Creaturemag poetry

Welcome to the final release in our 3 part poetry series. To coincide with National poetry day Creature has been releasing poetry from our favourite wordsmiths throughout this week… Enjoy!


Dexter Selboy
Gary from Leeds
Ju Shardlow
Richard Purnell
Thom Kofoed


you watch the clock…

and its all for those great days
when the house is empty
and you can lie in the bath
smoking badly rolled cigarettes
screaming at the top of your lungs
cos you’re only mad
when someone else can hear it

and you pull at your face in the mirror
reading your poetry
from a book like Ginsberg
to the most beautiful applause
arms swaying
imagining the blood on the walls
your objects smashed to pieces

get into bed hoping that you’ll die
because otherwise it’s tomorrow for you
and that requires some thoughts
and you’re all out

the best two weeks of your life
should have been your only ones
because you finally figured it out
and you’re not going to keep it
and you can’t let it go
and many men have been jailed for strangulation
but this
is the most cowardly kind

come in number 18
your time is up
and you throw your oars
and drift

I should stop listening to Mahler

Dexter Selboy


Well-earned break

They got their certificate
Comfortable seating
Quality food and entertainment
Nice spot, geographically
By the coast but good transport links
Yep they got their certificate
For excellent customer service
They poke the shot in the arm
With a slight suggestive smile
Just enough to make you think
You’ve still got it
Apply the electrodes with a wink
And half a promise
Oh they got their certificate
So relaxed I’ve gone limp
What a fortnight away!
Thanks, Primary Care Trust.

Gary From Leeds


One man’s early recession memory

Ejected from the charity buffet: Mikey banker
got pissed off at life and went forward-rolling in St James’. 3am.
His briefcase stolen by pelicans.
They came back for the Moet but
he’d already hurled it at the menaces.
“At least the gym membership paid off.”
friends consoled.

Ju Shardlow


My landlord

I saw the house in the winter
Boiler’d broke, it was cold
There was a flood in the kitchen
Wasn’t normal, I was told
Rugs and sofa were all ancient
Maps of Sussex on the wall
Maps of Sussex on the wall
My landlord

My landlord, he was an artist
Only worked with things he’d found
Brung in seagulls, foxes, badgers
Dreamt of ships run aground
Created strange dioramas
Gothic visions for the home
Gothic visions for the home
My landlord

My landlord, the women knew him
He weren’t like other blokes
Had himself romantic notions
Always wore an old waistcoat
In the summer, he wore a boater
See him cycle down the coast
See him cycle down the coast
My landlord

Now ol’ Len he never done much talking
Always showed a great reserve
He liked digging in his garden
Think it helped him with his nerves
Played me all his vinyl records
“Tribal beats, son, have you heard”
“Tribal beats, son, have you heard”
My landlord

He fell in love with a painter
She was blonde and had two sons
He became quite dynamic
Got the damp and the pointing done
In the end, we hid our feelings
Shook hands and I was gone
Shook hands and I was gone
My landlord
My landlord

Richard Purnell


This is a brand new thing

I never knew,
What it felt like to want every moment between us
to move faster than they do,
to want each second to be a second spent with you.
to want each now
to be a now
we experience together.

I never knew,
until you
that I could get so tongue tied,
tripping over words that would usually have my tongue glide
and accross
and under
and through

I never knew,
until you.

Moments without US make me wish
I was even one step closer to where you are.

Thom Kofoed