he said I'm a rabid dog
but dogs don't bite their masters
unless they've been cruelly punished
one can't expect intelligence and logic
to enter into their dog-minds
like humans can, if they can, but then
we've all got a blind spot, haven't we?
and it's usually someone we can't
conquer with our dedication to what
works magic for some, you know, the
pack....

I shall one day write a poem about
the one I find most fair
the girl I've known since distant youth
who now has silver in her hair

One day I hope to have the skill
to paint her kind eyes, emerald green
which with a glance melts my heart,still
holding the most love I have seen

A voice I can pick from a crowd
seldom ill, oft filled with laughter
attuned to be heard just by me
in this life and ever after

Fractured psyches, Frankenstein
practicing professions
guinea pigs all in a row;

always on, slightly off
Wikipedestrian logic
dimensional dementia says it's so.
~
Plastic personalities
put Achilles heels foot forward
recycled dreams float high above the roof;

erogenous enablers
emotionality outcries,
dimensional dementia has the proof.
~
anti-skeptic scandalousity
shituation's bleak
if something threatens to back-up then, just let it;

THE SMELL OF DEAD RACCOON
Down a two-lane highway
one midnight near Macon, Georgia
an eighteen-wheeler came barreling through
like a bullet on a target straight and true.

the air was heavy with the smell
of dead raccoon.
warning to all woodland creatures
Death was speeding in their direction.

a deer at a crossing
heeding no warning
was found the next morning
wheel marks across his middle
and as most animals do
smelled a little like dead raccoon too.