"A man is a wolf to another man",
What utter nonsense! What a silly thing to say!
I see no wolf-like qualities in the hearts of men,
No shy, retiring qualities, or unerring loyalty,
And certainly haven't noticed that men ****
Only when absolutely necessary for survival.

Perhaps it is I who am being foolish though?
As I stare deep into the noble eyes of the wolf
And see no hint of malice, or greed,
Or religious and political ideologies,
Or desire for such petty things as man wants.

Yes, indeed! Surely the fault lies with me,
For I am human, and can't begin to understand
Such simple things that those wild beasts can
Seem to so effortlessly comprehend- compassion,
Love, respect, and sense of unity.

Men are not wolves in the eyes of other men. No,
It doesn't describe the potentially ruthless way
We act upon meeting a stranger of our own species.
I wish such accurate statements as this held sway;
Men are like men to other men- **** homini ****
Since we've proof that men will oft rip men to pieces.

You told me I'm a lion,
That concerns itself much too often
With the opinions of sheep.

I worry too much,
Let's be honest.
I apologize too much,
And it hurts not to say sorry for that.

I am afraid
Almost constantly,
But overcoming my fear
Drives me
To be
Who I am.

If I am a lioness,
I am a queen,
And then I ask of you,
With a crack in the demand of my voice,
Be my king?

You claim I could not hurt a fly,
I could not hurt a soul,
But it is a choice,
Can't you tell?
To sheathe my claws
And not bare my teeth.

I could choose to be vicious,
I could choose to be cruel,
But vapid venom has no interest to me.

I choose to show weakness,
I choose to be vulnerable,
I choose to be
The me I accept.

Maybe I shouldn't concern myself
With the opinions of sheep,
But some sheep are wolves.

Though,
I suppose,
With the king of the jungle
At my side,
There's no need to fear
A pup that's too big for his britches.

When we were joyfulness,
we were secret fireworks.
and when we were bitterness,
we were wolves in plain sight.

I've harkened dark trails, nonexistent of earth. If we went across the spring or across the Snake we'd be bush whacking for sure. I had been on packed earth, trails of dirt on the daytime, not the late midnight snack of predators as I slowly moved past their game trails. Moose and black bears hovered in the willows, while my footsteps fell out beneath me, up to my knees, up to my calves, couldn't somebody have stopped this. Our spotlight blew out, but later I found out the batteries hadn't died. It was just the hold button was locked my fearless spotlight alive, like three small pots of honey, we slowly moved through the thicket, not a creature moved its digits, not even a cricket stridulated. Oddly peculiar we crept around each bush, only to find horse, bear, and cat ****, the bear's so fresh I could squish it. Heavenly fodder, please lead me astray, from everything that's bigger than I, living on these back-trails. Because all I've got is my OKC should a grizzly be hot on my tail. If I bleed I know evil should find me dead or eat me for certain.

There are wolves in the forest
I'm the moon to which they howl

Thousands of stars ******
I'm the black sky in which they lie

Leaves fall from the trees
I'm the wind which carries them

Branches crack and plunges
I'm the sound of devastation

Saplings grow and evolve
I'm the light which guides them

Shrooms chatter and wonder
I'm the mellow forest bed

Trees stand as giants
I'm the solid ground of rock and soil

I am Everything

and too late you remember
you were not raised by wolves
but by vicious humans
and their family ties
are not made of
nylon threads
strong and colorful
everlasting
but of cotton
softer, yes,
but easy to break

This is the loudest the music goes
I have nothing left to drink
still, all around me are the wolves-
circling...
get on with it!
you devoured all
the beautiful things
already.

Sometimes you can't win, you can only hear 'em talk. They might take your haircut and clothes, your jacket, and blame it on you for that. Some they say their ships coming in at this hour or that, but who can tell when they're riding the shadow of a ship or if they're just laying in the river waiting as all their clouds move passed.

She only takes a step if she can collect many stranded eyes. She walks right out of cities and leaves all the husbands cryin'. Her dignity has gone, her past is waiting up ahead. She's a loose cannon posted on the sea, and aimed towards land-locked places paved in red. But who can tell if they're just laying in the river waiting as all their clouds move passed. Her pockets filled with rocks while she draws the water to her breath, it's one of some confusion that most men and women will never half.

Soon the eyes fill up with blood, the pupils turn to silt, the skin turns into leather, no one I know yet has gills. Roof to the river, sun to Adam, this gardens very rude. **** your brother, slay a goat, and make an apple and serpent stew.

If the sounds keep getting louder, and the eight ball won't turn back. Keep your hands out of your pockets, don't walk into a river, go home and have yourself a bubble bath.

Save the cursing for the evening. Make your name something quite unique, this is today's new tomorrow, a pain from each bother, a whole in the ears not supposed to be there, don't wake up, your life is better, as long as your dreams they keep growing, while you keep working to keep yourself fast asleep.

The quarter isn't what it was, the arrow yields no more. And even if you've got 10 fingers, the man wants you to use more. Keep your arms in the ovens. Keep your disease to yourself. When the violence gets here, you'll find it's only you and her, and you both only love yourselves. The poison is growing, the water can't be drank, if you flick your cigarette ****, you might have your own Nagasaki in the middle of your kitchen sink.

So let the rocks do the talking. Let your slave work wait until the fall. It's so unpredictable picking poisons, that's why The Wolves do it in the river or on the kitchen floor.