I wish that I was a dog.
I would do anything to be a dog.
A bird or a cat,
but most especially a dog.
Get fed.
Go sleep.
Good dog.
Have some ******* fun.
Good dog.
Get fed.
Nothing more.
Can always do it.
I wish that I was a dog.

Do I get another?
The game's still on t.v.
It's getting on for 10 p.m.
I've been sitting here since 3

My wife said I should call her
But, my phone is in the car
The car is in my driveway
And I am at the bar

I stopped in for a minute
7 hours now have passed
I've had 11 beers, 5 shots
And man, I think I'm gassed

I think I left my keys as well
With my phone inside the car
I think that I should call my wife
And tell her that I'm at the bar

I only live three blocks away
I went walking with the dog
I stopped in just to grab one beer
******* where is my dog?

I'll order up just one more shot
Okay, two beers as well
Where the hell'd I leave the dog?
Is that the last call bell?

i hope my thighs
never shrink to the size
i wish they were

where else would my
beautiful furry friends lay?

if anything i hope
my thighs double in size
making more room
for furry friends

Shakespeare’s Dog


in the theater tonight, the notion of a poem-potion
courtesy of Shakespeare's dog came unbidden

So when home arrived, was unsurprised that this
very peculiar pug was farting before my own front door.

get lost, I announced got what I need from your boss,
but before I could kick him across the floor,
the pug spake thusly:

this dog knows the boot too well,
it is parcel of this dog's life of no quality,
but if you give me shelter tonite, I will provide,
share some of Speare's un-Published Works
and you can claim it as your own!


kicked that dog across the room,
(having pity earlier I let him in and enter)
told Jim, (that’s what I called him)
he can stay the night, or long as the sun rises up
and goes down unbidden, but, if I ever
caught him plagiarizing, selling sonnets on the side,
I would report him to the ASPCA and the Poet’s Union.

The American Society for the Poets of Conscience Alive -
might have his low hanging ***** cut off in retribution.

he laughed out loud, rhyming funny, pontificating:

well mate,
thanks for the soliloquy,
me ***** long time gone,
but what I know and what I’ve seen
if tale-told you, and you were to listen,
you would keep me around as fodder
for your artistic soul.

in return chappie,
you need only provide me a rug, a fire,
A/C for the languid summer eves,
fodder for me body, and your boots,
far removed from my hindquarters.

We spoke much thereafter,
turns out he served his poet-masters
in many ways, more than a mere footstool.

his snoring keeps me awake some twenty years later.
his love for country music makes me put him on nice days,
outdoors, his headphones securely strapped round his double chins.

ugh that pug. became my best becoming love, old friend,
one of us will pass someday and an elegy composition,
the other devotee will furnish sadness utterly becoming.

so if a farting pug before your door you’ve  found,
take him in, give him water, an amply supply please
of Carrie, Trisha and Chaplin-Carpenter for his immortal soul,
but beware, he might try to sell you
some of my words, as your own.

It’s time to say goodbye
Always loyal and forever true
Evident this day would come
No one will ever replace you

Pictures and memories
Times of good, times of bad
By my side, never left
Being it happy or sad

Goodbye old boy
Best friend to me
When I get to that farm
I know there you will be

I don’t feel it much
But when I place my hand
On my bed
And my puppy
Sleepy, fluffy, innocent
Curls up around it
She passes on to me
A bit of her tranquility

You are the most annoying dog I've ever seen
You whine and beg to be put on our laps but when we do
You whine and beg to be put down
You get car sick whenever we drive you around
You have an ugly high pitched bark

You aren't even that cute

But when you were on the verge of death
We felt bad for you
And that, my friend, is why you still exist in my life.