I have a puppy who loves to run and jump.
I have a Chihuahua that is named Trump.
He was born on the 14th of January and he's special indeed.
I now have two Applehead Chihuahuas, that is their breed.
Trump is some feisty and he's as cute as he can be.
He is my new pet and he means a great deal to me.
It's nice to have two dogs that are purebred.
I love both of my Chihuahuas who are Appleheads.
Inside, is this thing about me, it has stolen my voice,
It's like ash has seeped into my lungs from an invisible fire fueled by hatred, it has broken my will to stand on two legs, a gentle world slipped out from under the covers,
In my arms a purring cat that reminds me of the ocean waves crashing along the shore of a place I once felt at peace, it's frustrating to lose track of such wonderful memories,
I feel insane, but I am calm and understand that this is just a phase, chapters on the moon are written in the clouds in day
I realized now, either this mind is too creative than what I think capable or my abilities have left me with only formal beginnings, so breaking the mold has not left me with many options,
Indeed sleep and food will provide healing when it seems fit, but for some reason I would better wish luck could do some providing, this hard effort has made me sick,
Indebted to silence, my rain check has finally been checked off, the papers folded and what's left of the ink is saved for my last breath.
Incurable, only by my diagnosis, and only a poet am I, not a doctor, this in lies the problem,
Indifferent about such touchy topics, resorting to backtracking my statements, fair enough?
Indecisive? so are the current topics of the new world conspiracy, such a soft melody replaying in the foreground, as my mind goes out the back.
"when we live in Oregon, things will be brighter, i know it."
i can't see your face in my mind anymore
i see the shadow of your smile, and the shape of your hands and feet
the soft lines on your thighs
but i can't see your face
your kitchen has dark spots now
i'm choosing to forget your house
and the names of your dogs
but no matter how hard i try
i still imagine waiting at your door
and seeing baxter
barking at me
You have been barking too much
and you seem to have lost touch
with what is acceptable behavior
ignoring the example of any Savior.
The community is also sick and tired
of the noise you make that’s inspired
by the standards you wish to impose
on other people to follow your nose.
You think that when barking you don’t drivel
expecting those whom you bark at to shrivel
by the magnitude of the noise that you make
so as to impress all others for your own sake.
You’re really nothing but a mongrel after all
and don’t give a damn about others who call
often out to you to shut up and stop barking
but continue with a selfish clamor marking.
Could it be those whom you bark at are being
a threat to your own position you’re seeing?
Or is it perhaps due to the diminishing customer base
as the neighborhood is now aware of your sad case?
The time’s coming when you’ll get a kick up the arse
so the incessant dreary noise you now make will pass.
For not hanging out with you as much.
I miss you.
And not keeping in touch.
You are beautiful.
Your hazel brown eyes.
You were big,
Everyone but me cared about your size.
I don't know why you made that life ending choice,
But I know you knew.
And that cruel, cruel, man.
We all miss you.
Man is cruel, Man is kind,
Far from home, on arid land,
A litter fell on Arab sand,
Mother’s milk did taste so sweet,
She foraged out on hostile streets.
At night as humans sealed their fate,
By leaving each to nature’s fate.
For food and water the bitch did grope,
That pup and her could live in hope,
Each win brought forward sunlit dawn,
The pup awaits her new day morn,
Till one desperate day the padding paws,
Of mother did not return at all.
Weak abandoned, struck with stones,
The starving pup abandoned home,
Cruel sun and humans tortured her,
And she decided she’d had enough,
Of constant hate and absent love.
Allowed by Law of God above.
She crawled with last remaining force,
And whispered with her throat so hoarse.
“Leave me be - beneath this bin,
When it’s over, throw me in.”
A week of cowering, ‘neath the steel,
Giving up each moment to mortal wheel.
Turning closer to the end,
Of pain, despair and suffering.
Whenever humans did come near,
With dehydrated constant fear,
She buried herself deeper down,
Away from hope in hopeless town.
One noise persisted above the rest,
But human kindness cannot expect,
A dog-eared dog in plastic shroud,
To welcome those inhuman crowds,
Whose only act in her short life,
Was taunts and stones and sharpened knives.
