"dempsey" poems
In the rain in the rain in the rain in the rain in Spain.
Does it rain in Spain?
Oh yes my dear on the contrary and there are no bull fights.
The dancers dance in long white pants
It isn't right to yence your aunts
Come Uncle, let's go home.
Home is where the heart is, home is where the **** is.
Come let us **** in the home.
There is no art in a ****
Still a **** may not be artless.
Let us **** an artless **** in the home.
Democracy.
Democracy.
Bill says democracy must go.
Go democracy.
Go
Go
Go
Bill's father would never knowingly sit down at table with a Democrat.
Now Bill says democracy must go.
Go on democracy.
Democracy is the ****
Relativity is the ****
Dictators are the ****
Menken is the ****
Waldo Frank is the ****
The Broom is the ****
Dada is the ****
Dempsey is the ****
This is not a complete list.
They say Ezra is the ****
But Ezra is nice.
Come let us build a monument to Ezra.
Good a very nice monument.
You did that nicely
Can you do another?
Let me try and do one.
Let us all try and do one.
Let the little girl over there on the corner try and do one.
Come on little girl.
Do one for Ezra.
Good.
You have all been successful children.
Now let us clean the mess up.
The Dial does a monument to Proust.
We have done a monument to Ezra.
A monument is a monument.
After all it is the spirit of the thing that counts.
9.6k
I was gonna rip his heart out. I'm the best ever. I'm the most brutal and vicious, the most ruthless champion, there has ever been. No one can stop me. Lennox is a conqueror? No! He's no Alexander! I'm Alexander! I'm the best ever. I'm Sonny Liston. I'm Jack Dempsey. There's never been anyone like me. I'm from their cloth. There is no one who can match me. My style is impetuous, my defense is impregnable, and I'm just ferocious. I want his heart! I want to eat his children! Praise be to Allāh!
-Mike Tyson
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 2:41 PM UTC
I once met a boy on the school bus I used to ride
I find it ironic that I was walking down the aisle
When I saw him
---
He had a girlfriend and charisma
I had a heart and innocence
In one weekend he took both of them
---
That Saturday I snuck out to see him
Alcohol had him intoxicated
Infatuation had me
---
A single cloud hung in the sky
An entire galaxy composed of water droplets
He pointed at it *"If I wasn't so wasted,
I'd swear that's the Milky Way"*
"We're standing on the Milky Way"
---
"I want to kiss you right now"
"You don't even know me"
"What don't I know"
Everything "Name a hobby of mine"
"Writing"
Lucky guess
"My favorite actor"
"Ashton Kutcher"
I shook my head
"Leonardo Dicaprio" then "Patrick Dempsey" then "Ryan Gosling"
"He was"
"Past tense - Who is"
"You are"
"What role have I played"
"A role in my life"
He laughed then insisted that he wasn't playing anything
He promised me that he wasn't acting
---
"You won't even remember this in the morning"
"If I do"
"If you do, tell me-"
"Last night we were standing on the Milky Way"
"Yeah tell me that"
---
"Last night we were standing on the Milky Way"
He laughed when I tilted my head
"You remembered"
"Everything"
I folded those words and put them in my pocket
He folded my heart and placed it in his
---
But his promises were
Shorter than my nails.
(When I bit them)
And that evening, his mother found
My heart in their washing machine
A victim to the rinse cycle
---
He deserves an Oscar.
Jan 26, 2012
Jan 26, 2012 at 9:46 PM UTC
SHOWING SOME ENTERPRISE DURING
DOUBLE MATHS CLASS IN 1969
"Look, Kirk..!" I stab at the map
"Yes, the Barzan Wormhole is unstable but~
it's our only hope!"
Kirk's face blanches
Spock tries to show no emotion
"Highly illogical, yet. . ?"
Now, 70,000 light years away
"My God, Capt. Dempsey.."" Kirk smirks
"...it worked...it...worked. . !"
"Worked...of course it worked!"
I bluff and bluster
Spock's tight lipped smile
"Ahhh...Mr. Dempsey..."
Sir's voice gruffly Klingon
beaming me back up to Reality
"...seems to be in
another universe entirely..."
snickers as he reaches for the cane
"So..." Kirk smiles
"The square on the hypotenuse is equal to...
"Shut it Kirk..!" I snap "...just shut it!"
I watch the parabola of the cane
"Warp Factor 9...now...quick!"
