never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers
never compare people to golden retrievers

dust cloud heavy
in an apricot sky
cottonwood mucker
under ambrose pale
whippet and shepherd
mill at the earth patch
yellow birch hangs
over red bench park

combine shavings
in crack rust brown
scissors chips fall
at the back stop
whiskey jack looters
sing patented chords
siblings (and 2 wheel enthusiasts!)
give thanks

joyous retrievers
master the criss cross
bare maples stand
at settlers way
barred owl and blue jay
whistle in the fore-wind
ghosts
and goblins
pull on the seeds

wind gusts belt
over the west gulch
a blood rush churns
in the chilling fall morn
hallowed grounds still
at the midday
quiet reflections
of the afghan
and hound

jumpers unite
at the oxbow
route runners bend
(on a sultry foray!)
meadows exposed
in the framework
ball parks empty
with pennants past

barrel dirt favors
the brew house
crimson and copper
find bracken ridge gate
harvest hands savor
the honey and hops
blankets of color
for a winter's hatch

brush fire kept
under steady peruse
bark bites fly
and embers glow
pine cones drop
from the timber tops
3 wick candles
grace the dinner place

shiver and ******
at the piper's call
cob web dew
on the shadowy gates
a chilled mist mellows
the season's return ~
poets and artists
and dreamers awake

I feel as close to you as how wind is to my skin,
I feel as powerful with you as how I am with a gun.
I feel as courageous next to you as how sky divers are with working parachutes.
I feel as sad without you as departing rain drops from dark hovering clouds.
I feel as bored dismissing you as a good book read by a blind man.
I feel as far from you as how the visible sun is if you look from Earth.
I feel as clouded missing you as the moon is clouded by nebulae.
I feel as dejected promising you as government cronies over promising development.
I feel as lonely not seeing you as Golden Retrievers are when their masters are not around.
I feel as blatantly bloated next to you as over-heated air balloons raise up the shiny sky.
I feel as speechless around you as unprepared speakers in a conference hall.
And at the end, I feel as close to you as how my eyes met yours then cheekily, we detached our sight and pretend that we were never close at all.
I feel close to you still
but even closer
to sin.

where were you when I came out?
seventeen
asleep in a Philadelphia suburb
with that man
you called
boytoy
lover
caccoon
because everyone likes to feel weeks of web
crystallized between their sweaty toes

I was an unremarkable specimen
called yoda because of the hairs
on my ears
a baby with a flawless twenty digits and
hands like a
painter’s
but love was spring
and had to wait for the grass to green
and the retrievers to shed their
winter coats
so their owners could curse
and huff
and sneeze

you
precious
Kurt Cobain fan
and all things hip/hop
with those glasses and that hair
asked to be my sister
but caught unaware
with **** in your shorts because
you never saw me coming
and
how alike we were
and
what if we met
somewhere
someday
and you said
yes
this is my brother
this is the one who I lost
in the spring

Pamela , O' loving Pamela , My beautiful & loving Pamela
We started our beautiful life together , We shared so very much
The mid too late '80s , Were beautiful & so full of the future
That no one knew , Except for GOD , How much time we really had
And so we both enjoyed each other , We both shared so very much
From all of our 9 beautiful & loving Labrador Retrievers , ( Our Kids )
Too our Homes , Hobbies & our many Vacations in numerous states
The one thing , That never changed in all of our entire married life
Was that she Loved Me & I Loved Pamela , My sweet Pamela Jean
We both worked very hard , We even worked side by side for S & P
S & P ??? . Wasn't just a business or even just a job , It was Our's
Sometimes it seemed as though the business actually owned Us
But looking back , There was a lot of times when Pamela & Me
Laughed & cried & Shared beautiful times & bad times together
From our 1st Labrador "" Callie "" , Too our current 2 Labradors
Reagan Jean & Shelby'Anne Kelcee , And the other 6 Labradors
Jack'ie , CJ ( Callie Jean of Callie's Acre's ) , Sammy , Daisey
L.A.B. ( Ellabee ) & Kelcee Jean , Seven are now in Heaven with Pam
As I like too say , Pamela Jean has 7 Labradors , With her in Heaven
I have 2 Labradors with Me down here on Earth , I Love You Pam
I will always Love You Pamela Jean , I will never stop Loving You
You were always the Love of My life , And You always will be
As GOD is My witness , I promise You Pamela , Love is Forever
As You and I took our wedding vows serious on that day in July 1989  
For better or worse , In Sickness and in health , Till death do us part
We'll Pamela You're in Heaven now & I still Love You so very much
My Love for You is still On going , And our Love will never End
I will Love You for Eternity , As You & I , Will always be One
The time & the dreams , That We both shared Together as Us
I will never forget , My daily life without You , Is so very lonely
You're Family & Our Friends & GOD , And our 2 beautiful Girls
Are what is absolutely now keeping me going , Day in & day out
Until the day , That We both can & will be Together Again for all
ETERNITY - Just You & Me , Pamela & Me , Me & Pamela :

