night.
Perhaps it was the setting
First game 'away' from Champion Hill
Strangely even though it was at Tooting
Not such a bitter pill.
Forced to be a refugee
Fleeing from our own home
Not knowing if we'll ever return
Or how long left to roam.
Won't miss the final at Aveley
Avoiding Billericay Town
Sidestepping their entire circus
Ringmaster Tamplin head clown.
More importantly last night
Was over two hundred through the gate
Credit to Metropolitan Police
They were really great.
Not a fan to cheer them
No supporters in sight
But they gave us their share of the split
In my book they're almost alright.
We might miss out on a final
Usually you'd say there's next year
More important is simply surviving
Going out of existence is my fear.
On Saturday we're marching
Holding a rally on Goose Green
We've had plenty of crisis in the past
This is as desperate as it's been.
Now forced to play on Sunday
Back over Mitcham way
As long as we have a team next season
I don't care how long we stay.
It's going to be an emotional weekend
We're on football's life support machine
All the anger than entails
Time to vent our spleen.
Still supporting our boys
As always sing and shout
But the loudest chant of all
Must simply be "MEADOW OUT!"
Dulwich Poet 14th March 2018
(Last night Dulwich Hamlet lost a home to Metropolitan Police in the semi final of the League Cup, nil nil, then losing the penalty shoot out 4-1) It was our first 'home' game away from Champion Hill, after being evicted by our landlords, Meadow Residential)
Try as hard as I might
My heart wasn't in it
Yet it was a semi-final last night.
Perhaps it was the setting
First game 'away' from Champion Hill
Strangely even though it was at Tooting
Not such a bitter pill.
Forced to be a refugee
Fleeing from our own home
Not knowing if we'll ever return
Or how long left to roam.
Won't miss the final at Aveley
Avoiding Billericay Town
Sidestepping their entire circus
Ringmaster Tamplin head clown.
More importantly last night
Was over two hundred through the gate
Credit to Metropolitan Police
They were really great.
Not a fan to cheer them
No supporters in sight
But they gave us their share of the split
In my book they're almost alright.
We might miss out on a final
Usually you'd say there's next year
More important is simply surviving
Going out of existence is my fear.
On Saturday we're marching
Holding a rally on Goose Green
We've had plenty of crisis in the past
This is as desperate as it's been.
Now forced to play on Sunday
Back over Mitcham way
As long as we have a team next season
I don't care how long we stay.
It's going to be an emotional weekend
We're on football's life support machine
All the anger than entails
Time to vent our spleen.
Still supporting our boys
As always sing and shout
But the loudest chant of all
Must simply be "MEADOW OUT!"
Dulwich Poet 14th March 2018
(Last night Dulwich Hamlet lost a home to Metropolitan Police in the semi final of the League Cup, nil nil, then losing the penalty shoot out 4-1) It was our first 'home' game away from Champion Hill, after being evicted by our landlords, Meadow Residential)
Monday 12 March 2018
"Survival"
People say if they cut me
I'd bleed Pink and Blue
I hate to disappoint
But it simply ain't true.
I'm as ordinary as everyone else
My claret's old fashioned red
I think it will just break my heart more
If my Football Club ends up dead.
Everything I've ever done
All I ever do
My beloved Dulwich Hamlet
I do it all for you.
Champion Hill's what defines me
It's my spiritual home
If we go out of existence
I'll never be so alone.
Greedy property developers
Throwing their toys out the pram
One hundred & twenty five years of history
They don't give a damn.
I'm so scared of the future
For both my Club and me
Just sell up Meadow Residential
That is my heartfelt plea.
In my 44 years of supporting
It's been mostly seasons of hurt
But that's no reason to treat us
Like a proverbial piece of dirt.
'Pa' Wilson began it all
Way back in 1893
From his little acorn
Grew the greatest oak tree.
Four times Amateur Cup winners
Best non-league ground in the land
How on earth did it come to this
From our own ground banned?
The last ten years have been special
Best crowds for fifty years
We really have built up too much
For it all to end in tears.
Exiled to our 'enemies'
Tooting & Mitcham now our 'home'
But I will follow us anywhere
No matter where we roam.
Like a dog is not just for Christmas
A football club's for life
It's just than in my case
It's also my surrogate wife!
Last year we almost got to Wembley
Two rounds from the arch
Now we're in intensive care
Fighting death with a rally and march.
No matter what happens
I've got to hide my hate
And if the worst comes to the worst
Know that I stepped up to the plate.
