The last line might turn it into another Poor-man-dead poem, except for “shrapnel for our conscience” which I see as a painful wound on the collective sensibility – maybe because of the medal, or just maybe because they all agreed with the dog. Provocative.

You're missing apostrophes throughout. "vagrant's" for one, and "let's". I'm stuck on him wearing Versace. Maybe make it clear he's wearing handmedowns? Clearer than "shadows", I mean. In all, one of your better.

A bum dies (head tilted) in either a refrgerator or cardboard box filled with polystyrene packing. I thought it was in the alley next to a Versace store seeing that the odds of so many people walking past a dead bum while wearing Versace are quite slim odds.
The copper is pennies. The Lab goes blue(sad). Neon reepers(ambulance). Muzzling(sirens) his grief.
Medal from King George(quarter).
The pauper box is planed.(His casket's ready)
Lets just bury him
he's shrapnel for our conscience
and I'm late for my meeting.(Forget about him. It'll only bring us down. I've got better things to do.

How'd I do?

Man thats quite powerful. The image of the tramp is so noir, a site we don't stop to see. Well done, Howard.

sadly, a very common scene of today's world. the obscure references (so wonderfully deciphered by ALChemy) were a bit hard to follow. the mention of king george flipped me back in time and i was lost about the meaning of neon reapers.
well done, very cerebral portrayal of events.

No poor person owns a golden labrador, the poem therefore has no resonance with anything I have ever experienced and I work in Mayfair for fucks sake. Complete rubbish, kindly change to a mongrel.

really enjoyed this piece. i think you have captured human nature so perfectly and showed it so well in contrast with the love of the pet. very well written.

The latest victim of the multiple self-voting bug. So sad, Caducus. So sad.

Awesome stuff, I don't care if no vagrant owns a Labrador, to him I expect it was one. Wonderful poem.

I know you are full of commentary on this one, but I think I'll take a stabb at one, after reading your poem & other's comments...Their were quite a bit of references that I didn't "get," like when the dog turned blue...I have to say that is pretty hard translate that into a siren's lights-too random & out of the blue for me at least. I must admit I had my difficulties with "neon reapers" as well :( I did however, think this poem was well thought out & surfaces a man's best friend/ love emotion, that brilliantly contrasted with human greed-inevitable human greed. It touched me, not going to lie. I might be a sap for that, but because it was able to surface a little emotion after I read it, I give you two thumbs up on this one :)

~Sunny

How dare the barrister be knocked off top spot i self vote a zero.

okay someone else do it i cant.

Dear Caducus, I think you should be aware that, by clicking on the legend "view voting details" under the graph below, you can see who has voted how many points to you. By clicking on the IP number of an anonymous voter, you can see if the computer has identified it as being associated with a member or not. I have done this in this instance and it seems you have voted yourself a 10 no less than 5 times! Whilst I feel entitled to vote myself a 10 once occasionally (pour encourager les autres), I feel this is excessive and might get you a little bit of mockery from people less charitable than myself. To redress the balance slightly I gave you (anonymously as you will see) a 1. Best wishes.

cunt