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Dean Whitbread: Poetry (7 unread)

On the Lunar Eclipse

Posted: September 25th, 2004, 11:06pm BST by Dean Whitbread

London is blood red
behind the clouds
The silent streets
echo loud
My hands clean
My vote Green

The Thames flows
regenerated
our ways and means
exonerated
We march, don't we ?
We'll win, won't we ?

Bought cheap
The price of peace
One million hearts
Two million feet
Back to our old lives
Scanning the night skies

DFRW 4th May 2004
Just Broke (4 Deaths)

Posted: September 25th, 2004, 9:49pm BST by Dean Whitbread

Nice bloke
Back of his throat
Just broke
Made him choke
Dreadful scene
Left his greens
Chips, bacon, beans
Aged 12, 14

Nice old git
Stuck around a bit
Sudden fit
That was it
Swallowed his tongue
Collapsed his lung
He wasn't young
Can't have been fun

Nice young man
Suntan
Chelsea fan
Transit van
Went back
Sudden crack
Caught him smack
IKEA flat-pack

Nice old dear
Tad queer
Front and rear
Dodgy beer
Overnight
Drowned in shite
Dog died of fright
Awful sight

DFRW 26th April 2004
Thank You

Posted: September 25th, 2004, 9:26pm BST by Dean Whitbread

I want to thank you
from the absolute depths of my heart
for being the one

To dismantle the lock and melt the key down to metal
To reduce the door to planks and smash the walls to bricks and rubble
To drop my phone into the bath making the numbers unreadable
To lose the map to the wind making the destination unreachable
To wash all my woollen clothes extra, extra hot
To put in with all my whites a pair of bright red socks
To announce your love over the Central Station P.A.
In such a way that nobody waiting there can make out a word you say

I caught the train
Wearing a tight jumper and a pink shirt
Recalling the route
Having previously committed all important telephone numbers to memory
No longer in need of my cell

Thank you from the very top of myself
For my glorious destruction.

DFRW 4th April 2004 (4/4/4)
Using and Losing

Posted: September 25th, 2004, 8:27pm BST by Dean Whitbread

her friends appeal
his passport feel
a three-blade shave
as sharp as steel
but she don't get
the etiquette
those fashion heels
her sex tourettes

this impulse buy
for cutie pie
heart pumping faint
now wave bye-bye
remove duvet
he will obey
stripped of the sky
too skint to pay

DFRW 11th October 2003
Miracle

Posted: September 25th, 2004, 8:22pm BST by Dean Whitbread

A miracle, I said
A small one but real
A triumph of the heart
The flowering of love
Never thought that this would be
After all you said
About independence, sex and
Politics in bed and I
Remain suspended by
Your astonishing decision
To give this piece of me a try

So how would it be ?
If not the last, then lasting
Not gluttony nor fasting
Play around, play a role
Get some nutrition for the soul
Some comfort, some reward
Just to make and keep a word
Since it can be so
And, yes, we do pass go and
Collect our simple sum
Of two from one plus one

DFRW 3rd April 2004
Low

Posted: September 25th, 2004, 8:16pm BST by Dean Whitbread

Flat walls reflecting in
A stone, a plastic arch
A base of grit and scale
No tide, no night and day
No sun or moon, no beach
Insignificant debris
In no grand scheme of things
Air rises and food falls
Emerging from beyond
A constant chugging pump

The very smallest grains
At the bottom of the tank
Where the goldfish nose
In their reflex search
Upending shit and gravel
Staving off their pangs
It's maybe just because
That is what you do
When scum is more inviting
Than predatory sky

Take in and spit out lumps
Devoid of all nutrition
Monotonous and safe
Same as last time round
Vague memory of food
A hand, a golden hour
Some other time and place
Risk rising up to catch
The momentary manna
In gulps of recklessness

DFRW 11th May 2004
Pigeon

Posted: September 25th, 2004, 7:21pm BST by Dean Whitbread

there's nothing i love more
than a bit of pre-digested
delicious pavement pizza
down beneath the double breasted
it sets me up for lunch
and a nice al fresco shag
followed by some KFC
and though i do not like to brag
i'm rather easy on the eye
in my sleek shiny purple vest
and it's no wonder that i strut
and smugly bob and puff my chest
coz all i do is shag and eat
and shit and eat and shag and boast
i'd be a piece of piss to slaughter
yet i'm unfit for your roast
so i proliferate and fornicate
and dine on puke and trash
it's bloody good, let me tell you
now it's dinner time - must dash

DFRW 13th May 2004