I order Mr. Sulu
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 3:58 PM UTC
GOD **** THIS CZECH SHAPESHIFTING
lost in Praha
lost in Kafka
losing myself
careful making deals
with old Nick
I said 'Beatle' not 'beetle'
***
WHEN FRANZ MET DÓNALL
'When Dónall Dempsey woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous version of a certain F. Kafka.
Someone must have been telling lies about Dónall Dempsey, he knew he had done nothing wrong but, one morning, he was arrested to find out he had been turned into this F. Kafka.
Where had his Dónall Dempsey-ness gone and why - Kafka? He knew of but had never actually read any - Kafka He had knowledge of the tropes...what Kafka could be reduced to in terms of general knowledge that could possibly clinch a pub quiz victory so that people would nod sagely and say "I knew...you being a poet and all...that you would know the answer to that."
I found that what had happened to me...whatever had happened to me...was more extensive that I had thought so that even my initial "D" become the 11th letter of the alphabet instead of the usual fourth. I was now merely a "K."
I realised I would have to go to Prague to bring some semblance of sense to this transformation. And when I did so...hiding myself among the many tourists...I discovered that Kafka had become me and that we had somehow traded places.
So that now there was a Dónall Dempsey cafe and postcards bearing my features and other such touristy attractions that would be sure to be a sure fire attraction to the traveller with a literary bent of mind.
I visited the grave...his grave...and sure enough...it was my name that was chiseled into the stone.
Meanwhile Kafka was enjoying my life and strolling around Guildford as if it was his own. He appeared to be enjoying being Dónall Dempsey.
"Ha ha..!" I thought. "Give it time...give it time!" And Franz would surely find that being Dónall Dempsey wasn't such a good thing.
And myself being a literary tourist attraction? I ****** well hated it I wanted to crawl away and die or be trampled to a pulp by a frightened child who had discovered a cockroach in her cornflakes.
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 8:01 AM UTC
Another gone, gone again.
I thought he liked me for me.
I thought i felt safe with me.
I thought it would last longer than four days.
The good guys always get away,
but, as i always say its just one more off the list.
Maybe the next one waiting for me will last.
Two guys are there for me and seem like it.
I want someone to be there and be able to tell me if they are good.
Another gone, gone again.
As i lay with my phone calling and texting two.
I've never felt that comfored by someone.
When will the hurting stop?
when will they stop turning off the lights and keep them on?
When will the heart be one?
When will someone fill the pain of the hole in the heart?
The girl trapped in the room.
She can never get out, cause the door is locked.
Though i know someone will come along with the key and let her out.
Maybe he will save her for once.
Another gone, gone again.
Can't my life be like a movie?
I want John Cusack holding a boombox outside my window.
I wanna ride off on a lawnmower with Patrick Dempsey.
I want Jake from Sixteen Candles waiting outside the church for me.
I want Judd Nelson thrusting his fist into the air because he knows he got me.
But none of that happens.
Because they just want us to get hurt and do anything for them.
Another gone, gone again.
And i can't do anything but wait and cry.
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 6:42 AM UTC
DOC. NO. 30060
to you
who
reads me a thousand
years from now
an impossible you...I
could not begin to imagine
survivor of
WW3
the world almost ceasing
to be
and I, a fragment
of history
a few burnt pages
a charred eye
an happenstance of
history rather than
merit where
all words...any words
were made precious
me now
an historic document
that you try to breath
live into
a me imposible to know
me the so
long ago
eaten by time
devoured by history
the symbolic irony
of the charred eye
the rest of the photo
not making it
and so, my impossible to know
write your academic paper
on this me that has
long ceased to be
but how my thought survives
in my only known poem
words burnt
at the edges
so many unknowns
so many...ellipses
I, Donall Dempsey
artifact No. 30060
returned to the library
at 6.30
Thursday, 30018
the 15th of July
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 4:22 PM UTC
"This is for the ladies(scratches)x3 ("yo Big Yosefs hard as hell"x3)
This is for the ladies
Yeah see the fire in your eyes makes my phallus rise
Visualize through ya **** Enterprise No
ties
unattached emotions once I enter ya thighs
Begins a commotion smooth
Coastin'
As ya love smotin' my **** is
potent
Ain't none outstrokin' got ya
Floatin'
On cloud nines no oceans
Eleven
Tryna get your ****** from earth to
Heaven
Yeah baby I'm freaky like that make ya back
Crack
check my stats my Louisville woody
bats
At a thousand to none *** like bullets out
Of a gun
leave ya stunned shunned and
outdunned
Who could wax it like an axe to
split
Ill spit with much saliva improvise like Mygyver
Taste the buds now I grew wiser feelin'
flyer
Than a blimp the lyrical **** flows never
limp
Check between my legs baby girl n I'll show you the world
Glisten intellects like pearls got ya mentality in a swirl
And every word magnatized once you
Realize
Got ya ******* harder than a leech black mafia
But don't call me Big Meech as I preach and reach
Hands caressing all over ya body so lovely yo whos above me?
