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Flagged Offside (52/7)

United 92 away

I was just young and black, in gold and green cuffs.
Sent to the wolves, a young cub full of cereal.
I was a serial offender, great pretender
Midfield or defender, I couldn’t remember
I just handed out oranges.
Water boy before The Waterboy
The captain was the manager’s son
A right little Lord Fauntleroy
Bib master, ball boy, cone king
Occasional substitute, should have swapped oranges for another fruit
Dammit I was everything!

Was there something they weren’t telling me?

King of the spelling bee wasn’t helping me
This thing called football required a different type of memory
I could dance better than any white kid raised on chicken, rum and reggae
I had the running man perfect but with a ball?
Ermmm okay…
I was not Steve Staunton or Stan Collymore
Ladies and gentleman in one game I nearly scored
I was young a foolish villa fan
But could I run with a ball?
Could I hit it true like I gave a damn?
Not even Obama would say Yes He Can!

For St Faith and St Laurence I was offside on the touch line
A whole lotta heart not skill was my punch line
When I tried to read the game I was tongue tied
Aston Villa couldn’t inspire pride
When they passed to me they looked petrified
Why couldn’t the clumsy demon be exorcised?
I was too much of a saint to pray abusive parents drank pesticide
Wearing claret on my sleeve I became blue
Praise would be wonder land but cats just asked
Who…are …you?

I am the black Vinnie Jones
A Roy keen to see red
Devil in a new shirt
Not that ugly black red and green striped
Muller branded
Would look better if puked yoghurt was splashed at.

Villa Park will never will be better than my hell on hallowed turf
Old Trafford is more than a theatre
When I watch them I am a dreamer
Scoring Hughes screamers
Weaving the blood of ogres with Ryan’s wing wizardry
My long legs will be David Gower’s bat on a tricky wicket
When that ball comes I’ll know where to stick it
Call me Michael Ricketts and you might hear crickets
I will be a chocolate Alex Ferguson with the master plan
12 years old I will be the man because I am
A United fan

They’ll no longer scold chocolate green and gold.
Paid my dues in the freezing cold
If I tackle you, reach for that 3 digit call
999, see you at City Hospital
Not arrogant just better, yes I’m that bold
I’m a united fan, don’t you know
Trap a ball, head it
Let’s take it slow
One day I might have Tor Andre’s flow
I might score a great goal or swing and slip
Then again…. running for number 10 …
I might just end …in the premiership

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Filed under 52 Week Challenge

Odd Future

They said I got a future, odd future gonna kill them all
Advice to ghettoise me, council hall
Playing a game, lacrosse, when they know I can ball
Don’t want to give the drummer some, it ain’t how they roll
All souped to speed past, it’s how they bowl
Call it autumn strike rate, my pedest fall
I’m red and sore, my head is raw
I’m not lion rich, I am bear paw
This eagle saw his eagle claw
Sharpened up his iron to blind them with a metaphor
It was cheesy season, like pizza breeze
Sold him every reason, one word sale of the 7 C’s
So he believes, he found his level,
Etched a sound, got an echo
Stamping ground, found a gecko
Angel in plain clothes, wrestled a devil
Took his head off, wouldn’t let go,
Decapitated, he was animated, selling vision
Restless chicken, he was built for giving
Resurrection, better living
This blessing was, born for stretching
That it did, yet the season stressed him
He got a taste, kept the bottle
American Histoy X’d him, full throttle
Called this apostle Chipotle flavoured Aristotle
Exotic carb the damned falafel too sweet to waffle,
Pigged out on truffles, learned to love the troubles
Hand n’ Heart like the Williams Sisters, Power doubles
Still its my level, not my arena, let me reign, I’ll bring Katrina
I need no pre-nup,
Caretaker climb, I only clean up
Yes they slimed me, Ghostbusters
Me myself and I, family trusts us
To make nice, this odd future
Tie love creation, karma’s suitors
To get it in, tailor Karma Sutra
To Make Life this odd future

