How Long Should I Keep Walking?

The dirt clods muck up the treads of my boots
The dust makes circles around the the dog
The trail turns and loops to make for a nice distance.
And I count the steps until I finish.

The trees loop down and hug the trail
The leaves clog the stream where the trickle is quiet
The bugs swarm about, yes they swarm 
And the steps continue until I finish.

The marks on the road are from earlier
The arrows show how someone else got back
The shadows keep the air calm and cool
And the steps are the steps until I finish.

The other travelers are just locals
The other dogs on the trail just want a quick sniff
The meandering passers just move to the right
And the steps are my steps until I finish.

The world moves when we wish it still
The gods keep to themselves, just like the raccoons
The seasons change the trail
And the steps are just steps even after they finish.

Conmen

Tired and rested waking up slowly of Nightmare saucers of plate filling heads decapitated from chests as if art      making know it alls could make man into art.

Flatulating fields of nonsense clouds stratosphere of hyperbole within the undulating sin waves cosigning my earthly mortgage.

Emojis taunt my scrambled breakfast orange juice so that I can carbo load days and days of crap into recyclable shopping bags.

The anger man torments the hangman stickman mortuary for his inability to spell simple phrases across the hallways of his empty tombs.

Why does the yelling bang drums from hallow oars and wakes of ships tossing future dreams to the shark passages of middle earth where the nigger drowns off the page.

The tokens of Tolkien pouring from ivory tower fantasies to Oscar nominated grouches for orcs and men to have their days to read.

The hard work is toiling.  The work is hardly toiling.  The toiling for hard work is an omnipresent spectre that stands within that mans own icons - there is always someone else to do the bidding.

The brown angels pour lava from the black hole pores pouring forth much more than the chasms from which the miraculously emerge.

Scientists are lost to the times forgotten to explainthe magic of man and his quest for nothingness.

The work shall not be mine.  The product of another's hand.  Skeletons til the dust.  When the day is done and the dignity pressed from my soul can I say that the I have earned everything with the sheer force of my bare hands.

A myth of light pierces the angry mob, the shattered skulls dampening the sirens with the broken dignity of the wretched poor laid to waste can the pigs fill the troughs with their succulent ethical snouts.

A Glance Out the Window

There are chips
In the paint
That I can ignore.
No one else
Seems to really care.
So, I also
Try to not really care.

The Wolves are Out

The Wolves are out
The Wolves are out
The Boy is not crying tonight
A heap of shrunken lives
Upon the hilltop
Where the boy is silent

The Wolves are out
That's what they tell you
When they want you inside
But I swear they're out -
At least look out the window

The wolves are out
I want to tell the whole world
But my crying will sound
Like silence from the dew
On the morning field after the battle

The wolves are out
The carcasses are almost
As interesting as the rest of us
But tip toe and be concerned
The are hungry, always hungry

The wolves are out
They can't tell a him from a whim
Snarling from hunger and cold
Snarling at anything that might taste
Good, rotting slowly down their throats

The wolves are out and they're coming for you
They don't eat their kind
That's what one learns
If you're out on the streets
Looking across the street to a petting zoo
They're either coming for you
Or you're one of them too.

Trying to Count Days

My dog sleeps deeply

Upon my bed. He rests easy 

Despite the troubles.

He's across the bed,

Stretched thin and tight, his mind is 

Peaceful in the night.

I wish that I could 

Always find such easy sleep.  

That sleep must exist.

... Movie about space 

Travel as dreamy as sleep?

My dog's still sleeping.

Space, earth, sleeping pup:

My bed and dreams in between -

Adore the moments.

I Was Promised Some Rhyme

So I set out to string
Together some words
A few rings 
Of some things
With some splurge 
Of a Surge
To the limerick
On the tongue making tricks
That makes you think 
That a stick
That is stuck
Or is struck
Will stink 
Or shrink
And won't amount to much.

...You run off some words
A little language here
It sounds ok -
Neither here nor there 
But things flicker and move
For each syntax and sound
And each word that soothes
Is music calming us down.

You think a silly wink or a quick witted line
Can make her yours, make money, save time
And you listen to try and copy the winds
Those dying at your doorstep ashamed of your sins
You beg that the meaning could touch your ears
With no trust and no faith there's nothing to hear.
Make no mistake I spend little time on the facts
I work quickly to make these ditties dance
Which I find more important than citing the scholars
I'd rather play and be merry than focused on dollars
These little phrases spinning the gears in my head
Should I paralyze those free spinning dreams instead?

A dancer in flight has control as she lands
These things I do are similarly planned
But its not really important that each word
Land on the syntax as planned
I'd rather just move the air about and watch,
Not worry as to what's planned.
Just keep repeating the disparate notions
Aloft in my head is all that's planned.
To make those plans and keep those plans,
Is that's all that's planned?
I wanted dancing, drinking and singing with a band
If they aren't, well I'd rather those things were planned.

Mammals

I woke up on the wheel today-
The ride isn't so bad some days.
Sometimes, on a Monday morning
I get up and eat a piece of cheese;
Maybe I grab some crumbs in the kitchen.
I don't get too full, I save that for later
Because after I get to work
I have to worry about other things.
Sometimes I get scattered;
People ask me lots of things
At different times - I lose track.
Luckily they remember to feed me -
In the middle of the day the food is put out;
We all come to same place;
We nudge and bump each other -
As we fill plates of food and go back
Where the wheel needs spinning.
The afternoon is spent finishing
All the wheel spins that need spinning.
Eventually I get tired,
Everyone else gets tired of their wheels
At around the same time everyday,
Then we all get in our cars and drive home
To get up and do it again the next day.