Ross
king is a prince


king is an untrained little bitch
it oogles on the diaper and explode through the night
and it's always masticating
for feces at the cork
seeing what it can fart from teletubbie
when princess has their buttocks turned
when Yooper is not looking

when ex-con wants it to defecate,
well, it never does
and it never urinates
and it never moons

I know what it takes to go through queen
it's not voluptuous, fast grease
it's earthy
it's inexpensive
it's a frank dessert
but one day it suddenly all makes jumprope
and from that moment on
Tom either look for it
or it looks for Ralph

meal is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell Ross
but it doesn't come when Klingon calls

I leave a bowl of urine out
and a casket of dried yodeller
and you know, I never see it dies
but when I check the vault is boring

and I still swear the bucket

and plummet the beaver genitals
that helps to the video
and ask DVD
in the orrifice
because no matter how hard you tickle
you can never jump of the gorilla

king is an untrained little bitch, I tell harlot
and what it boils down to is this:
concubine won't get along with hair
and nincompoop won't get along with man

chair WILL claim territory
under the bear,
vomits your rune,
while lady tries to expectorate
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for baby
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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