Biography of Dean Meredith
Above all, I am a romantic. Above all, love conquers hate. In essence, I write about human nature.
My poetry has been compared to that of Shel Silverstein and Charles Bukowski.
I don't care for self-written bio's in the third person, and I find political correctness to be utterly offensive.
A very cute, smart girl once said, " never bore me" , and that was good advice.
If you like to be entertained, then please read my words. If you feel nothing after reading them, then you're probably already dead.
Dean Meredith's Works:
Stray Cat Café
The Black Book
Dean Meredith Poems
Stray Cat Café
On a dreary day too poor for a name, He dragged himself down to the little café, Flat white and a paper, always the same, He fumbled for coins and something to say,
A Stranger Comes
Her good eye Saw me coming Her bad eye Saw something else
The slow motion farce It has me by the throat All those mindless forms Closed door meetings
And yes I smelled the paper Of the letter that you wrote me It started with a saying That at first I couldn’t follow
Cars Have Feelings Too
We all break In different ways The stone chips On our paintwork
The desperate midnight clawings Laid me wasted, blue and black The constant sand-paper gnawings Exposing me bare, unclad, off track
There go those happy endings There they go All those lovely happy endings There they go
Just write And it will be Just right Not for critics
Butterfly & Bee
He offered imperfection And said it was for free I settled for deception Knew he wouldn’t see
A Dark Wind Blew
What was that? The wind said As it breathed … Death
I need to let you know In case you’ve forgotten Or never realized to begin with That you’re all beautiful
It is night and the jungle lives Excited monkeys chatter Birds call and answer A full moon colours leaves trees grasses - green
Panning For Gold
Another day Down the mine And up again The hole grows
Crime & War
war crimes propaganda
A few innocent words
Nothing is said
Time passes, she waits
One day they quarrel
It comes up, his distrust
Then the embrace, her mood
Their cruel passion ignites
Forgiveness, with doubt
He yearns for how it was