"We'll see."
(Thirty-two team,
two kyoo-bee,

a full-starting
O-, and only
two-guys on D.)

Mixed-media,
played-with, in poetry.
War, on, inside-me.

Implying-unstable, infer-me,
infirm the insane,
afraid,
and a stain,
and-to-blame.
And,

for shame,
part of race, don't,
myself, run-in.
Tryna buy-my-lunch. (&)
*******'s brought a gun-in.
Element'ry school, and all you wonder's where the fun's went. (&)
"Probably in another-empty-bag of
eaten-Funyuns." (&)
Probably, blue-blew fireworks, with fingers-off...
stumped-him. (&)

"Stomped'em."

Wonder, beauty, why you cryin'?
"Wonder,
if you'd drive?"
Bought-in, you did! To
all-I've-said, ugly and
alive-eyed.

"Wouldn't cough too much,
with tube-in!
You're mouth-dry."
Hampton-Beach-power-plant-hug,
July Five. CJD makes-me.
A bad brine, mine.
Another-youngest,
"Brother has died,
blind."

North Hampton,
on the way to
Hamherst-dam.
"Tryin'-man!
Love, the fam.
Will it be too late t'jam?

If I leave, you, now, from where I am?"
I leave now, from where I am. So,
[Leave now!
From: where I am!]

Leave now, "from where?"
(I'm already there.
Or did we come
the other way?)
"I'm getting there,
****."

I.

Am.

Despite the **** blizzard.
Why am I afraid to say
"it?"
Like:
"it" isn't.
I'm a Wizard.
Are we set,
now?
On-a-plan?
I'm a lizard,
tail-dropped.

Basilisk-Kenevel,
walking water-cans.
Bet you coulda. Know I woulda.
Puddle-crossed,
"Bye," I ran.
Ogled-over noodles,
with the
"wrong-sauce-
Dan-Dan."
I'm always glad to read you.
Wrote to your-self, I am

THE man, I am
THAT guy! I'm not?
"You are."
Just-High.
I fry.
These-frilly vegetarian-victims.
I ripped flesh from bone, before my dogs,
had to sic 'em.

Oh--
if you don't like the channels you can clickclick-click 'em.
If I'm showing off my *****! "Better go-head."
Lick'em.
See? Hawk-my-****, and
Stickemmmmmmmmmm.

Didn't happen to 'bic' him."
D'you know
how to pick 'em?
Cuz I take hit, like you
take-a-****:
Ummmmmmmm
...
well.

And, I turn-it.
All-around.
And I make you
****-yourself.
*******-on my
"all-that,"
it comes, with.
Now, Fall! Back!

Cell-tough, in round-III, so
convert, or burn-winnin'. "Comfy-
When-sinnin'." In-system,
Preferably would, and should-be:
Bobs. Newhart and Lee and "the
Third. " "Cornball." Griffin.
Racist, your second-choice, whiffin'.
K-battin', ten,

outta-tin.
Hear it in the heat, soul-hissin',
lion-sun, bathing,
and she-glisten.
Cast me, to an
island away,
swears-by-we,
"Listen."

"More pills, son?"
Try'na name
your brand,
Of volley-*****.
Wilson,

Rus-sell

"I call them the
'defensive-stars,'"
And this-league: ***.
***. Arr.
Ain't-no-side-

hus-tle.

Memories of old,
flooding fast through my mind,
some tinged with sadness
and some, sweet sublime.

A fireside reverie shared
with eyes so bright,
an audience of innocence
and excited delight.

The crackling logs  
on the fires of time,
the little rapt faces as
you feed them a line.

Of thunder, lightning,
and rain as we run!
Football, toy-fighting,
such laughter and fun.

Flying a kite that
you made on your own
out of bin bags and tape
and canes tied and bowed.

A dam in the brook,
fighting flowing water
with rocks, wood
and uncontrolled laughter.

Till finally plugged,
the waters rise
deeper and wider
before delighted eyes.

Then comes the challenge,
“Who can burst the dam?”
No touching allowed,
just throw what you can.

Bricks and sticks
and boulders and all,
sploshing and splashing
they uselessly fall.

But the water's still rising
and there's panic in our eyes,
it'll soon reach the road,
“Better run for our lives!”

But wait, what’s this,
could this do the trick?
As long as a gate post
and three times as thick.

We wrestle and heave
and drag it uphill,
pushing and pulling
and testing our will.

Till finally atop and
we let out a sigh,
this might just work,
“We'll give it a try”.