GOD BLESS ALL , Who read This - Amen :

[On my birthday]
                
                
At low tide like this how sheer the water is.
White, crumbling ribs of marl protrude and glare
and the boats are dry, the pilings dry as matches.
Absorbing, rather than being absorbed,
the water in the bight doesn't wet anything,
the color of the gas flame turned as low as possible.
One can smell it turning to gas; if one were Baudelaire
one could probably hear it turning to marimba music.
The little ocher dredge at work off the end of the dock
already plays the dry perfectly off-beat claves.
The birds are outsize. Pelicans crash
into this peculiar gas unnecessarily hard,
it seems to me, like pickaxes,
rarely coming up with anything to show for it,
and going off with humorous elbowings.
Black-and-white man-of-war birds soar
on impalpable drafts
and open their tails like scissors on the curves
or tense them like wishbones, till they tremble.
The frowsy sponge boats keep coming in
with the obliging air of retrievers,
bristling with jackstraw gaffs and hooks
and decorated with bobbles of sponges.
There is a fence of chicken wire along the dock
where, glinting like little plowshares,
the blue-gray shark tails are hung up to dry
for the Chinese-restaurant trade.
Some of the little white boats are still piled up
against each other, or lie on their sides, stove in,
and not yet salvaged, if they ever will be, from the last bad storm,
like torn-open, unanswered letters.
The bight is littered with old correspondences.
Click. Click. Goes the dredge,
and brings up a dripping jawful of marl.
All the untidy activity continues,
awful but cheerful.

Today I saw an ad on the TV for the good life
$129.99 and all you ever wanted delivered to your door in a box
Shipping and handling included
The man in the commercial had a big smile on
And a golden retriever by his side
Were sitting under palm trees
Smoking cigars...

Who doesn't want a cigar smoking golden retriever?
So I called up the toll free number and demanded a good life...

One week later the box came in the mail
"There's no way a golden retriever could fit in there"
I thought to myself
"Not even a puppy retriever
These must be the cigars"

No cigars
Just pills

"Of course" thought I
"Eating these will take me away
To an alternate reality
With palm trees, smiles
And cigar smoking dogs
Duh"

So I ate the pill and closed my eyes
Awaiting lift off
Like I've done so
Many times before

One Mississippi
            Two Mississippi
                         Three, four, five Mississippi...

And you know what happened next?
My **** got hard for hours
That's it

Who's the sick SOB
Who's idea of a good life
Is an unexplainably long
Lasting *****?

I alerted the authorities
Called the FDA
They must have the answers...
They just told me to visit the nearest hospital
Everything will be fine...

From that point on
I have been lost inside
And refuse to go outside
I shut my windows
And I lock the door

I can't make sense of it...
Why would I need to visit the docs?
I'm not the one thinking
Long lasting ******
Equals the good life

****** don't make retrievers smoke cigars
I'm not the one with the problem

Am I?

