I was a housecat stuck in a tree
Breezes felt like rollercoasters
Slow down! I screamed
But the world spins
That's what it does
We're in the same dream
Dwelling upon
what we lack
No one wins on the same team
Comparing twins
Is that what this is?
Slow down! I screamed
From the very back
That's where ill be
But the big dogs have little legs
And Im a housecat in a tree
sitting top shelf
With a mighty bite of my own
To make them bark at themselves
"Hold your ground" as trees often say
"Nothing up here can touch you
Now I see you're a bit pale
But an hour or two
That dog'll be turning blue
The world spins
Only as fast as you want it to"

Poodles are sweetest of dogs
Once i have a cute poodle,
O' my very own poodle
Darling-- i owned him for a
Long time, Until
Early one day--- oops
Suddenly he was broken

Alex Fontaine Jul 12

Sandals slapping hard on glued stone,
Sun hitting hard soaking my clothes,
I like to pretend Im alone,
Empty houses vacant windows.
Dog shit smell wafts from my plastic bag
Scraped from a  carefully manicured lawn

Dog pants pull me from bush to bush,
Past awkward neighbors with no eyes,
Cant talk now, always in a rush
Another encounter to despise.
The trees could take the houses back over
Birds bees and deer make for good company.

My boy is four and loves the dirt,
He loves to smell the sunflowers,
Pulls them from heaven down to earth,
To softly imbibe their powers.
I stop for a minute and bow to them
And breathe their delicate blessing as long as I can.

It is time to change the way things are, scratch that smell from our noses, like piss in a bottle chucked out the window while going 90,

The free fall fogs up the glasses on a blushed face, 40oz till we down the sound of crying,

Lie across the ocean
Lie across the land
Send truth over and watch it slip through the cracks,

Breached news of frustration calls "Canada is coming, what the fuck is America doing,"
We do our best to travel against all odds, piloting a spoon made of silver into a greedy pocket originally meant to feed those eating mud pie, baking in an ever dying sun as fish float up to the surface,

Choking down the salt water to avoid drill, give them a gun instead, it will protect our false memories and concocted purpose,

This was paid for by ink soaked bones working in minimum oxygen to the brain, featured on rolls of film stripping off clothes covered in lust,

Taking hold of a crowd with merely this voice, conducting an audience with bed knobs and broomsticks, rhythmically grinding the fuck awry, taste this sun from the lips of a fairy, mystical or not we were there to receive,

Open our hearts via chaos trained messages, massaging back pains to the point of tears, electromagnetism therapy causing the lights around the dance floor to flicker, moving at incomprehensible speeds relating colors between points B to Z,

On numbered grids the scale is curved to fit the description of another one biting the dust,
And as we finally rest on cold stones the Panic sets in.

I've not written enough words to be ignored yet,
Between the heel and cuff you'll still find me speaking,
If my book is to long than let me break it down,
If you can't read step outside and hear my verbs on the wind,
If I write to much for you to handle quit now while my poetry is short.

Jules D Jul 3

On the days I forget how to feel,
I lose my fingers in my dog’s soft fur
and allow myself to hold him.
His hug, the way he presses his nose into my hand,
nips at my fingers,
is softer than a human’s.
This strange wonderful creature,
sharp teeth and beating heart and simple mind that he is,
I think he will save my life.

hi. long time no poem. so. a few days ago, my dog, whom i wrote this about, passed away. today i opened up my poetry documents, trying so hard to distract myself from tears, and instead, i found him everywhere, in little mentions and lines and words, and here - i found one poem for him entirely. i wrote this poem ages ago but sadly never published it while he was with me, and now the weight of it - of him - lays so, so heavy on my chest. (i still can't describe it properly. maybe one day.)

all night long
your old song
all night long

your friends  
growl  howl
your old song

all night long
mad decibel gall  
your old song

one pelts stone
guard flings stick
your old song

your old song
your old song
all night long






On street dogs, their liveliness and noisy spirit
Ryan Holden Jun 25

If only we were
Dogs, unconditionally
Loving without thought.

The world would form a
Bond, that would be unable
to perish or break.

I like the nastiest bars,
Those where the waitress is called names
But she doesn't care 'cause she's too kind
And tries to keep it all clean for 400 a month.

Those bars have drama
Whole worlds and stories continuosly entangling,
Whisky on rocks, vomits and shouts
Here comes Rita the waitress to clean it all again;
Dogs bark in the streets
Women cry in their beds as men get drunk
And kick the innocent trash can over a discussion about gibberish.

The loner cat lurks the street at night
Hunting for hamburgers that fell off the trash can,
The drunk men start a fight,
'Here comes the police!' 'Run-run!'
One falls, gets the blame and a free trip to county jail,
Three others join a party and feed the whores
Money and cock --- tails.

Finally, the last one goes home
To beat the crying wife over the same junk
And the repressed anger only a coward can hide.

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