Better not say any give ya good and
plenty
Of rigid **** as ya vaginal fluid turn thick
slicker
Than oil passions temps start to boils
Over five thousand degrees hittin' the bottom of the *****
On to your knees
Please Don't push me I'm feelin' lonely and freaky
So pour up some genuine wine til we tipsy
Clap that *** back baby
I'll punch it harder than Dempsey lines
be smoother than Chicago Pimps
see And I'll be
wrecking ya wet shop got ya saying please don't stop
Once I popped huh I got many flavors that I could droppppp
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 10:38 AM UTC
A CORPORAL'S DEFINITION OF POETRY
The perfect summer's day.
The sky a postcard blue.
Hate distorted voices...faces
chanting: "STICK IT IN HIS GUTS!"
A lark ascending
throws itself against the vault of Heaven.
Only to be
rejected.
"...MAKE IT HURT...TWIST IT ABOUT
**** THE FUC**ING *******
God has a sick sense
of humour to have
bayonet practice
on such a perfect day.
The world whirlpools
down the plug hole
of Corporal 'Orrible's
almighty mouth.
He hates me because I
(Pt. Dempsey D. No. 835572)
am not showing enough
hate to **** a sandbag.
Sweat trickles down my spine
vertebra by vertebra.
The sandbag ***** the blade in
and won't give it back again.
I pull it out and fall
upon my derrière.
The sandbag bleeds sand.
Mocks my efforts
which displaces the book
I have about my person.
"What's this...what's this!"
Corporal 'Orrible hisses.
"A book, Corporal!"
"I can ****** well see it's a book!"
"A poetry book, Corporal!
IN PARENTHESIS by David Jones."
"In...in...wotsis do you think I'm
thick or wot!"
"Wot, Corporal?"
"Don't you wot me sunny Jim!"
His spit
peppers my face.
"There isn't enough white space
around the words for it to be a poem!"
"That's not an accurate definition
of a poem, Corporal!"
He froths at the mouth
tears it in half...throws it over his shoulder.
"Why you impudent little pup!
*** that rifle up...up....up!"
He runs me around the training ground
three times and then three times.
Later I go back and find
only half of it.
The half I have already read.
A sheep is nibbling it.
But like the Corporal it isn't
to his taste.
Over 40 years go by and
here I am an ex-army man.
Finishing the second half of
Jones' IN PARENTHESIS.
Remembering all too well the hell of
running 'round the training ground
three times and then three times
with my rifle up above my head.
Oh the agony of bearing arms.
Remembering too never to argue
with a corporal's definition of
poetry during bayonet practice.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 4:41 PM UTC
eye-ball to eye-ball
scream to scream.....
................................
i am a dempsey dumpster and i see
when i look deep inside myself
the food that feeds the homeless children of the world
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 4:02 PM UTC
ariel, pan....(whomever)
when we love we inherit
all worth having
.........
halos of light
in dark alleys
we shall meet
there
........
*** behind the dempsey dumpster
(it is the best place)
this i know well
..........
there are no prostitutes
only poor black girls
(some have white skin)
..........
if you are not sick
of this world
you are truly sick
(this we all
know well)
so well
Feb 28, 2011
Feb 28, 2011 at 1:47 PM UTC
"La vita è una scuola di probabilità."
I appear
to have fallen
out of myself
no longer the me I am
but as if I had become
the statue of my self.
A pigeon **** tear
runs down my granite cheek.
"La vita è una scuola di probabilità."
the pigeon perched upon my head announces.
"Probably..?" I answer.
More a maybe-perhaps.
I am now an actor
playing the part of myself
unsure of what is expected of me
"What's my motivation?" I ask the director.
But he has been taken off
this picture.
The Donall Dempsey I used to be
no longer exists.
Someone or something
has broken into my head
and stolen the me
I was.
I now have no dialogue
only a walk-on-part
in my own life
an unimportant footnote
somewhere on page
42.
"What will I do..?"
I whistle the Berlin tune
the pigeon flying off my head
taking my thoughts with it.
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC
"Look, Kirk..!" I stab at the map
"Yes, the Barzan Wormhole is unstable but~
it's our only hope!"
