Forgotten traces of a pencil – I’ve been built
by words; public reputation is the means of
being good at your own public relations.
As love’s repetition is loving those you’ve
fallen in love with, off the pages of life rather
than the scripts of perfected fiction.

And to believe your love is perfect is to rival
God's – where you become your own judge;
biased as much, for the flesh desires to feed
only itself; the flesh isn’t the perfection of love.

For everyday of life is the day for all equal dogs,
moral or uncouth,  posterity rests its favour –
Still a dog must know not to bite the hand that
feeds it; as it seeks the hand’s favour – wouldn’t
we all like to find favour in the hands of our Creator,

What are dogs to their Creator?

the curious cat jumps the fence
game to chase after a butterfly –
to fill its stomach
       perhaps this is my view on love

while the old dog remains in the yard
chasing after its own tail –
hoping to bite onto success
       as this is my view on human regrets.

The carrot and the thread are still
my calves and hooves, motionless
chewing on a bitter pill
eyes take in the stillness

A slight neigh to sigh a sigh
the usual sounds and usual grunts
the clicking tongue, a pitch too high
pavement castanet-ing
under screaming sun

The carrot and the thread begin to sway
my calves and hooves, they shake
chewing on spit and year-old hay
eyes that want to take

A step and a clack, forward I move
A step and a clack, the carrot too

Well I c-n't
Type with the letter "-"
My puppy fell -sleep on it
So it might t-ke me
- minute to s-y I luv you too
Bec-use his n-se is n-w -n the "-"

Her: All men are nothing but dogs!

Him: Yes, indeed… but have you ever pondered the breed of each man? Some are fiercely loyal, others stand as protectors, a few are brash and aggressive, while some are merely oversized infants. You get the stubborn ones, the overly playful bunch, or grumpy ones. And then, there are those wretched few who tarnish our reputation, who just love to **** all over on your pristine carpet.

All men are indeed dogs, just depends on the one you got.

My dog can't see,
He goes under the table and paws at me.
Asking me to pet him, which I do.
But how does he know,
What hand is petting him if he can't see?

Born at night by the discarded mom
Loving and caring life goes on
My brother and sister fun abound
Until the day that man came around

New life with the man of pain
Running for hours I don't feel sane
Pulling the rope makes me strong
Hit me and beat me I wish to belong

Eyes bright, I’ve seen the light
Eyes red, he beat my head
Eyes filled with hate, is this my fate
Eyes go gray, he has nothing to say
Eyes no sight, he made me fight
Death of a fighting dog

Teach me to **** with out a care
Throw me a cat or dog, hate
Maybe after the fight, love
Into the pit this is finely it

He grabbed at my head I tore off his ear
We fought in the pit as they cheer
As we fight it soon becomes clear
Lost the fight and my end is near

Eyes bright, I’ve seen the light
Eyes red, he beat my head
Eyes filled with hate, is this my fate
Eyes go gray, he has nothing to say
Eyes no sight, he made me fight
Death of a fighting dog

A sleepy village,

the doors and shutters are closed --


Dogs barking loudly.