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www.djburnham.com, Poetry written i n the 2000's, Poetry, Lyrics, Prose, David Burnham, D.J. Burnham, Dave Burnham


Brighton by-the-sea

The Prince built a seaside home,
With minarets like onions,
Put stables in a nearby dome,
Succumbed to gout and bunions.

The Palace pier was Moore's bequest,
Now garish, loud and shiny,
And Birch's pier is going west,
Surrendered to the briny.

Thundering hooves,
Beat time to the flutters,
The winner approves,
But the loser mutters,
Thoroughbred bets,
Put through their paces,
With the car boot's ghost,
Of a day at the races,
Brighton by-the-sea.

Gone are the days of old Jack Tars,
It runs on caffeine, clubs and bars,
Buses christened after stars,
Annual bike rides and vintage cars,
Weird street theatre,
Direct from Mars.

Some of the buildings,
Are cracked and peeling,
A few of the locals,
Know that feeling,
They should've opted,
For some spiritual healing,
Brighton by-the-sea.

Neon spaceships trip the light fantastic,
Above a clubber dressed in plastic,
All to the sound of the busker's refrain,
In the Land of Bohemia,
Down the North Laine.

Wild fruits parade with Pride,
Where there's nothing to fear,
And less to hide,
'Cos everyone knows,
That anything goes,
Brighton by-the-sea.

As another year draws to a close,
With candle lanterns and toasty clothes,
Fireworks burn above the clocks,
Which goes to prove that Brighton rocks.

Copyright ©DJBurnham 2005 All Rights Reserved

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