Kirk's face blanches
Spock tries to show no emotion
"Highly illogical, yet. . ?"
Now, 70,000 light years away
"My God, Capn. Dempsey.."" Kirk smirks
"...it worked...it...worked. . !"
"Worked...of course it worked!"
I bluff and bluster
Spock's tight lipped smile
"Ahhh...Mr. Dempsey..."
Sir's voice gruffly Klingon
beaming me back up to Reality
"...seems to be in
another universe entirely..."
snickers as he reaches for the cane
"So..." Kirk smiles
"The square on the hypotenuse is equal to...
"Shut it Kirk..!" I snap "...just shut it!"
I watch the parabola of the cane
"Warp Factor 9...now...quick!"
I order Mr. Sulu
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC
“I want John Cusack holding a boombox outside my window. I wanna ride off on a lawnmower with Patrick Dempsey. I want Jake from Sixteen Candles waiting outside the church for me. I want Judd Nelson thrusting his fist into the air because he knows he got me. Just once I want my life to be like an 80′s movie, preferably one with a… really awesome musical number for no apparent reason. But no, John Hughes did not direct my life.”
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
Dónall O'Diomsiagh is anim dom!
( Dónall Dempsey is my name! )
I was born
the weight of a bag of sugar.
2 lbs to be
precise.
That was all there was
to me!
( My belly alas weighs more than that now )!
De Da could
hold me in his fist and
I'd disappear
'cept for the little dangly dancing leggy bits.
I had Elvis sideburns
( I was all shock up )
and entered this
world of ours
feet first
putting my best foot forward
ready to rock
'n" roll...mannn!
Doris Day was singing
CE SERA SERA!
And what, what...do ya think
they called the tiniest baby
. . .ever ever seen?
Why, Dónall!
Dónall...of course!
Dónall meaning WORLD
MIGHTY SPEAR POWER.
And Dempsey itself meaning
THE PROUD ONE!
Ahhh the majesty of the Celtic tongue!
A wrestler's name if ever...
"And in the green corner..."
Or an Ozymandias name. . .
"Look on my works, ye mighty ,and despair!"
De Ma would always spoil it for me:
"WORLDMIGHTYSPEARPOWERTHEPROUDONE! You
get yer *** in here this minute and finish yer homework!"
An awful big name
( to be sure to be sure )
for a little fella to
live up to. . .
Ahhh, but sure I do my best
putting words to the test
wrestling with a rhyme
stealing through your mind.
For I am
( am I not?)
the poet with
the hyperbolic name!
WORLD MIGHTY
SPEAR POWER
THE PROUD ONE!
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 12:21 PM UTC
MY MOTHER’S HANDS
(in memory of my mother Ita Dempsey)
My mother’s hands
washing potatoes
washing kids
washing pans.
My mother’s hands
on bitterly cold days
******* yet more washing
on a pregnant line
the line growing nothing but
nappies
her hands blind
with the cold.
My mother’s hands
ironing clothes
ironing clothes
ironing countless knickers
for my seven sisters.
My mother’s hands
taking my hands
in hers
such love...such laughter!
My mother’s hands
patting talcum powder
on another baby's ***
Mum being Mum.
Me, kissing
my mother’s hands
for all...they’ve done.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 8:38 AM UTC
Dónall O'Diomsiagh is anim dom!
( Dónall Dempsey is my name! )
I was born
the weight of a bag of sugar.
2 lbs to be
precise.
That was all there was
to me!
( My belly alas weighs more than that now )!
De Da could
hold me in his fist and
I'd disappear
'cept for the little dangly dancing leggy bits.
I had Elvis sideburns
( I was all shock up )
and entered this
world of ours
feet first
putting my best foot forward
ready to rock
'n" roll...mannn!
Doris Day was singing
CE SERA SERA!
And what, what...do ya think
they called the tiniest baby
. . .ever ever seen?
Why, Dónall!
Dónall...of course!
Dónall meaning WORLD
MIGHTY SPEAR POWER.
And Dempsey itself meaning
THE PROUD ONE!
Ahhh the majesty of the Celtic tongue!
A wrestler's name if ever...
"And in the green corner..."
Or an Ozymandias name. . .
"Look on my works, ye mighty ,and despair!"
De Ma would always spoil it for me:
"WORLDMIGHTYSPEARPOWERTHEPROUDONE! You
get yer *** in here this minute and finish yer homework!"
An awful big name
( to be sure to be sure )
for a little fella to
live up to. . .
