dead man stuff

I wear yr shoes work

boots you left good

as new & yr coat

I hung on the line

 

shook yr drawers for pills

loose change gold

fillings rings

tender notes

 

frm yr son Dad

not the best but mine

& a photo of him

I laid aside

 

for now nicotine

gum because

cigarettes is

so expensive

 

fucking government

tools to match

boots & junk

which I can sell

 

I feel like

such a cunt

but shake it off

in the morning slog

 

I let the kids

have the ps

but will give it back

because Iā€™m decent enough

 

if your folks ever come

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2 thoughts on “dead man stuff”

  1. thanks Dean, & fair comment. the poem was conceived by real stuff going on. But by the time i edited & re-edit etc, it’s was quite removed from any reality I’m familiar with: the poem suggests that I am frisking a dead man for what i can get – gold fillings etc, which i have never done. But, i keep unearthing things about myself which displease me. I’m sometimes loose with morals, but i suffer for it later. Serves me right.
    šŸ™‚ i notice you have the poetic skills to express certain emotions (anger, passion etc) without having to use the ugly curse. I’ve started cursing again, which is very cool to a contemporary audience! A lot of my first drafts are full of curses, but usually i have the sense to cut them.

  2. Hi Mark I can’t tell if this is a ‘story’ poem, in the way bruce Springsteen writes characters in his songs and sings from the “I” or it happened…the grunty-ness of the word which sounds like ‘Punt’ suggests the ‘character’ has a history of letting himself down?

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