"racoons" poems - Hello Poetry

The rooster does crow at the break of dawn but five to seven a.m. is the hours of the dog "Time to wake up" Cheerful beyond belief face in mine dripping licking tongue tail wacking the dresser in perfect time. Hot breath not yours not mine but you know whose. Through the fog of the mind knowing it won't stop until food is served. I am never that cheerful at sunrise. Seven to five the birds and rats are in their time. Squirrels chipmunks deer everybody working their *** off to survive. I gotta go to work Calling in sick every day But one foot in front of the other And I am on my way. The crows line up on the garbage man's run The ducks laugh at every move you make but you take it in stride. The cows lay down to take a nap. But not I. At about five The bear comes sauntering down the street tossing garbage cans this way and that. The best part of work is the drive home. Neighbors come out of their houses to watch him. Power and hunger a dangerous combination But in a rare moment of neighborly cheer even a cocktail was had. He was big he was strong We gave him a wide berth but owwed and awed him along his way like watching fire works. Five to eight The hours of the skunk and you get very cranky through the PTSD of a mean and angry father and tires on the driveway. As darkness totally sets in the racoons come out making mischief on the roof batty as the bats that flee into my room. Those racoons the more you try to chase them away the more they come over to see what your doing. You look at me and wonder who I am Sometimes you snuggle up While the night birds sing. Three to five D.H. Lawrence called the hours of the wolf when madness and suicide remorse and dread reign Blood pressure at its lowest Heart rate at its slowest Breath down Body temperature as cold as the ground. Remember to not take very seriously what ever you think until with relief the sun begins to rise and doggy smooches awaken your time. ..

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Dec 29, 2013

Dec 29, 2013 at 12:13 PM UTC

sjr1000

Animal Spirits/Animal Hours/A very incomplete reflection

The rooster does crow at the break of dawn but five to seven a.m. is the hours of the dog "Time to wake up" Cheerful beyond belief face in mine dripping licking tongue tail wacking the dresser in perfect time. Hot breath not yours not mine but you know whose. Through the fog of the mind knowing it won't stop until food is served. I am never that cheerful at sunrise. Seven to five the birds and rats are in their time. Squirrels chipmunks deer everybody working their *** off to survive. I gotta go to work Calling in sick every day But one foot in front of the other And I am on my way. The crows line up on the garbage man's run The ducks laugh at every move you make but you take it in stride. The cows lay down to take a nap. But not I. At about five The bear comes sauntering down the street tossing garbage cans this way and that. The best part of work is the drive home. Neighbors come out of their houses to watch him. Power and hunger a dangerous combination But in a rare moment of neighborly cheer even a cocktail was had. He was big he was strong We gave him a wide berth but owwed and awed him along his way like watching fire works. Five to eight The hours of the skunk and you get very cranky through the PTSD of a mean and angry father and tires on the driveway. As darkness totally sets in the racoons come out making mischief on the roof batty as the bats that flee into my room. Those racoons the more you try to chase them away the more they come over to see what your doing. You look at me and wonder who I am Sometimes you snuggle up While the night birds sing. Three to five D.H. Lawrence called the hours of the wolf when madness and suicide remorse and dread reign Blood pressure at its lowest Heart rate at its slowest Breath down Body temperature as cold as the ground. Remember to not take very seriously what ever you think until with relief the sun begins to rise and doggy smooches awaken your time. ..