The Owl is not what he seems.

Flickering on the edges
Of that reality
Only existing in the dull light
Of television
He sat, stage left
Ocassionally panning to centre.

Now his time
In the leading role
Perhaps
The owl is not what he seems.
For a lifetime -
Watching, perhaps
He has gleaned what afflicts
This sorry state.

Haiku for Jay Spearing/Stop Football Forever Right Now

Like a bag of rocks
He tumbles around the pitch-
What's the fucking point.

Wand of a left foot

Like a scotch egg
Kicked half to death
Covered with a ketchup sash
It's Charlie Adam.

Dalglish Etheree

There
Was no
Need to come
Back to the league.
Special flickers like
The time you told Wenger
"It's a penalty, piss off."
But now you're the worst of them all
With your DVDs and your referees
Just leave it to Alex, it's been too long.