I don't care what standard
Where we are or Step Five
Constantly praying to my God Edgar Kail
Please keep Dulwich Hamlet alive.
Dulwich Poet 12th March 2018
(My team have been evicted from our stadium, and we don't know what the future holds. We are being shafted by a property company after they greedy plans were thrown out, due to not enough affordable housing. This blew up in November 2017, and we're still fighting on, and this is the first poem I've been able to write since then, without anger, revenge & negative thoughts in it...)
Dulwich Poet 12th March 2018
(My club, Dulwich Hamlet, have been locked out of our stadium by our landlords, who are Meadow Residential, property developers.)
I'd bleed Pink and Blue
I hate to disappoint
But it simply ain't true.
I'm as ordinary as everyone else
My claret's old fashioned red
I think it will just break my heart more
If my Football Club ends up dead.
Everything I've ever done
All I ever do
My beloved Dulwich Hamlet
I do it all for you.
Champion Hill's what defines me
It's my spiritual home
If we go out of existence
I'll never be so alone.
Greedy property developers
Throwing their toys out the pram
One hundred & twenty five years of history
They don't give a damn.
I'm so scared of the future
For both my Club and me
Just sell up Meadow Residential
That is my heartfelt plea.
In my 44 years of supporting
It's been mostly seasons of hurt
But that's no reason to treat us
Like a proverbial piece of dirt.
'Pa' Wilson began it all
Way back in 1893
From his little acorn
Grew the greatest oak tree.
Four times Amateur Cup winners
Best non-league ground in the land
How on earth did it come to this
From our own ground banned?
The last ten years have been special
Best crowds for fifty years
We really have built up too much
For it all to end in tears.
Exiled to our 'enemies'
Tooting & Mitcham now our 'home'
But I will follow us anywhere
No matter where we roam.
Like a dog is not just for Christmas
A football club's for life
It's just than in my case
It's also my surrogate wife!
Last year we almost got to Wembley
Two rounds from the arch
Now we're in intensive care
Fighting death with a rally and march.
No matter what happens
I've got to hide my hate
And if the worst comes to the worst
Know that I stepped up to the plate.
I don't care what standard
Where we are or Step Five
Constantly praying to my God Edgar Kail
Please keep Dulwich Hamlet alive.
Dulwich Poet 12th March 2018
(My team have been evicted from our stadium, and we don't know what the future holds. We are being shafted by a property company after they greedy plans were thrown out, due to not enough affordable housing. This blew up in November 2017, and we're still fighting on, and this is the first poem I've been able to write since then, without anger, revenge & negative thoughts in it...)
Dulwich Poet 12th March 2018
(My club, Dulwich Hamlet, have been locked out of our stadium by our landlords, who are Meadow Residential, property developers.)
Saturday 10 March 2018
"Claire"
I knew we were getting gentrified
But this is really too far
Smoked salmon sarnies on the bus
Talk about lah-di-dah!
She claims she's 'one of us'
Growing up on the Rockingham Estate
I'll bet she's never had jellied eels
Or pie and mash on her plate.
She 'pretends' to drop 'er aitches
So she can blend in
Not realising in 'New-Veau' Dulwich
Being posh ain't a sin.
Not that I'm knocking her
She loves our Pink & Blue
Always willing to muck in
Whatever there's to do.
Browbeating the players
Nagging in their ear
Not afraid of anyone
Especially after a beer.
In truth she's a special person
A fan with real heart
As long as you ignore the pink lipstick
Painted up like a tart!
Dulwich Poet 10th March 2018
(On the coach to Brightlingsea Regent on Saturday a Hamlet fan asked if I was going to write a poem about her. I scrawled this down on the journey home!)
But this is really too far
Smoked salmon sarnies on the bus
Talk about lah-di-dah!
She claims she's 'one of us'
Growing up on the Rockingham Estate
I'll bet she's never had jellied eels
Or pie and mash on her plate.
She 'pretends' to drop 'er aitches
So she can blend in
Not realising in 'New-Veau' Dulwich
Being posh ain't a sin.
Not that I'm knocking her
She loves our Pink & Blue
Always willing to muck in
Whatever there's to do.
Browbeating the players
Nagging in their ear
Not afraid of anyone
Especially after a beer.
In truth she's a special person
A fan with real heart
As long as you ignore the pink lipstick
Painted up like a tart!
Dulwich Poet 10th March 2018
(On the coach to Brightlingsea Regent on Saturday a Hamlet fan asked if I was going to write a poem about her. I scrawled this down on the journey home!)
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