"The Man Who hates Poetry"

Don't you think it's somewhat ironic
That I've got you as mate
Because of that thing called poetry
Which you profess to hate.
Something you despise so much
But you host your own poetry night
I reckon you're telling porkies
'Cos that doesn't sound right.
Maybe you're having a 'pop' at the circuit
The ones who are up their own arse
But for everyone of that type
There's a dozen who are class.
Although you & me are different
I think we can relate
Even though I'm a poofter
We both like to tell it straight.
If something's shit you say so
You won't put on a front
None of this poetry politeness
You call a cunt a cunt!
The first time I saw you
It was so much more than spoken word
You were absolutely mental
But not in a way that's absurd.
Every time I see you
It's a genuine joy
Sounding exactly like me
South London man and boy.
Hidden in my reading
I'm still so nervous inside
Intimidated by 'posh' voices
Hearing you fills me with pride.
Poetry's not just for the educated
It's not something to mock
It for you & me to be proud of
Proper working class council estate stock.
When I see you on stage
Dropping aitches in your act
I have a 'one of us' moment
Not made up...that's a fact.
You might not realise it
But you're an inspiration to poets like me
Breaking free from our shackles
What you get is what you see.
And every time I see you
The welcome's always warm
You shine a light for us working class
And it's an honour to see you perform.

Dulwich Poet 19th May 2015

(There's a bloke on the London Poetry circuit called David Turner, he's working class like me, and he co-hosts a monthly poetry night called 'Silence found a Tongue', as well as doing poetry podcasts. Tonight's poetry night is also his birthday, so a number of us regulars are writing a poem about him. This is my one...)