Dead Poets’ Society

 

Dead poets are safe

Dead poets are safe

Dead poets don’t tempt teens to do things that might chafe

 

Dead poets are safe

Dead poets are safe

If they weren’t in the ground they might be zombies

But at least they won’t be hipsters dressed in Fitch and Abercrombies

 

Dead poets are safe, O captain my captain

They don’t ever make comperes reach for the statins

Or rhapsodize about Mary Beard rimming them in Latin

 

They might be warlocks like Yeats,

Or Satanists, zealots, or even druids

But at least they won’t show up and start being gender fluid.

 

O Byron was mad

O Byron was bad

But he won’t come round with nipple clamps and slip poppers to your dad

 

Dead poets are deep

Dead poets are deep

They’re decidedly never self-centred creeps

Who whinge when you say it’s all about the exposure so do it for free

They’ve no bills to pay and no children to keep

So dead poetry gigs are incredibly cheap

 

Dead poets are safe

Dead poets are safe

Bring on your bullets Sassoon, it’s just a small strafe

Ypres might be messy

But at least it’s not Ferguson

And we all weep for dead white guys

But being reminded of my inalienable implication in contemporary structural racism is so terribly burdensome.

 

Lautreamont, Rabelais, Baudelaire, Catullus

Flowers of evil, necrophiles and pegging you with mullets

Suicide, infanticide, erotica, scatology,

Tentacled delirium, dystopic semiology,

Dead poets are pleasant

Dead poets are pleasant

You know fuck all about the past

Just like you do about the present

 

 

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4 thoughts on “Dead Poets’ Society

  1. Excuse the blasphemy, but – Jesus Christ, Dan! I was just having my breakfast I wanted to keep it in my mouth not on my keyboard!

    Yes, well, now using Oxford type praise. Very good indeed, son. Very good indeed. Slightly perturbed by the Mary Beard “rimming” it imagery that popped into my head but all in all a very good effort. A-.The minus is because my Earl Grey cooled in the process of reading.

    Sometimes I write haikus you know (albeit not very good ones) well they’re not really haikus – just three lines of nonsense really. Cast your eye over this one about Jason Statham ( I am a populist)

    Jason is very cool
    Even though he is bald
    Sometimes he wears a flat cap

    What do you reckon? Have I got a potential to be a poet?

    Anyway I mustn’t distract from your masterpiece. Excellent. My kind of kick-ass poetry.

  2. Pingback: Dead Poets | dan holloway

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