Still weakness and despair did come,
And to the gentle hand succumbed,
Unguarded neck - she did not care,
If flash of blade would cease her pain.
Light? Blinding sun! And sweet caress,
And milk? And water? And what is best!
The soothing stroke of calloused hand,
The coolness given as air was fanned,
And vaseline to smother ticks,
Head and shoulders, giving licks,
Of love and thanks to one whose kindness,
Battled through the Basra blindness,
The fate of Warpaws, so far away,
Was followed close by those who cared.
And all of those who did donate,
Were praying for her to be saved.
There’s millions more, but there’s no ban.
On trying to save the one you can.
So Alex, Jen and countless more,
You fought the fight but knew the score.
The chances of surviving past,
Emaciation and then at last,
Damage she’d never overcome.
Still - you tried to save this one.
Think on this now all is done.
Her final week – no baking sun,
Nor plastic melted to her skin,
But care and food and water in,
The faith of he who wrapped her up,
In tattooed arms of endless love.
Sun rises in a dry sky,
we walk a dirt road,
the dog and I.
Rounding a bend
little Mickey halts,
one paw lifted.
Three deer—a buck, a doe, a fawn—
senses ablaze with the twitch of ear,
quiver of nose, blink of eye
take our measure.
The buck has a handsome rack
but I can see ribs, count the bones.
I once saw a doe maul an Aussie shepherd, cracking
the skull with her forelegs to protect a fawn.
Mickey with uncommon good judgment
stays frozen by my ankle.
A moment, mild,
of silent negotiation,
the domestic and the wild.
With such hunger the fawn, at least,
might eat from my hand
before the buck spears me.
The doe breaks first, up a hillside so vertical
her hooves can’t hold. She slides back,
then on a switchback leaps again
followed quickly by the fawn
as the buck remains, impassive and supreme,
gentleman and protector,
what you wish in your own father, frankly,
and then he follows with that head-bobbing walk
balancing antlers into the parched brush
holding our gaze until vanished.
With the Oroville Dam about to burst, obviously we are no longer dry in California. I wrote this poem last year when we were suffering a five-year drought.
When the subject is rain, be careful what you wish for...
Oh, dog. You stick
your blues-yodel furry face
over the edge of the bathtub
to gaze at me with such concern,
then lap-lap and lap
at the soapy water
with that sloppy tongue
while droplets of steam
gather in your beard.
And newt, reddish brown,
mornings you move slo-mo
before the blood warms,
yesterday in a pan of water
for the cat you stretched
except the nose.
These small things
fill my heart with love.
When we're tired we sleep
And when we sleep we dream
And lately i keep seeing this dog
Can someone tell me what it means?
He's a little Akita hound
Pointed ears and scrunchy nose
I named him Tanuki
Because he looks like an undersized fox
With no weasels to hold
He's little, tiny and loyal
But only exsists in my head
He loves snuggling by me, apparently
He's loves nodding his head
So why do i keep seeing this adorable dog
As i hover over the cliff of sleep?
So can someone please tell me,
What do my dreams mean?
And just what are you expecting to see?
Two eyes just like mine, hands that ache to feel flesh, there is something to fabricating love,
Adequate to say that these threats will go unheard, and through the years I'll get to say I told you so, yet I still feel like a failure,
Cross check the references, comb the referrals, you've got the experience for every job but the one you want,
I find security in preserving the real me,
Over thinking on what should be said next, when just their presence will suffice, trying to explain to yourself how to not sound crazy, all the while talking to yourself.
We all do it,
Some things are better left in that awkward silence, the longer it holds the more said than words could ever entertain, no pure thought is safe,
An invasion that's become obsession,
Even if I tell you all my secrets, there is still apart of me I'm missing, not even I can find it alone
My ego tends to show through,
I get it confused with my personality, which in turn doesn't show much as my skin, cursed to oblivious stares,
Then again I've been talking to myself,
Usually just saying hello, possibly singing some tune, or my favorite describing exactly what I'm doing in confusion,
"What am I writing?"
A taste of reality from the insomniac ramblers program, a show free to watch, and real physical participating with the whole gang,
Hold on tight to this thread,
Your future with me will not be what we expect, I recommend strict regimes for personal viewing times, our minds are hesitant to believing what's in the mirror
I see me, and I see you