"Second Chance Saloon"

Seven per cent survival
Luck was really on my side
The day I was put in an ambulance
And taken for a ride.
One moment I'm at football
Watching the Royal Engineers FC
Next thing I'm lying on the floor
And it's the end of me.
Completely by a fluke
Collapse at an Army football ground
Fortunately there's trained soldiers
Who give my chest a pound.
No doubt if this was America
I'd be left for dead
Checking if I've got insurance
Before putting me in a bed.
I've been extremely lucky
No damage to my brain
Though I can't quite work out
How they think I'm still sane.
I can't remember the moment
When I was lying on the floor
Never mind the opposition 
Or even what was the score.
On the plus side there's no recollection
Of a tunnel full of light
Looking down at the scene from above
As I bade my time on earth goodnight.
That means there's no heaven
As far as I can tell
No dreams of flames around me
Which means no sign of hell.
So many good luck messages
When they didn't know I'd survive
Even people I'd never met
Willing me to be alive.
I still can't get used to it
The fact I should be brown bread
All sorts of weird thoughts
Bouncing round in my head.
Told I'm supposed to be nicer
Glad my heart got to start
But in truth I'm still as nasty
As that little Simpson whose name is Bart.
I'll always hate my enemies
Hoping they die before me
I can't change the way I am
What will be will be.
Having said that there's so many friends
Didn't realise how much they care
I can't grasp how popular I am
In the footballing world out there.
I've no idea why I pulled through
That fickle hand of fate
But it's made me love even more
The close few friends I call a mate.
I am a little bit more grateful
For dodging my funeral just yet
To those men from the Royal Engineers
I'll always be in your debt.

Dulwich Poet 8th June 2019

(On Friday 1st February 2019 I was visiting a friend in Chatham & we went to the Royal Engineers football ground to see them in an Army Football cup tie, with the proverbial one man & a dog in attendance. I collapsed with a heart attack & it was only through my friend getting help from solders present that saved my life. I was in intensive care & am very lucky to be alive)

"Poetry"

I haven't written a poem for ages
What a fucking delight
Can't beat a bit of rhyming
To go & make my night.
It's something that I enjoy
A little thing I do
My own private bit of therapy
Where I share my point of view.
I've got no proper qualifications
Nothing fancy like English Lit
Just poetry as a hobby
And writing down a bit. 
It took me quite a while
To realise a poet's what I am
If what I read out's not for you
I really don't give a damn.
Just because I'm not educated
Or sound all middle class
Doesn't make me any less of a poet
You're talking out of your arse.
Poetry's for us all
Even those Council Estate bred
The thought that we don't belong
We've got to get out of our head.
Don't dare turn up your nose
Because I swear out loud
I can still say that you're a cunt
And be fucking proud!
I couldn't tell you what I write
No idea of poetry form
It's all just loads of words to me
Whatever rules are the norm.
You might even say that I cheat
When I use a dictionary of rhyme
When you've got a limited vocabulary 
Is that such a crime?
I can't do my poetry fluffy
All daffodils and walking in a field
We can still do our own poetry
Even if we're not well heeled.
Time to get used to us
We're working class and we swear
If you tut and disapprove
Do you think I fucking care?
We're the voices of the terrace
The boys from the Council Estate
We're your worst fucking nightmare
The poets you cunts all hate!

Dulwich Poet 8th June 2019

( I'm a working class poet, & I sometimes get the feeling that poets like me are looked down on...)