koo-koo
bird is a cactus
bird is an untrained little bitch
it enjoy on the cat and type through the night
and it's always sleeping
for computers at the dog
seeing what it can click from teacher
when door man has their head turned
when driver is not looking
when student wants it to crashed,
well, it never does
and it never fly
and it never jump
I know what it takes to go through tree
it's not huge, soft toilet
it's green
it's purple
it's a ugly nose
but one day it suddenly all makes frog
and from that moment on
policeman either look for it
or it looks for grandma
gun is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell grandpa
but it doesn't come when boy calls
I leave a bowl of egg yoke out
and a garbage can of dried paradise
and you know, I never see it move
but when I check the pot is stinky
and I still fly the garbage can
and swom the table ear
that swim to the hole
and vibrate brindge
in the park
because no matter how hard you broke
you can never change of the earing
bird is an untrained little bitch, I tell woman
and what it boils down to is this:
grandpa won't get along with street
and hair won't get along with gentleman
cane WILL claim territory
under the grandma,
bit your hat,
while grandma tries to slips
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for grandpa
to shut their eyes
---
Orginal poem:
death is a dog
originally written 7/8/98
Death is an untrained little bitch
it pees on the carpet and barks through the night
and it's always begging
for scraps at the table
seeing what it can take from you
when you've got your back turned
when you're not looking
when you want it to heal,
well, it never does
and it never rolls over
and it never plays dead
I know what it takes to die
it's not an emotional, rash decision
it's cold
it's calculated
it's a numbing void
but one day it suddenly all makes sense
and from that moment on
you either look for it
or it looks for you
Death is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell you
but it doesn't come when you call
I leave a bowl of water out
and a bowl of dried dog food
and you know, I never see it eating
but when I check the bowl is empty
and I still refill the bowl
and vacuum the dog hair
that sticks to the couch
and spray air freshener
in the living room
because no matter how hard you try
you can never get rid of the smell
Death is an untrained little bitch, I tell you
and what it boils down to is this:
you won't get along with her
and she won't get along with you
she'll claim her territory
under the bed,
eating your slipper,
while you try to sleep
and remind yourself
that there are no monsters
waiting for you
to shut your eyes
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