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Filed under Just Living

Black Summer

Black Summer

Dismantling mantles

Like naked candles fornicating with my eyes

Dancing at left angles

Exiting my attention like a getaway hummer

Tiring my I’s because you ignited passion

Strange fruit to the unseen declared itself holy to me

purposely rallying freedom of action in flashes

Feeling like the Arthur Ashe’s hearth of ashes

Black Summer so fly and blind could bat her lashes

Crash this hard drive like a guilty tiger

I pause

Fought with thought

Wedded or sold

Stolen or bought this plot was lies to the core

Less was more like addition to infinity

Divinity declared the inner me is minimal

I am the formidable amoeba

Single cell warrior

Sickle cell sharpness

So sick I sell darkness to demons

Stone like Stevens

Smoked on the words some breathe in

Exhale vitamins like shisha was one of my 5 fruit a day

I danced with Summer like seasons don’t change

Put in an expenses claim for sun and met dark reign

Thunderous invigoration

Sweat emancipation

Thighs and sighs between the highs and byes

Giving me fives on all fours

Olives du jour I was nothing more than tasty

Seasonal treat you clutched at like straws but you didn’t wanna put your

Research In Motion

Just picked up and played with this blackberry

Torched my

Woods like an arsonist

Said look at the black arse on this

You’re never gonna parson this

I’m hard got you hard and arduous so melt

Broadsword from the blindside gave me sight to the last time I truly felt

Seeing red, seeing only black

Summer kissed but never had my back

L’s I stack like a small rack

Accumulating double deuces

Feeling fruitless scanning for seeds

Relying on saplings to evolve

Imploring mystery of misery like clues to re-solve

That’ll be my puzzle till throw it all away

like that’s that piece

And thats that peace

Like thats what ceased

Hasta Luego Love

Hola la vida

Call me black swan because I’ve been and become a white beater

Muddied waters of trust lust to be cleaner

For now

Autumn is falling to its knees

I’m

towering my single cells

Flaming amoeba

I

Outline mine

Drawing me nearer

Colouring my tears of languish in the shade of my blue

Printing BS everywhere including on the bottom of my shoe

Praying order my steps and a side order of you

Cos Black Summer

You are BS

Bloodcloth Stress

Bombo rahtid Stupidness

I couldn’t have ordered less honesty

So Black Summer honestly

Die

 

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Sorry

I’m sorry that I can simplify your insecurity complex

Even though your convex hips and curves give me dreamy nerves

My endings, my cables be rendering you as my Anna of the Green Gables

I’ve got a light bulb and a spanner

Clothes shopping with you would give me more smiles than a town planner given their own island, but I’m sorry

That you wobble more than your wobbly bits even though I think you’re curvy luscious, voluptuous and tight

Even though I show you Love Jones and recite A Blues for Nina like I was your Brotha to the night

I make you wish I was white and I’m sorry

Sorry that I’m just not swag enough

Ghetto black enough,

Want to hit it but not smack you tough

Gym rat, thank you and bang you gruff

Proper English, multi-level conversation but not slang enough

Just not African, just not Yardie

More Laurel & Hardy than Gyptian and Marley

Vibing like Fugee La in our Shangri la with Hugh Masakela

Seem I’m only on your radar for my niceness,

I’m not Osiris, you’re not Isis, a great catch but not a virus

I wrote my values on papyrus, so after the file is ingested

Know that I’m sorry that you’re just not interested

You took out me out with the insurance claim that you were interested,

So I means tested and found you cared to give me a little time without your mind or true get to know you time invested

Body banging like African Drums but once the lust was digested

The connection stung and felt like a rat infested hornets nest its

Like you’re being pestered with the bug of too good to be true

Like a hair dresser to uncle Fester your head you need to rake through

Notions of sweetness, meanness, the real man bleep test

Oh you’re not a risk taker…I’m sorry

You’re a lover not a faker, I’m sorry you’re just being honest, I’m sorry

I’ve got a bee in my bonnet but a bigger engine to move on from it

So I’m Sorry

 

I write a love letter to the beat because I really, really be

Sorry

Sorry that I’m the just next just trying to break a hex

You’re so vex like T-Rex because of your ex so to you I’m Mr Poetic X

Buck wild instead of bucking the trend

Good company and sex hoping the cycle will end

Screw it Buck it I’m sorry

Thought you were a diamond mine, you’re a neglected quarry

Sorry, sorry I’m really sorry

I can be the lorry that hits you from the blindside

Takes you off the road have you singing when we collide

Biffy Clyro

Instead you’d rather play Spyro

Showing a little flame while you play your game and shake your Ting Tings

That’s not my middle name,

21 seconds and you’re out for fame another notch called a Victory

Smoke without fire this story really isn’t Hickory Dickory

Jackanory cock story,

Pop that booty, lock me off and ride to glory while I cry poor me

See I’m richer for the experience, exposing your interest as desperate or delirious

