June 19th, 2018
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STEAK BONES, steak dog bones, steak dog treats, homemade dog treats
June 19th, 2018
I sit in my cage
and eat raw flesh from metallic bowls
twice a day
I return to the open holes
You pass the meat
and expect me to be happy
caged in an iron coffin
yet convicted of no crime
You pass my cage
as I do the time
He throws me a peanut
She tosses me a candy bar
It waves and taunts me
shouts and vents
disrespects my existence
and expects me to be content
We are the ones who watch you go by
We are the ones who wait to die
We are the ones who hate you so
We are the ones who truly know
that you are the beast
trapped in your own mortality
begging forgiveness from some soiled priest
They come in droves
They drive their cars
They walk by our cages
throw morsels of genetically altered food
and throw our minds into horrific rages
Who is the animal
that traps my kind
Slaves to your world
filled with hate
filled with utter fear
passing my prison but shedding not a tear
to walk the corridors of iron that rust
and show sympathy and empathy
ironic gestures of trust
You enlightened creature
who fear my kind instinct
It is you who have been fleeced
It is you who are the beast.
June 7th, 2013
Another ember crackled in the fire
as the whispering winds of past
echoed silence outside my door.
The rocking of the smooth pine
kept time like an aged pentameter
slowly winding down.
And the rhythmic swaying
slowly lulled my bones to rest.
A tickle in my eye misted my squinted greens
and the thought of death
gave a smile upon a wrinkled face.
The crackling on the floorboards
moaned under the weight.
And life dripped into the decade
old grooves that had worn its
way into the tracks that I had chosen.
The last pass of the pendulum
as the sickle makes it mark.
The chair ground to a halt
as the pianist clamped the lid on the box.
January 5th, 2012
Tell me a story blind man for you are the Storyteller.
Tell me about the darkness
and how it sheltered you in its womb,
and pitied by all.
Tell me of the water.
What did you see?
Greed in the hands of power.
A glance the other way.
Did it hurt knowing the truth?
Perhaps that is why you are blind.
Tell me of the skies,
the beautiful charcoaled sunsets,
the hazy blanket of smog and the cold damp afternoons.
Were the toxins gentle on the animals?
Were you also blind to this?
From the holes of useless bile did remorse crave to see
that which I was forced to remember.
How can the Storyteller describe
the blistering flesh burnt onto the skulls.
The young spitting into my face as I ravaged their bodies.
Please tell me, Storyteller!
At your bedside I did read to you
whispered the tired old man.
Not a prouder father one could find.
Though blind to images of your world,
I saw with my hands and loved with my ears.
I tell you in honesty and in pain,
wept the old Storyteller.
What I did I did for you.
And to wear the crown of thorns
I would do all over again.
What I did I did from love,
I did for you.