Alistair Wilkinson Author
Alistair WilkinsonAuthor

My Time, My Money

Fenty-mandias, a schoolteacher said. 

I looked down, sneered, sent him back to bed. 

That was my time and it was my money. 

What's this nonsense about traps and honey? 

Look on my works, I cut everyone’s pay!  

Couplets don’t win three points on Saturday. 

Nor does your recent ungrateful attack, 

before departure down that shoreline track. 

Forget Saturday! On your knees and beg. 

Don't blame me for breaking an arm, a leg; 

I could’ve cut them off and let you fall -  

I held you up! I didn’t make you small.  

I've seen you looking at the deaths of teams, 

at all the broken, sunken, shattered dreams. 

That's not us. Ian said, that's thanks to me, 

and I don’t understand why you won’t see 

the man I am, the black and white dam, 

why you push me out as if I'm a sham. 

Sat cold in early May, I say goodbye 

to them who never see how hard I try. 

You sit now and listen to my story 

of a love I had for dreams of glory. 

For years my strong arm protected this place. 

Thousands looked up to me, into my face; 

They wanted a strong leader, a real man, 

And I always said, I'll do all I can, 

just leave it me, give it all to me. 

Give it or I'll take it – nothing is free. 

Don't cheapen the brand, don’t show them your hand, 

just brush off the rust, remember the land. 

Double down, land on land, and legacy -  

all I wanted was brick-built memory. 

I always had one hand in my pocket -  

the other in yours; you’d never stop it. 

We're in it together, Town fans and me. 

Together to delightful Wemberlee! 

Once, twice, thrice, fice... Why weren’t you distracted? 

You're as cold as ice, ground down, impacted. 

You've slept for all these “brutal”, “haggard” years. 

How dare you wake now and claim these hot tears?  

I worked for us; I broke flags, I broke rules, 

you wanted me to take you all for fools. 

We shared wonderful dreams, you know it’s true, 

dreams of a new perfect Park, all in blue! 

I broke records – you'll always mark my time. 

Bury me at crossroads, coat me in lime, 

and I'll still be there, sat behind your eyes, 

Clawing at your brain and your new sunrise. 

You'll miss the numb comfort of my darkness. 

You keep a dog now, but you’d soon bark less. 

Get under my cloak, it covers your cares, 

saves you from all those tire-kickers' flares, 

And when you come crawling - I know you will -  

I'll be kind, benign, keep you, hold you still. 

But it’s cold in May, summer a long way. 

Yes, I feel the cold, so you’ll have to pay. 

I'll walk, pockets bulging, not looking back, 

And I'll not be far down that shoreline track. 

Contact

To contact me, go to: https://www.facebook.com/suspendednovel

Or find Alistair Wilkinson @algy04 on twitter.

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