Mr. Dressup

Mr. Dressup

 

Butternut square, he often solicits

Condoms stain a beige cardigan

Sperm teases his, filthy, red chin

Mr. Dressup, our childhood hero

Tickle trunk empty, needles spent

Wry, scab encrusted, smirk begs

Knees bruised, a worker's injury

Mr. Dressup, our childhood hero

Casey pimped for a dime bag

Warm, liquid gold fills his veins

Passed out in piss and vomit

Mr. Dressup, our childhood hero

Finnegan runs point for a job

Coombs knifes the shopkeep

Red Bull and Viagra stolen

Mr. Dressup, our childhood hero 

Polluted, red, crotchless hotpants

Eating warm shit from the diaper

On the corner, on his knees

Mr. Dressup, our childhood hero

This poem was written as a literary juxtaposition. I wanted to take a beloved icon of my time to create a themed poem that totally destroys the beautiful vision of his fine work. In no way do I dislike the great work Mr. Dressup did. In fact, he was a favourite childhood icon for me growing up. This poem was fun to create. Sometimes in literature, it is fun to throw yucky poop on something beautiful.