written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Wednesday, 18 June 2014

What's that there? It's mine I found it, finders keepers. No you can't have it, it's mine, get off.

I 'found' this while looking through old blog posts;


I'll tell you a tale of a man
he began to imagine he could put a little bit of his soul into these paper models, give them life
BAM! a curdle of new poetry is born
Hell, we go in hook, line and sinker for the bugger
a plan was made and the evolution of the Dead Good Poets had begun

Make your ears large and pointy (ideal for hearing red-hooded little girls)
Resolve to be nice to small children even if they stink of poo
Avoid eye contact
when I stand up at the next DGP meeting
assume I'm overdosing on mince pies and turkey sandwiches

1 comments:

Damp incendiary device said...

A curdle of poetry - that's a good'un :-)

Just wondering what a Turkey sandwich OD would smell like. Probably a small child.

I think this perfectly sums up the last five years for the dgp :-)