The Bullet Pen

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Lament of the Grave digger

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A bulleted man.

By lies while alive he thrived

And now here he lies still

A life faintly lived

A ferocious dog he never barked

Just doodled his brave thoughts

Winning wars on papers that nobody read

And now I have to dig his grave

I of all people

Have to dirty my Italian designer suit

Have to make his epitaph

Tribute to an uncelebrated poet

What on earth am I supposed to write?

Here lies he who signaled left then turned right?

Am I supposed to shed a tear too?

A tear for him or for my poor hands

Getting blistered by this hard rock

Should I follow his wish?

And make his grave a foot deeper?

Forget him Mario

Rest a while now

Puff a light; pillow your head on this tombstone

Watch those eagles flying in the sky

The only mourners at his funeral

Mourning this poet

Who loved life but never lived it

Until today

If she was worth the bullet he took?


David Dedi



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