I’m not really weary it’s just that my truth is always serious

I’m passionately clear because I romance in deed, I really want to need but because of want I bleed

So I’m sorry

 

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Not Fussed

After 12 months of insinuation
Periodic dating and grown man making
This connection I’m intimating
We should be integrating
Yet she put me on hold said she’s re-evaluating
Seems she went into her shell when I asked her to exclusively date me
We could have had a baby or been on Chelsea lately
I don’t rate me but I don’t want to be a talk show
All we’ve been is a talk show
And all our talks show is we’ll never be ready for each other
I’ve sunk dates like battleships but with her why’d I even bother
I could play big brother but it would be incest cos we’re more than friends
We’ll ne’er bump ends because we love playing dodgem and the challenge is a treat
Got me wondering why she claimed to be getting dusty on the shelf when her insecurity rendered her interest incomplete

You could have taken a leap but your no leopard though you’re coated in spots
Am I hot or not’s your million dollar question
You’re good enough not to be lesbian but you’re a thespian wrestling with too many choices of script
Tight ass and tight lipped but you’re comfort zone is fright light
I want to live in more than your dreams like Freddie Kruger on a Fright Night
Be the entertainment like Friday night fight night, kiss you till your brain tells my eyes night night through yours
Damn I’m tired of being the nice guy du jour
I’m not begging you to be mine, I’ll let my light shine hot and raw and
I’ll eclipse your vicarious visions of affinity with my femininity matured masculinity
And all though my pride is not easily disturbed, maybe my desperation was my the creation of my interest and not you being best as why I’ve never kicked you to the curb.
And while I’ve rarely cared what you’ve thought of me, maybe we’re not in to each other as we ought to be

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Last Words

Like the refrain of a keeper who got taken for a night stand

The last words of a fool brought the birth of a wise man

Shoulda would coulda became I am I can

I stand,

Up like a hyped fan, hardcore on the terraces

I man

Up on the premises, with knowledge of my nemesis

I ran, up in the heresies of Sadducees and philistines

Casting stone chips from the Exodus tablets to which they’ve been blind

Like medicine for ignorance water for chocolate

Too many yell F the world but I just sleep on top of it

Don’t care if my type will fit I’ve too many keys to be bored

Journalists use their qwerty to hurt me and liberals wont see my sword

Jabbing with rapier thrusts, raping and lusts, every phones a private eye

Which private I will eye trust

Political worlds are warring as our capital goes bust

It’s an economical vasectomy yet we’re all getting cuts

My country was on the cusp before she became a hoe for affection

See we’re already marked by the beast there’ll be no peace till the injection

I’m sniffing jailhouse rock to give my spirit an erection

Ignorance was bliss till I was damascussed by perfection

Now I kill myself to see the light like life was a rigged election

I see immaculate conceptions, conceptual connections masked by safe complexions

The end game is on reference Jay-Z and Obama deceptions

I’ll reach for a holy condom and call it supernatural protection

Only poets read poetry, communists destroyed the capital affection

Now Lupe Fiasco’s Dumb it down is our guitar’s plectrum

So Like the refrain of a keeper who got taken for a night stand

The last words of a fool brought the birth of a wise man

And Shoulda would coulda became I can for I am

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Filed under Just Living

Waste man’s world

I need a new concept and I know that its ridiculous

Excuse me lady can I take your particulars

You know I’m God’s gift a smoother St Nicholas

Say I’ll take you to the moon or nowhere in particular

Can I get in to your knickers love ah damn my shame

Your hole’s my goal so now you know my aim

If I put my hands on your frame I’ll get in to your brain

Tell you to to picture us and how we’ll be loves reign

Fill you with becoming though I’m no more than a cum stain

I’m a good man’s nemesis you’l be the mess that he gains

See I need a new concept and I know that its ridiculous

If I achieve my goal I promise I’ll stick to us

Screw and move my honesty wasn’t meant to be pernicious

It’s a dog eat dog world but your meat will be delicious

Cos I’m a fool

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Filed under Just Living, Relationships