Ahhh, but sure I do my best
putting words to the test
wrestling with a rhyme
stealing through your mind.
For I am
( am I not?)
the poet with
the hyperbolic name!
WORLD MIGHTY
SPEAR POWER
THE PROUD ONE!
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC
CRAZY CANARY YELLOW
(In Memory Of My Mother Ita Dempsey)
Bright skin tight
a crazy canary yellow
jeans
my pride & joy
(my first Versace)
took a lot
of *****
to wear ‘em
but then
I got
‘em!
My mother hated
(with a vengeance) them
(hated to pieces)
them
until one morning early
up with the crow of the ****
I cut them
myself to pieces
“Snick snack! ” sniggered
the scissors
(good for a laugh)
threw the shreds of the threads
up upon the roof
let an hour or so
pass
and then discovering
my own(the devil’s) handiwork
accused her
of the dastardly deed.
Who else(I said)
wanted the jeans dead?
Who hated them
with such a passion
to do such...such
a thing.
Maybe she thought...
“I did it in my(God forgive) sleep.”
“Although I know
I didn’t do it
it’s what I would have wanted done.”
After hours
struggling like a worm
I let her off the hook
confess it was I
that done them
(the jeans) in.
She annoyed at the spoof
that took her in
but delighted at the demise
of those **** things.
The hearty laugh of then
the feeble smile of now
as she(here is this hospital)
tries not to die.
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC
"DONALL DEMPSEY INDEED!"
'LLANOD YESPMED?"
he squinted at my driver's licence.
"It's pronounced CLANOD!"
I said with extreme exasperation.
"Y'are not from these here parts
. . .are ya fella?"
he drawled dryly
squinting closer firstly at me then
back again to my !D.
"I'm of Welsh/Turkish extraction
but I was born on Venus!"
I explained as if to
a little kid.
"Ha ha...haha!" he snorted
a tiny trickle of snot
yo-yoing up and down
his hairy left nostril.
"Ha ha...if you were to
spell yer name backwards
it would spell:
Donall Dempsey!"
I was not amused.
"Ya know...that crazy hairy
Irish earthling poet dude!"
"I'm not him!"
I fumed.
"Alright...alright...keep yer
antenas on...geeeez!"
He handed me back
my Id ID.
Tipped his hat.
Wiped his nose across his sleeve.
"Welcome to Mars.
You drive carefully now!"
I stepped on the rocket boosters.
Left him eating my stardust.
****** customs!"
I yelled to myself.
"Huh...Donall Dempsey
...indeed!"
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 4:11 AM UTC
"BEWARE THE DONALL DEMPSEY MY SON!"
The frog slid slowly down
my throat.
It's legs sticking out of
my mouth...still kicking.
The world was running away
into the final darkness.
My eyes were robbed
of trees and sun.
The day being stolen
from me.
"Death by frog!"
How unlikely a dying.
The bullies were all
short-trousered lads like me
sculpted from the sunlight
of 1963.
Then either the frog gave
a desperate last minute kick
or I silently yelled
and expelled
friend frog who
having escaped death by swallowing
hopped it
lost itself in the long grass.
Perhaps the horrible tale
of down-the-gullet
is told still to its descendants
far removed from that sunny day.
"Better watch out..." Mamma Frog
would make her voice shiver
making her tiddlers tremble
with trepidation
"...or the Donall Dempsey
will get you!"
***
I was having a bad day....nothing going my way....but still Kim Moore managed to wring this out of me in her wonderful writing workshop. She applied a Chinese burn to my mind and out popped this in a seven and a half minute sprint of the mind. I was halfways through reliving the trauma of a frog being shoved down my throat to gales of laughter when I suddenly thought "What about the poor frog? How did he cope?"
What did he tell the other frogs and how in the world of frogs it became the tallest of tall tales and my name entered the lexicon of frog horror stories that have been passed down through generations of frog families despite being the innocent victim! All the frog heard in its terrification was my name
chanted over and over again in great grievous glee "Ha ha ha...Donall Dempsey!" Me and friend frog were in this tormenting together. But despite all this my name has gone down in frog history as if I were a Grendel or a Grendel's mother or a Jabberwocky. Just say Donall Dempsey and see what the reaction is...faster than a Basho plop and splash
May 1, 2021
May 1, 2021 at 5:17 AM UTC
January & June
were having fun
hanging out together
not just for
sweet alliteration's sake
but because
- they could.
And they had always
secretly fancied each other.
Time had taken
a holiday.
Not an every day
occurence.