Straining and grunting
and chuckling with glee
as we swing it between us,
one...two...three!

With a whoosh and a crack
our dam is no more
as the post breaks its back
and we’re laughing on the floor.

Such innocent times,
that can still make me grin,
they live in the mind
of the sweet child within.



Written by Darren Scanlon, March 2011.
This revised version written, 17th July 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.

Are all footy fanatics
Total raving lunatics?
The flag's in the bag!
We've got lively lads
The best we've ever had!
Peter Pans on ***,
The flags that time forgot!
Footy finals fever,
Talk about dream weavers!
Footy finals phobia,
TV claustrophobia,
Why didn't we win,
Any old excuse again!
Footy fanatics,
Raving lunatics,
Footy finals fever,
Melbourne's dream weavers!

Here is my version of a paradigm shift,
Socratic questions if you get my drift.
Why did God make the Universe elliptical?
To make an Aussie football, not spherical!
Why did God make football? See here,
To make men miserable, my dears!
Why did God make beer?
To make men happy, my dears!
So, some intelligent chappies here,
Taking beer to the football, no fears,
Now they're miserable and happy dears!

The kid could throw, he really could throw

Scouts were watching back in high school

Arm like a rocket and vision like an owl

Smart too, had all the tools

He could pick apart a defense

He just knew what he could do

But he could throw, the kid could throw

He wasn't coached, the kid just knew

He was fourteen when first spotted

Junior ball in  Eastern Michigan

Throwing footballs, Setting records,

Just to break them all again

His mind was agile like his feet

He just knew how plays should go

He was gonna knock them dead in college

He was a sure thing for the show

He made the coaches look amazing

They never, ever  called a play

He'd run the team alone while playing

He knew just what he had  to say

Three perfect years in highschool

Undefeated every year

State champions...why naturally

The kid just had no fear

He was a leader with that football

He was a man amongst the boys

He sure could pick apart a defense

He broke 'em up like little toys

In third year scouts were knocking

Every college from the East

Full rides without a question

The schools all wanted this young beast

He settled on a team with promise

He knew he could help them win it all

The scouts and coaches stood in awe as

The **** kid could throw that ball

He kept his marks up to the level

That he needed to stay around

He wrote up plays instead of homework

Some in the air, some on the ground

The kid could throw the ****** football

The NFL already knew

He'd already broken most school records

The scouts just knew what he could do

It took two years to make a bowl game

On TV beneath the lights

The country knew of the boy wonder

And they would see it Sunday night

The one thing without question

Was the rocket they called his arm

The coaches built a line around him

They would keep him safe from harm

In third year he decided

He was turning pro that year

The pro scouts all knew of him

The price to get him would be dear

Deals were made through out the summer

Teams were phoning every day

The school was upset he was leaving

The league knew he was set to play

Two first round picks and a reciever

Went to Detroit for his rights

The Lions had the chance to grab him

But the Texans had him in their sights

The Texans proudly took him

He was gonna lead them all the way

The way that this kid threw a football

In Texas they sang "Happy Day"

Our father who are't in heaven

Hallowed be thy name

We lay this boy to rest before us

Before he even played a game

A celebration in a men's club

The boy had come so ****** far

When shots were fired in the crowd there

Two gunmen drove by in a car

He had the world in his possession

Man the kid could throw, really throw

But, fate had chose a different story

How good he was we'll never know

I remember the cold breeze blow into your face..
Your Red Shirt waiving whilst your on it..
Then the Camera focussed..
From the Green Grass to the back of your shirt..
Number 8..
And I knew I was looking at
My Legend..
My hero..
You'll Never Walk Alone they sang..
It gave me Goose bumps instantly!

I've never failed to miss a game to watch you since then..
To watch you play.. To watch Liverpool Play..
And then they sang your name..
You AWED me with
Joy and Goose Bumps!
You will be missed dearly..
But as you move on to better challenges..
Remember you Sir,
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart..
You'll Never Walk Alone!

-Shahzaad Zahirsha

Quarterback, football team
Cute smile, James Dean
Drives me crazy, daydream

Blond hair, brown eyes
"I promise, no lies"
My day, blue skies.

I think, seeing stars.
Holds me, strong arms.
We're here, too far?

What happened, to you.
You changed, it's new.
I loved, you too.

