I've got a crate, huge stack of that Nuka-Cola,
Escaped briskly from the Super Mutant torture.
Enough caps for a decent plasma rifle so relax,
Governments are gone, thanking God for no tax.
Trying to up my levels and pick up decent perks,
Enlisted in some factions via those robotic clerks.
Completed missions but some are rather tough,
Done deals with ghouls and bartered off the cuff.
Used my Pip-Boy to apply stimpaks and buffout,
Encumbered with lots of weight, I want to shout!
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Author:
Shaunmatthewcpoetry (
Offline) - Published: April 24th, 2026 02:55
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 47
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments5
This is pop poetry at its best bright and boisterous with flash imagery and meter beat. Well done
Thank you (:
Most welcome
Nicely done.
Cheers.
Good write SM.
Thanks pal.
Shaun, this carries that chaotic survival vibe with a wink…bartering, grinding, scraping by, all stitched together with those in-world details that make it click. It feels like a snapshot mid-journey, not polished, just real. This clicks. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thanks pal, I do like a bit of Fallout.
different from your usual verse - enjoyed it..
Appreciate it.
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