So they took
advantage of
this once
in a blue moon
- happening.
Monday & Sunday
were in bed together
( don't ask me what
they were doing ).
A century & a second
were gazing into
each other's eyes
amazed to see themselves
reflected there.
The hands of the clock
were spooning.
An hour was courting
( such an old fashioned word )
a beautiful young ahhhhh
moment.
Time itself
was sulking
because the lovers
weren't paying him
any mind
what so
ever.
They seemed to live
in the "...now, now, very now"
( as Mr. Shakespeare puts it )
scattering their smiles
here and everywhere
see them blossoming
into squeals and laughter.
A new millennium
had just turned up &
was at once
( "Wot de...!")
press ganged
into one of their forever
kisses.
**** that Janice Windle & Donall Dempsey!"
Time throwing a hissy fit!
**** that Janice Windle & Donall Dempsey!"
**** 'em!"
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
IT IS AT ONCE
( for Monica )
It is at once
nothing and everything.
A simple incident
on meeting.
"Your shoelace is open
Mr. Dempsey."
she tells him in case he
shoud fall or stumble.
"I know that love
but I can't get down to it."
So, Monica Sweeney
kneels and ties
my father's undone shoelace.
This simple act of compassion
and respect for his age
achieves for him
almost Biblical proportions.
It's almost insignificance
a tiny treasure."
"It was like being Christ..."
he will tell me after as
only he could tell it
each telling bringing tears.
"...having his feet dried
by Mary Magdalene's hair."
Even in his dying
he will recall it
" that lady helped me
whenI couldn't help myself
she was kindness itself"
It was at once
everything and nothing
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 4:38 AM UTC
This...this Blue Plaque
business is
distressing to say the least
and rather intrusive
don't you
think?
I mean when
did it all start?
DONALL DEMPSEY
...THIS!
DONALL DEMPSEY
...THAT!
I mean...who cares?
HERE IS THIS HOUSE
DONALL DEMPSEY WROTE...
DONALL DEMPSEY
LIVED HERE WHILST WRITING...
Maybe it's a Government
tracking device.
Donall Dempsey...
PAUSED HERE FOR THOUGHT!
( No! I ****** didn't!)
Whatever I do it seems
a blue plaque is more
than willing
to tell you.
Time was when
they waited until one
was sufficiently
dead and famous
to commemorate
one's efforts
at living
and Life.
But, now:
holy cow!
When I got back home
I found "home"
had just been turned into
( yes you've guessed it)
THE DONALL DEMPSEY
MUSEUM.
I even had to pay
to get in.
"If your'e Donall Dempsey
( 'the' Donall Dempsey )
then I'm Schrödinger's ****** cat !"
The crowd all laughed at that.
But I did get a concession
for being old and decrepit.
There was a sign
telling me not to
sit in
my favourite chair.
And they had gotten
facts wrong.
I had written this...before...that.
I looked at the manuscript
of this poem
the usual scribble scrawl
made more precious
by being
preserved under glass.
It was like being an episode
in THE TWILIGHT ZONE.
I glanced up
at the Blue Plaque
positioned just
as it happens
above my curly
confused head.
HERE DONAL DEMPSEY
...refused any more to be
part of
all this and
left
the poem.
Yes folks...
DONALL DEMPSEY HAS LEFT
THE POEM.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
'DAMN THAT JANICE WINDLE & DONALL DEMPSEY
. . **** 'EM!"
January & June
were having fun
hanging out together
not just for
sweet alliteration's sake
but because
- they could.
And they had always
secretly fancied each other.
Time had taken
a holiday.
Not an every day
occurence.
So they took
advantage of
this once
in a blue moon
- happening.
Monday & Sunday
were in bed together
( don't ask me what
they were doing ).
A century & a second
were gazing into
each other's eyes
amazed to see themselves
reflected there.
The hands of the clock
were spooning.
An hour was courting
( such an old fashioned word )
a beautiful young ahhhhh
moment.
Time itself
was sulking
because the lovers
weren't paying him
any mind
what so
ever.
They seemed to live
in the "...now, now, very now"
( as Mr. Shakespeare puts it )
scattering their smiles
here and everywhere
see them blossoming
into squeals and laughter.
A new millennium
had just turned up &
was at once
( "Wot de...!")
press ganged
into one of their forever
kisses.
**** that Janice Windle & Donall Dempsey!"
Time throwing a hissy fit!
**** that Janice Windle & Donall Dempsey!"
**** 'em!"
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 5:01 PM UTC