Pete Evo Poems

That Lad

April fifteenth, nineteen-eighty-nine.
Semi-final day, the weather was fine.
Set off for Hillsborough in our mini-bus.
Laughing and singing, all twelve of us.
Bevy in the alehouse. Reds having the crack.
We didn't know then some wouldn't come back.
Walked down the hill on the way to the ground.
This was dead weird, not many bizzies around.
There's normally hundreds. Usually loads.
They must all be busy blocking off the roads.
Forest fans in one way, Liverpool another.
Can't have them meeting. "Don't want the bother."
One bizzy on horseback shouting over the din.
"Stop bloody pushing. You'll all get in."
"Come on lads, they've opened a gate."
"Hurry up, we don't wanna be late."
Straight up the tunnel and into the dark.
Couldn't even see the players out there on the park.
Something's not right. This is all going wrong.
My ribs are getting crushed in this massive throng.
I fell on the terrace, looking up at the sky.
God, I was scared. I don't wanna die!
Punch, kick, scrap, fight.
Got to do anything to get back upright.
I was like a wild animal. What's happening here!
Survival instinct. Stark bloody fear!
"Get outa my way lad. I can't get my breath!"
I didn't realise he was so near to death.
"Open the fence! Please! Let us out!"
That lad went under. It was his last ever shout.
Help me! Pull me up! Grab hold of my hand!
Get me out of this hellhole and into the stand!
I was safe. I survived. I was free from that hell.
How many dead? I just couldn't tell.
Looked down at the pitch, there was that lad.
A man weeping over him. That man was his Dad.
He was trying to revive him with the kiss of life.
But that lad was gone. How would his Dad tell his wife?
Many years on. Still no justice done.
That man's still grieving for his dear son.
Was it me? Was it my fault? Was I to blame?
I still ask myself at the Eternal Flame.

Other Poems

Six minutes past three on that tragic day.
The pain and the trauma won't go away.
Crushed as I was in that terrible pen.
Dead bodies around me; one as young as ten.
I was big and strong, so I scrapped and I fought
To save my own life; well that's what I thought.
Because inside I'm dead and it cuts like a knife
That ninety-six died and I have a life.
I did what I had to; I had three kids you see.
I couldn't die; it couldn't be me.
If I had died that day I never would have seen
My Ma's last seven years: My dear old queen.
Ninety-six souls haunt my dreams.
The nightmares won't stop; that's what it seems
I wake up sweating, shivering and shouting out loud
"There's ninety-six dead in that xxxxxxx crowd!"
I feel anger, I feel hatred, I feel guilt, I feel shame.
Ninety-six souls tell me I'm not to blame.
So why do I wake up screaming and crying

Seeing the faces of young people dying?
Ninety-six souls come to meet me each night
Taking me back to that terrible sight.
"They're to blame: Duckenfield and Murray
We'll get justice one day. We're in no hurry."
I should have died that day: I know that's a fact.
With the ninety-six souls I've made a pact.
"When my days are up and my judgement awaits
I'll meet you all in heaven at the Bill Shankly Gates."

 

"THEY ROBBED THEIR OWN DEAD. WHAT A TERRIBLE SIGHT!"
"THE TRUTH!" SAID THE SUN, SO IT MUST BE RIGHT.
"DRUNKEN SCOUSE YOBS FORCED OPEN A GATE!"
SCREAMED THE BILE FROM THE SCUMRAG WE ALL HATE.
"SCUM PEED ON BOBBIES TRYING TO SAVE THEIR MATES LIVES!"
HOW MUCH MORE WILL THEY TWIST THEIR KNIVES?

NO SCOUSER ON EARTH SHOULD EVER BE SEEN
WITH THAT PIECE OF DIRT, THAT RAG SO OBSCENE.
NINETY-SIX LIVES, NINETY-SIX GONE.
YET THE PEOPLE TO BLAME STILL CARRY ON.
EVERTON, LEEDS, SPURS AND UNITED
EVERY CLUB'S FANS WANT TO SEE THE WRONGS RIGHTED.
"IT COULD HAVE BEEN US," EVERYONE SAID
"WHO'S FANS WERE LEFT CRUSHED, INJURED AND DEAD."

WE ONLY WANT Justice, WE DON'T WANT REVENGE.
WE ONLY SEEK ANSWERS, NOT TO AVENGE.
ADMIT YOU WERE WRONG (IT'S NOT TOO LATE)
IN GIVING THE ORDER TO OPEN THE GATE.
NINETY-SIX DEAD, "NO-ONE TO BLAME"
SAID A JUDGE UP IN LEEDS: BRITISH Justice IN SHAME.

"THE TRUTH" WAS ALL LIES AND DISGRACED OUR GOOD NAME.
NINETY-SIX DEAD. NO-ONE TO BLAME.
NO POLICEMEN CONVICTED, THAT'S ALL THAT MATTERED.
NINETY-SIX FAMILIES LEFT BROKEN AND SHATTERED.
NINETY-SIX LIVES LOST WATCHING A GAME.
NINETY-SIX DEAD. NO-ONE TO BLAME.