So, we’ve had a few dogs, all the same. Golden retrievers with bigger hearts than brains, that want only the affections of those who love them. And those who don’t. My parents love to say how our first golden, Euka, once tried to get in the car with a random woman, solely because she had a laundry basket full of towels, his favorite chew toy.

In my junior year of college, my parents adopted our third dog, yet another golden, with a beautiful, soft white coat, and no brains to match.

My father, mother and brother all sent me pictures of this magical creature, sitting on house furniture and looking like the dog we have always wanted. Little did I know, he was poorly behaved, and peed like a fountain when excited. That never seemed to phase my dad, however, whose always thought I don’t use the dog to his full potential.

“That dog is a chick magnet.”
“I know dad, I know.”
“Really, just walk the dog, and you’ll meet so many women. So many cute, young women. Look at his face, he’s irresistible.”
“Okay, I know, I get it. He’s cute.”
“Yes he is, and he’s yours, so use him to your advantage.”
“I’ll meet a nice girl, she’ll pet him, and he’ll *** on her.”
“If she stays she’s worth it.”
“Well, maybe I don’t want to meet any cute young women right now?”
“Of course you do. You’re 21. You’re at your prime, and I know you can do it on your own, but the dog, he’ll just reel them in. Trust me.”
“You just want me to take the dog for a walk? Or do you want me to get married?”
“The first one first. Then we can think about the second.”

Have you ever seen a sad retriever?
Of their true love, we are the receivers,
How many need to change a light bulb? None!
To them, there is a perpetual sun.
Tongues lolling, tails wagging,
Always smiling, never flagging,
Yes, we love our happy fur friend dudes,
With their positive mental attitudes!

I heard a frog ribbit
And decided to **** it
That's when I filled it
With my drill bit
And it turned into a dead prince
I regretfully winced
My hands I rinsed
And moved on

There's a mass grave in my backyard
Like an *******
I never thought it would go this far
It's a hassle
This giant hole
From acting cold
It's filled with princes and thieves alike
In this pit there is no light
No wrong or right
Only useless fights
And sleepless nights

As the bodies start stacking
My suitcase I start packing
But ambition to leave I'm lacking
So it's the wall I'm smacking
As the hole behind me gets bigger
My finger is on the trigger
Shooting at the deceased
Like they have a zombie disease
That restricts righteous release

This grave is swallowing my house
Yet I just keep wallowing around
Muting the surrounding sounds
That remind me of hell hounds
Barking from below
Regret they bestow
When they could've been golden retrievers
Instead they flung their molten cleaver
Their searing liquid knife
Causes my insipid strife
When the droplets stab holes in my skin
And then start burning me from within
Their weapon may not be solid
It doesn't matter what you call it
It hurts me all the same
So I try to forget their name

I dug my own grave
Now I must lie in it
But when everybody lies
That doesn't seem like such a big deal
When in this world it's hard to tell what's real
Especially the emotions people make me feel
When I have things they're looking to steal
So I **** them in my mind
But they take pieces of me
I'm running out of time
Which definitely isn't free
It's the main commodity
They seek to take off of me
That's why I must bitterly bury them
But my conscience continues to carry them

In another parallel universe we are still in love
We are holding hands in our house where every room is painted a different color because that is what I always wanted
We are sitting on our couch as you play guitar and our Labrador Retrievers run around at our feet
In this parallel universe we never went separate ways
We are constantly building each other up and drinking iced coffees at 7 AM while Jack Johnson plays softly in the background
We are lying together in our bed on a Saturday night after work and laughing so hard that we cannot breathe
We are sipping IPAs in our pajamas all throughout a lazy Sunday afternoon without a care in the world
We are brushing our teeth together in the morning and thinking how could it get any better than this?
In another parallel universe you would still be my soulmate and we could still be in love

Mozart changes the color
of eyes from deep blue
to see green.
Work with me and I'll
summon up everyone's
artificial ancient animals.

