Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 05/06/22

Esoteric Bullshit

I grew up with
The negative.
Not firstborn,
Not youngest,
Not the girl,
I was the
Also ran.
Anything that
I did well,
The ol’ man knew
Someone who
Did better.
Anything bad,
The ol’ man knew
Someone who
Had it worse.
I could win a race,
A contest, do
Well in school,
Get a degree at
The university,
Earn medals
In bloody battle
And that was a
“So what”. If I
Got injured, like
Breaking a leg,
He knew a guy
That had both
Legs ripped off.
Another case of
“So what.”
My father died
Before I retired
From the military,
Before I became
A published author
Listed as such in the
Library of Congress,
Before I became
The actor with over
One hundred films
And numerous plays
To my credit with
Awards for same,
Before I became
A Scottish laird,
An ordained Bishop,
And a Dudeist priest.
Of course all of that
Would be just another
“So what”.
Dad’s gone but my brother
Carries on the tradition
With comments about
Everything I do. Indeed,
‘Shoulda Coulda’, as I
Call him, is just full of
“So what”s. Full of
“Shoulda” done this,
“Coulda” done that.
And I say, “So what”.
You can all just “Fuck off,
You negative assholes.
At least, I’ve done and do
Things, other than, like you,
Just run the mouth.”

As We Exit

It’s startin’ to seem like
The only time you hear
About someone you know
Is when they’re dead.
The obit section of the paper
Has more pics of familiar faces
Than any other part.
Yeah, I guess that’s life.
Some of the write-ups are
Spot on, some just vague.
My write up’s gonna be a
Pack of lies and colorful tales.
I mean, like, let us not, at least,
Be entertaining as we exit.

The Old Outhouse

Well, the old outhouse
Still works okay. Not
Too many splinters
In the ass. Tourists
Come and laugh at it.
Don’t know why. It
Once was a thing of
Real necessity same as
The Sears and Roebuck
That usually went with it.
That is, if you were lucky.
We, too, get a kick out of it.
Not the outhouse, itself,
Just a laugh at the tourists
Who totally freak at the
Rubber snakes we plant
And when they try to
Fish out the fake C-notes
We float down on the ‘soup’.

©2022 Daniel S. Irwin All rights reserved.

Daniel S. Irwin

Daniel S. Irwin was born, raised, and is back in town at Sparta, Illinois. His card reads: Artist, Actor, Writer, Soldier, Scholar, Priest. He has won awards for his art, acting (over 100 films and 30+ stage productions), writing (nine books and work published in over one hundred magazines and journals worldwide), retired military (Air Force and Army), graduate of Southern Illinois University/Carbondale and has attended four other universities), and is an ordained Dudeist priest with a Ph.D. in Divinity (not bad for a heathen). Once worked as a medic in an institution for the criminally insane…but didn’t notice anything strange about the inmates. Latest online work can be found on Horror, Sleaze, Trash Magazine and Beatnik Cowboy. He would love to move back to Europe but fears the plague.

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