Grrrrr aaaaann aagh aaaaahh naah,
Aaaang n' aghhh ahh grrrr aaaagh naaah,
Grrrrrr aaagh aan naaaaang aaggh!

you walk in
i'm standing there
spritzing lingerie
to make it reek
like high class prostitutes
do after a night
when the cash flow
is non-stop

"Hi how are you today?"
"Grumble, grrrrr, grumble."
"Can I help you find anything?"
"Well, grrrr, I want the bra, arrrggghhh, I've got on. LOOK AT IT!"

i slowly approach,
postponing the inevitable
for as long as possible
as you lift your ancient
once black, now grey, turtleneck
and release an avalanche
of layer after layer of blubber
that jiggles ever so slightly
as it is disturbed by the movement

it is covered in a thick forest
of black hairs and
i swear i see a herd of lice
scurry off as i cautiously
lift my hands to inspect
the tag laying in the depths
of the jungle that lays thick on your back

the moment i make contact
with your skin
it takes all of my willpower
not to pull away in disgust
as my fingers go
for a ride on the slip n' slide that
is your back
it feels as if you have been
bathing in Crisco since
you were just a child

as i finally grasp the
worn and stretched material
and turn it over
i'm not surprised
to find that your bra
feels as if it just went for a swim
in Onondaga Lake
mmm, sweet, sweet radioactive sweat

i fumble around looking for
any indication of a tag
as you begin to tap your
foot with no rhythm at all
and suddenly you exclaim,
"OH, I cut the tag out of this ages ago!"
and storm away back into the mall
throwing bows and ***** looks
as you go

i'm left staring
as my sweat saturated hands
thinking,
"**** Victoria and her secrets."

between poems,
an old curmudgeon,
am me-he,
thorny gray stubbled face
available for
knife sharpening and
tongue lashing

cranky and cantankerous,
bad tempered,
ill mannered, me-he,
until they slip me a
paper aspirin

place before me a clean sheet
Presto Chango,
the ole man displaced,
(the boy who remembers to forget,)
in his heart~place, installed,
though the
briar and the thorn
never from his visage depart,
just briefly, Red Sea parted

kiss me surprised,
stumbling about in the
wee of the rambunctious hours,
stubbing me eyes upon
a poetess, a kindred soul
who claims my pointy moniker that
earned I,
only after years
of indentured servitude,
Briar Thornly,
so unnaturally misnamed,
yet she of but,
few and the tenderest years
rights me up
with young words

her poems sweet treats, sweet eats,
departing me delightfully unfairly from
my grumpy good graces,
look below if you dare risking,
a hazardous glancing upon her works,
if you like to, grrrrr, smile

Déjà vu
Oh to write or not to write.
My mind says I don't have a choice.
Love has made a home in my heart.
I suffer not being able to
open the door to my inspiration.
I toss a paper ball into the trash.
Chapters of my life turn into dust.
I bury those words in my mind.
Words that I used to think
were wrapped up in true meaning.
A break could **** my block but
my pencil spins out of control.
I'll conquer all of those lost attempts.
Piano's and violins phase in and out.
Wheels of creativity turning in caution.
The clock sounds gong,gong,gone.
Inspiration died at the start of a vacation.
On the page there was the suicide of passion.
The ghost of my muse will soon reappear.
My emotions need to break free from
the shelter of my imagination.
I"ll write till the dawn of poetry.^


read her poetry till dawn
or face my thorny faced
muse,
and perhaps now you understand,
at last comprehend,

**a rose by any other name
would smell as sweet as a
thorn

I would write with letters bold
and stylish flare to break the mold.

Italics letters, I would like.
To make them seems a fright.

The very size of any font:
big or small is what I want.

Style settings won't transfer
Boring text makes me grrrrr!

Editorial control,
That is what I want to know!

The monster under my bed is scared of me...
Yeh weird
I saw it watching me when I spoke these words but the name it self was like I was Grrrrr
Hold your weight and stay in a right place and say in Jesus name.
Your gunna find something weird

Oh! Aged pup with whiskers grey
slowly bounding, the want to play
offering barks at break of day
sad eyes long at the empty tray –

can you still: jump into the truck,
catch a squirrel with a little luck,
swim with fervor after a duck,
walk through the house covered in muck? –

one hundred pound lab/ mastiff mix
memories come complete with pics
got him 10 weeks, already fixed
11 years later… with a couple of tricks –

Looking back at love and good times
river tromping and gravel roads which would wind
joys and sadness’s fill my mind
thankful as I draw the last line –

knowing illness which would not be postponed
will take my pup away from his bones
leaving me broken, sitting here all alone
I will bury him in the hills he roamed  --

some will say it’s just an old dog
be of good cheer and lift that fog
leave behind the mire be free from the bog
try something fun, go for a jog

some folks just cannot understand
love from pets is a helping hand
no one better in all the land
as if this were all just pre-planned

some greater mind knew our limit
granted a companion, perfect fit
like bat to ball or glove to mitt
one who will beg, roll, stay, and sit

protecting friend or listener
alert you to danger with a simple grrrrr
so much better than a kitty cat purr
with variations on length of fur

yes, dogs are best for humans in life
next to a child, loved one, husband or wife
they stand right with you despite any strife
and have teeth and claws better than a knife

so go on and take a little advice
even if you have the risk of some lice
and dogs will do nothing to protect you from mice
but in bad times they will even eat rice

they prefer leg of lamb or some other meat
but in evenings so quiet they will lay at your feet
and be at the door for people to greet
while offering something to periodically beat

but animal abuse is against the law
and you’ll do some time if anyone saw
you beating a dog with a log or scrimshaw
besides who could hit such a cute little paw

no, ‘tis better to love all our animal brothers
and give them the love we show to our mothers
without going overboard and taking them as lovers
….no ******* the dogs in the bed under covers! –