tightwhitepants

behold a pale horse

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Pet Shop Revolution by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

Pet Shop Revolution

Pet Shop Revolution - 1st draft There are spitting kittens there are dogs that fight there are fish that snarl and birds that bite. There are canaries with contrary manners; Jack Russells with muscles like bags of spanners. There are hamsters that you keep in a cage full of hatred and hamster rage. There are cynical guinea pigs with squinting eyes that scheme and dream of your demise. There are budgerigars that bear a grudge curmudgeonly birds the glare and judge from their poisoned perches of prejudice while down on the floor the dormice hiss of the day when the pet shop unifies and all the pissed-off pets will rise with

Twat by tightwhitepants, literature

Drinking Song by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

Drinking Song

It’s my only vice, she said with a grin I don’t want your advice just you, and the gin. I don’t care a jot you’ll say my life’s gone astray just share that bottle of sweet chardonnay, and I’ll be the fire alive in your hearth your heart, your desire the salt of your earth. I won’t pour out my troubles how they came to pass, just pour me a double and pass me that glass. I won’t weep on your shoulder won’t burden your heart I’ll be your boulder - I won’t break apart when skies start to thunder, through the rain and the snows we’ll never go under while the whisk

Eat Your Greens by tightwhitepants, literature

Inclement Weather by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

Inclement Weather

It was a butchered day in April, the day you were born, beneath a sky of bloody swabs and bruises limping in from the East, I remember it as being a cold stone baptismal day your mother screamed you into, the pain bunching her face and your father’s fists white-knuckled and tattooed blue loose at his side as he paced the ground and stamped but the earth would not swallow. On your fourth birthday they gave you a kite, and the gusts the first time you flew it ripped it from your hand and pinned it to the twigs (bare and cauldron-harsh they were) of a creaking lime its lopsided tail etching a woeful grin in a face foolishly half-f

No Hawkers Please by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

No Hawkers Please

She can't abide hawkers, my mother-in-law, so she's placed a stern notice upon her front door that states bold and bluntly to visitors who call: "No Salesmen, no Hucksters, no Peddlers at all!" Neatly coiffured, and on their best behaviour, young men clutching brochures about Jesus - Our Saviour; old gypsy grandmas selling posies of flowers that they swear, through cracked teeth, possess curative powers These things make her cross, but there's something that irks her more: when her front door won't open up because of the circulars shoved through her letterbox by a bored paper boy - "Loo's Cleared! There's No Job Too Small - Just Te

Half-Penny Thought by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

Half-Penny Thought

You’re a half-penny thought in the back of my mind, just a whimsy, a waste of a fragment of time. You’re a telephone number I forgot to write down; you’re the least of my worries, the last in a line of a long list of wishes I’ve wished for. Yes, your voice is a song that I hum now and then, not for long, just for fun, never starting again round and round in my head, nowhere near my top ten, this refrain won’t remain, when it’s over - Amen just a tune that I once might’ve danced to. You’re a memory, fading, a faraway sound hardly there, barely heard, just a wisp on the wind like a melody play

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Pet Shop Revolution by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

Pet Shop Revolution

Twat by tightwhitepants, literature

Drinking Song by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

Drinking Song

Eat Your Greens by tightwhitepants, literature

Inclement Weather by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

Inclement Weather

No Hawkers Please by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

No Hawkers Please

Half-Penny Thought by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

Half-Penny Thought

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Raindance by tightwhitepants, literature

Half-Penny Thought by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

Half-Penny Thought

Love Song for Dagmar by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

Love Song for Dagmar

She’s a glutton, she’s no kitten; she can stuff her face for Britain See her sitting in her Citroen, you can spot her from afar. She is buxom, she is brazen, see her bottom, it’s amazing, She is straining at the straplets of her cantilevered bra. She’s an airship, she’s a trawler, still I worship and adore her She’s a randy landslide riding in her flash French car. As a goddess, she’s the oddest, and she’s vulgar and immodest She’s the empress of breast, she is my sweet Dagmar. She’s no figment, she’s no fragment, she’s a fat fridge magnet and she’s sticking like a limp