Sleek thin machines
whizz with mechanism
pumping out more and more
machines to make machines
to make metals
for more machines.
Shine chrome greased
and spinning while
white coated retrievers
pace exactly random,
occasionally checking
their clip boards.
Machines whizz on,
we could tune a cello
with their perfect hum.
We could tune a tuning fork
with their perfect hum.
Machines for materials
for machines that melt
and remold old machines
to new.  Born machines.
Wet black discs
slide clean downward
only to spiral
upward again.

Clarinet to oboe,
slurred crescendo
back down in again.

Then forward:
Back,
Up,
Left,
and left music
back down in again.

"Where's our end?"
and back down in again.

"I see the top!"
and back down in again.

"Talk to me, please!"
and back down in again.

"Throw me a float!"
and back down in again.

And sink, and sink
back down in again
back down in again
back down in again

I am a face hidden by a camera lens,
mismatched earrings and an empty locket.
I am a memory curator, boxes
of cards, ticket stubs, pressed flowers.
I am a back-of-the-hand to-do list
and a corduroy jacket.

You are a sunrise and a 12-mile run,
sweaty feet and 3-day stubble.
You are dry eyes, even at funerals,
and a soft spot for golden retrievers.
You are a rusty blue Chevy
that you’ll fix up one day.

We are hands lingering after saying Grace.
We are “I’ll get this, you get that,
and we’ll split them.”
We are Alanis Morissette in the rain,
and a view of the fading day
from the rail of Boylan Bridge.

Lost, yet losing another battle
Amongst many mannequins
But the agony doesn't settle
Coz the desire ignites more sins

We fight ourselves and give a way
For others to take over the place
Yet mind and heart beg to stay
To compete in the popularly race

Love is such a challenge, for
Mankind to keep it flourished
Most seen and saw many hearts tore
As flushed eyes stare astonished

Slitting wrist and overdosing mayhem
Serve as a culture to those grievers
Sadist rhythm and sour anthem
Twist their minds, forget retrievers

Like a new epidemic leashed out
And the entire planet, a test ground
Goons, gruff and celebrate about
At the new prototype that roams around

Pointing fingers at others in blame
Raising conflicts, to more lethal levels
To brainwash everyone, their only aim
And these are the real devils

Controlled by trotting wealthiers
We're shot with some ridiculous vaccine
Spilled lies, of life based on certain healthiers
Change the channels, in news it's all seen

Yet, believing the media is another slot
They only show the entertainment bit
The reality is edited and maybe reshot
And the channel becomes a hit

Dummies are we, to unknown users
Our daily lives residue normality
How great are these leading looters
Who shake hands to fulfill, formality!


©sim

Mention eugenics, you'll empty the room;
People assume you're the prophet of doom.
This time, before it's a total rout,
wait a second, hear me out.
Here is where, if you listen to me
in a few generations, humans could be.
Sad brown eyes, golden hair,
happy sleeping anywhere.
Great disposition.  Wonderfully nice.
Great white teeth, a breeze to de-lice.
We'd all love nature, swimming like beavers
once we've evolved into Golden Retrievers.

I walk along cobblestone
With childhood sterling bracelet
clanking on left wrist  
stacked with personalized pieces
sagging on linked chain

I drop charm by charm  
into cracks of amber granite

my last name
a diamond heart
a pink pony
a cross of roses
a ballerina slipper

a civilized timeline of marriage and kids and golden retrievers

my vowels
my lungs
my lips

I continue walking
wishing I could
Drop
my name at the end of your sentences
And all of the exclamation marks that usually

followed.

My silver bracelet emptied and open for

LGBTQ flags
DV advocacy
anti-trump
****** expression
poetry
the full moon
Zodiac signs
the *******.

