#dogdays
Every day that I choose drugs instead of myself
I feel myself become less me and more him.
i feel my mental possibilities begin to shrink
i can feel the weight of the thoughts i think
i am not him until i walk by a mirror quickly
the reflection is uncanny, i am my daddy
another **** will fix me
at the pub drinking pink whitney
my Mary Jane with me
repeat and screech
old dog i need to teach
new tricks, discover peace
Jun 25, 2025
Jun 25, 2025 at 11:07 AM UTC
"Happy Face Variety Store"
Has new owners,
From Punjab.
They are way friendly.
I was renting the movie
Far From the Madding Crowd.
Ben, the owner's son, said:
Many people are renting movies tonight!
Yeah, the dog day's of summer.
Explanations and examples ensued.
The change in season.
Replace old anxieties with new.
The surety of autumn expectations.
The heat swirling in the ceiling fans.
The setting sun on Lake Huron.
All the dog days.
And then Ashna said:
Like the dog curling up to sleep.
They are way welcome.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 8:54 PM UTC
Cicadas whine metallically
In trees along the sweltered streets;
Wasps and hornets arc angrily
Enough to cause me fear.
Late summer’s not my favorite time of year.
Flowers nearly done;
The tulips, irises, and poppies
Long since seeded out;
They’ve had their fun.
Bedraggled day lilies remain,
This is the beginning of the mums.
Bees seek latent nectars
Or tap into their golden stores
To supplement their bumbling runs.
Lawns foist a burnt but stubborn edge
While only thistles still refuse
To bow to August's incessant heat;
Their spikes sprout poisonous defiance.
The dog’s left yellowed pools of dying grass;
I admit the neighbors’ lawns surpass.
I suppose the time to gather
Drying excrement’s returned, alas....
Keeping up appearances is hard at summer's end.
Ennui of season full and just past ripe
Leaves tired old men like me
A chiding cause to gripe.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
Inside the meaning of ourselves, the poets and songwriters look.
Just the thought of tears makes my spirit hurt!
Always looking, never seeing the words through the rain.
After the dogs of summer stop barking the dreamers breathe,
After the rain of the evening, the poets and songwriters learn.
In the stillness and cool-ness the dreamers rejoice!
All the ghosts have begun humming again.
Beside the river of tears, my mind thinks.
After the rain, sunny memories sing!
© 2014 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC