deepundergroundpoetry.com
Mister Morrissey
for Rob
...and if you were a better man
I might not like you as much.
I’ve got no wish
to turn the kettle on and make us tea.
I’d rather make love in the road
and wait for a London bus to cleave us
in two, a gruesome concept piece,
a mockery of love,
but also its justified remains,
Mr and Mister Morrissey,
voraciously Bisexual
and me, depressively Homosexual.
you give yourself to wankery like this,
the poet of men who are coarse, stupid,
regretful, moody, lost,
and in the end as human as
a takeaway carton,
dropped in a gutter and smelling of shit.
...and if you were a better man
I might not like you as much.
I’ve got no wish
to turn the kettle on and make us tea.
I’d rather make love in the road
and wait for a London bus to cleave us
in two, a gruesome concept piece,
a mockery of love,
but also its justified remains,
Mr and Mister Morrissey,
voraciously Bisexual
and me, depressively Homosexual.
you give yourself to wankery like this,
the poet of men who are coarse, stupid,
regretful, moody, lost,
and in the end as human as
a takeaway carton,
dropped in a gutter and smelling of shit.
Published 27th Jul 2022
Author's Note
“Everyone grows out of their Morrissey phase. Except Morrissey.” - Morrissey
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 1
comments 4
reads 418
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
You clever swine! Brutally honest. It's refreshing to read a perspective of M that is neither sycophantic nor woke. Also a very good poem. The reference to "bus" is deliriously poignant & visceral.
It's always been about the voice & lyrics for me. Having said that, wouldn't have seen him 102 times, if there wasn't some kind of warped connection. Maybe he's the last voice of my adolescence, the forever breath of yesterday. Dunno really. 'Never Played Symphonies' remains my funeral song. I expect them to be dancing in the aisles!
Over the years I have collected a group of fellow fans and will share your verses with a few of them.
It's always been about the voice & lyrics for me. Having said that, wouldn't have seen him 102 times, if there wasn't some kind of warped connection. Maybe he's the last voice of my adolescence, the forever breath of yesterday. Dunno really. 'Never Played Symphonies' remains my funeral song. I expect them to be dancing in the aisles!
Over the years I have collected a group of fellow fans and will share your verses with a few of them.
27th Jul 2022 11:25pm
For me he’s a bit like the dark side of Ian Curtis. You could argue that Curtis was already all dark side of course, but really he was more bruised and self-destructive. (Obviously!)
When I think of Ian Curtis I think of the front room of a cheap flat, with a single lamp on a low table, and it’s night and “Disorder” is playing. When I think of Morrissey I think of a bastard in tight jeans flirting with passerby in a rainswept street at about 11:00 PM, caught in the light from a kebab shop.
When I think of Ian Curtis I think of the front room of a cheap flat, with a single lamp on a low table, and it’s night and “Disorder” is playing. When I think of Morrissey I think of a bastard in tight jeans flirting with passerby in a rainswept street at about 11:00 PM, caught in the light from a kebab shop.
28th Jul 2022 12:19pm
At the end of 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' video, a door opens very slowly & shows an empty rehearsal room where the band had just been filmed playing. One of the most impactful images in popular music. Who knows what paths Curtis would have taken? He certainly wasn't contrived, whereas Morrissey planned all this in his teenage bedroom.
JD's The Eternal is the song I struggle to hear. I actually find Unknown Pleasures, bizarrely, an upbeat album. Closer is the suicide note.
JD's The Eternal is the song I struggle to hear. I actually find Unknown Pleasures, bizarrely, an upbeat album. Closer is the suicide note.
Anonymous
28th Jul 2022 2:09am
The emotional subtext is what makes this poem memorable to this reader.
The ending is a bit un-charitable to men the poet ostensibly finds himself attracted to--rather than condemning these types, comes off as a bit lacking in self-awareness: the external world is ostensibly a refraction of ourselves. As Cavafy explains:
You won't encounter these monsters unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
I guess this is referring (obliquely, for this reader) to M's penchant for mma-types--buzzed hair, jailhouse tats on their knuckles, etc.
Likes his toxic masculinity.
Which gives the death-wish at the beginning a poignancy.
There's a great French film, La Femme d'a Cote, where a woman imagines something similar.
The ending is a bit un-charitable to men the poet ostensibly finds himself attracted to--rather than condemning these types, comes off as a bit lacking in self-awareness: the external world is ostensibly a refraction of ourselves. As Cavafy explains:
You won't encounter these monsters unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
I guess this is referring (obliquely, for this reader) to M's penchant for mma-types--buzzed hair, jailhouse tats on their knuckles, etc.
Likes his toxic masculinity.
Which gives the death-wish at the beginning a poignancy.
There's a great French film, La Femme d'a Cote, where a woman imagines something similar.