Got called home like a ******* dog. Like one of the obedient retrievers Commodore uses to fetch her birds. Came when I was called.
Didn’t mean I had to like it.
Twenty-five-year-old man worth his salt packed up everything. Just to skipped home, his grandfather snapped his fingers?
What a good heir to are family fortune did.
I didn’t just do it for the money. I did it because Commodore had hammered the family. I was ******* four years-old-Preserve and protect the legacy. What Smiths did. Are family coffers with even more money than was there.
My dads was doing ******* trouble ****** job of living up to his Commodore’s rigorous standards, base on his reports.
Been getting it in California. That he spent more time with his mistress than his own family.
Last message made clear. According to him. It’s boring for him, just sit in the office and do what. He rather collect all the money. And spend time with his mistress. I was *******, explained why I was sitting in a deep hole-in -the -wall. Losing out money left and right. David has no, right to collect the money. Without asking his wife.
Handle whatever responsibility Commodore threw at me, I wasn’t ready to come back to Las Vegas. Long shot.
California was better than Las Vegas. Proving myself and my worth.
David might be at my house, but I’m not comfortable him being there. With his mistress. His broke again, he needed more money.
Over the years my family seen so much from David. His troubles taking care his kids.
Bad on Finance and can’t protect stuff of legends, and it wasn’t dying anytime soon.
Like David getting behind on taxes. He just enjoyed taking something from his mistress.

Day after the sale, his mistress came to his wife’s house. Demanding for money, Mrs. Rodriguez Ellis had to called the police to Escort David mistress out her property.
I didn’t ******* know the truth, I didn’t want to know. All that mattered was that I couldn’t go anywhere in this ******* town without people looking at me and talking behind my back. About my husband and son girlfriend.
I surely hate that. I wish I could move my company in New York or Hawaii.
Maybe I could open another business in New York.
I found a bottle of Patron in front. Rub me three times and make your wish. Took me all of three days to actually Decide either I rub the bottle or not.
Basically I was shack about another problem with my son girlfriend. That girl will never walk down with my son. Her family to Considerate up nose.
I couldn’t wait to escape my son .
The perfect hideaway, and tonight I wanted to drink in a peace. I tried to settle into the idea of accepting my fate. Hell with that. Give me tequila.

Thinking about tossing back the liquor in front of me when the door opened and a gust of powerful wind dragged everyone’s attention to ward the door.
**. *******
Her hair was as black of the night. Beautiful lips as red apple. Her sin was soft as buttermilk. And a big heart that anyone have. Not only beautiful outside, Genuine heart. Perfect for my son.

David. *******.
Wasn’t drunk, but the whole world seemed to slow down as her voice. Your mistress ****** to show your wife photo pose you and her ****. Something in her purse and looked up.

David are you ******* serious?
Her vivid brown eyes kicked him in the gut, sucker punch from the way she pursed her lips as she surveyed. Gonzalez personified the saying walk in like you own her. David you like it that young. Gonzalez shoulders back, **** out and chin pointed up.
A woman on a mission. To **** David that’s hot to her. There’s no more secrets between David and his wife. David still married, but choose to mess around with his co-workers.
In another hands, khaila Smith is as same like David. Thank god , her son is not married with that.

Right about the woman-on-a-mission part. Poor ******* David, his wife *******. For mother ******* 19 years of married. Servicing this country. Than turn around tell your wife. It made your **** shift in your jeans. Seriously you crazy and weird.
Some people like her style. Smile crossed my face for the first time since I got the call from Rodriguez E grandfather that it was time to trot along home.
Won’t be why.” Turned on my stool and held out a hand, driven by pure habit.
City boy. Don’t need to know your name to drink your tequila. She saved me from giving up my identity, made her attitude even sexier-and made me want to prove her point.

I’m a city boy?”
Her gaze dropped to my shoes. She even show her biker boots, hiking boots, or steel toes. No, one cares.
I was from California, but I wasn’t raised here. My parents hired private tutors for me until I turned twelve, than I was throw in boarding school

Nobody ever speaks of
Midas's dog, which by
all accounts came from
a rescue centre after he
abandoned it as a wee
was a lad when he met
a Genie outside a bottle
shop who granted him
his every wish.

it didn't take Midas long
to discover that even his
bread began to taste of
carats.

This is when he decided
to try and redeem his dog
and pleaded with the Genie
to have it retrieved, in exchange
for all his recently acquired riches.

Yes she said, on condition
that you "don't pat it".

Ps.

This is why we now have
Golden Retrievers.