He speaks, I look.
Love story, short book.
My heart, he took.

i need a poem about Real Madrid football team

She was the strangest football fan I'd ever met,
Between match programmes and leaflets she hid Nietzsche and Thoreau;
Philosophy being a bright passion of hers,
It all seemed so natural in her visage.
On days, she'd hum You'll Never Walk Alone
While turning delicately the pages of a new text,
Smiling at the words that appeared before her on the page.
Dorian Gray, she took time to point out,
Kept her fascinated—
But it was always going to be Nietzsche,
And the first time she strummed the pages of Thus Spoke Zarathustra it was as if the humming had turned to fire,
And she was melded with the page.
I would believe only in a god who could dance.
If you asked her who she favoured,
she would reply back with a chirp, 
the Russians!
And hold to you a copy of Dostoyevsky,
Crime and Punishment, she said, was her fascination
And she'd as fluidly as ever switch back to the fixtures.
Never passion, always fancy.
It was as if viewing herself through a third party lens.
Her passion for the game,
As mysterious as her gentle touch on softer pages.
How could she love so drastically?
Football, her passion,
But her books were her mystery to all, to even herself,
And the quiet murmur of Nietzsche, her nectar.

99

Dear number ninety nine,
I see your small town heart,
But tell me through the fame and success,
Does it feel far apart?

You seem to have all you've wanted,
Built on hard work and big dreams.
But please tell me, is having it all
Really all it seems?

Do you feel totally fulfilled?
Or is something missing you can't explain?
Are you searching for more greatness?
Is there something else you need to gain?

Dear number ninety nine,
It seems your hard work has been rewarded.
But did you ever stop to think of the One,
From whom all your gifts were awarded?

With all the awards and accolades,
All the credit goes to you,
But I wonder if deep in your heart,
You give the credit where it's due.

The man who throws players to their knees,
Do you ever get on yours and pray?
The man who leads in many stats,
Do you ever let God lead your way?

Dear number ninety nine,
Nobody is perfect, you and I will fail and be weak,
Times like these I look to God for strength,
Who is it that you seek?

In times of doubt and insecurity,
How do you feel secure?
Is it by working out and pushing yourself through
The hardest exercises you can endure?

The times you feel empty and broken,
How do you feel whole and new?
Is it by new cars and vacations,
And doing whatever you want to do?

Dear number ninety nine,
I love your work with those who defend our nation.
Without even knowing it, you're doing the work
Of the King of all Creation.

Like all you do for underprivileged kids,
Providing them athletic equipment to compete.
By allowing them to play sports,
You help keep them off the street.

People of all ages look up to you,
But what if you gave them more to see?
Kids want to be like you when they grow up,
But what if you gave them more to be?

Dear number ninety nine,
Does that small town heart beat for the love of God?
Or for simply the love of the game,
And giving it all you got?

Do you think of the people you can help,
Or the opponents you can defeat?
Do you train your body for your work,
Or do you train to be God's hands and feet?

Imagine what would happen
If everyone who know and love you,
Would also by association
Know and love God too.

So when you lock yourself in your cabin,
To find peace and train alone,
I challenge you to find your God,
Who will train you from his throne.

Your heart will beat, and your hands and feet
Will move in ways you've never known.
Your thinking will change for the better,
Your mind will be heavenly blown.

There's a peace you never knew possible,
A strength you never knew existed,
A mental toughness shining light
On a society so dark and twisted.

Dear number ninety nine,
I know it's pizza you like to deliver.
But what if you could provide the hope
That calms every shake and quiver.

You know how to score a touchdown and touch a life,
But tell me can you touch a heart?
With the kind of love and faith that never fails,
Something that won't ever fall apart?

Dear number ninety nine,
I see your face on the television,
But do tell me does it always reflect
The face of God's mission?

At 23 years I haven't seen what you  can see,
But I know the greatest sight was the one that's in me.
No superbowls, photo shoots, or riches can ever satisfy my thirst,
Like how it feels in my heart to put my Lord and Savior first.

You seem to be the headline of every story,
But few are dedicated to giving God glory.
Tell me, are you shy or afraid of offending?
Or are you going to keep going through life pretending?

You can isolate your self to build every muscle,
You can train all you want to have more strength and hustle.
But if you don't give thanks, listen to the spirit, or pray,
You may not be reaching your greatest potential each day.

One muscle will still be neglected,
unless one day god's temple is erected.
Your heart is the muscle that shows true strength
Following God's path to every length.

You're in the hearts of so many people,
Imagine what would happen if their hearts would build a steeple
If your heart filled with God, maybe theirs would be too,
But it all starts with number 99, it can begin with you.