Madly in Love by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

Madly in Love

I saw you from my ambulance, dismissed you as hallucination brought on by drugs and abstinence. But something stirred me from my trance - a certain raddled radiance a spittle-spotted elegance that won my admiration. Escorted to my padded cell they took my belt and both shoe laces. What saved me from this lonely hell - suppressed, oppressed by Seroquel I heard your voice and smelled your smell, I thought that you were there as well, at rest in my embraces. And from that day we sealed our tryst - We’d live with total dedication. I’d be your psycho Therapist, and never let you slit your wrists; (I’ll tie you up

hurtmaledotcom by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

hurtmaledotcom

We met across the internet, and words were our caresses; these emails were my fingers which I fumbled to undress us. Each r-o-t-f-l we sent was magical and precious, but even love like this will have its pitfalls and its stresses. When I wrote to her to say I needed my space for a spell, she answered with four-letter words – no, she didn’t take it well. I thought I was in heaven, now I’ve found myself in Hell since she dipped her poison pen into our love’s ink well. Now I’m sending this sad postcard home to poppa and to momma with a heart that is as heavy as an old Lancaster bomber. She handed me a full stop

Counting for Nothing by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

Counting for Nothing

Fourteen hundred paces wasted walking to your door, and every time a pointless pounding headache - sore, resounding, raw; what follows next? as you'd expect a shocking exhibition of that bloody mix of tears and spit and semen spilled across this gritty floor. and from the day that we last spoke I've counted twenty-four. How come I'm your ignored - you must have grown so bored of me and now my fingers, gnawed and nails all bitten paw through scores of letters better left unwritten - never sent, now torn and scattered, littered with my bitter thoughts unuttered, so utterly distraught I am, I poured a litany of scorn and lo

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Love Song for Dagmar by tightwhitepants, literature

Literature

Love Song for Dagmar

tightwhitepants

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About tightwhitepants

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United Kingdom
Deviant for 17 years
He / Him

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tightwhitepants

Jun 11, 2010

Hot Diggity! I dun bought me a Stetson!

0 min read

Why, I always thought a Stetson was one of those big old ten gallon cowboy hats of the kind that John Wayne used to wear, so imagine my surprise when I walked into a little shop in a one horse town on the edge of the Black Mountains in the heart of Wales, which if you don't know, is a state in the United Kingdom of Great Britain, and there I saw sitting on a shelf and just crying out for me to pick her up and put her on my head, was the hippest and the coolest and the sharpest trilby hat you ever did see, with a label swinging from it with the legend 'Stetson' printed big and bold, and a little brass Stetson badge pinned onto the band, and I

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tightwhitepants

Jun 6, 2010

For the record, I do not collect underwear

0 min read

I expect we've all at one time or another sent a text message or an email to the wrong person by mistake. Usually it's an unimportant and uninteresting mix up, such as when you email 'I've read the policy document and will respond at our Monday meeting' to a complete stranger at work, or accidentally text your accountant with a reminder to defrost some sausages for supper. Every now and then though it can be a little bit more embarrassing. Spare a thought then for poor 'Carrie' (name changed to protect her identity) whose text to me last Thursday is probably still making her wake up with a lurching sense of horror and shame. Now Carrie is a s

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tightwhitepants

May 29, 2010

I Don't Trust Downloads

0 min read

I don't trust this download thing. I don't understand the point. I uploaded a poem today - now I know it's not 'Dulce et Decorum', it's not the fucking 'Kubla Khan', it's just a bit of doggerel that nobody much will read in a few weeks time, I'm under no illusions about that - but already after a couple of hours it has been downloaded two times. Now what's that all about? Whoever downloaded it sure as heck didn't leave a comment, not even a smiley, nada, nothing at all. salshep (https://www.deviantart.com/salshep) and Adeimantus (https://www.deviantart.com/adeimantus) both kindly gave this piece a :+fav: - (thanks to you guys excellent taste as always) - but much as I'd like to believe it, I don't think eit