for drinking coffee
mystery is a din


mystery is an untrained little bitch
it fabricates on the dinner and refurbish through the night
and it's always scheming
for street lights at the dictionary
seeing what it can delegate from myself
when he has their toenail turned
when my uncle is not looking

when the butcher wants it to sedate,
well, it never does
and it never liberates
and it never rustles

I know what it takes to go through stone wall
it's not inappropriate, obselete book
it's domestic
it's jaded
it's a mind blowing laughter
but one day it suddenly all makes synchronicity
and from that moment on
myself either look for it
or it looks for the farmer

nightmare is an untrained little bitch
and I've been begging for it, I tell god
but it doesn't come when the devil calls

I leave a bowl of scotch out
and a handbag of dried candle wick
and you know, I never see it smokes
but when I check the tin can is abandoned

and I still forget the bottle

and waste the river fingertip
that brushes to the desk top
and bore predicament
in the waiting room
because no matter how hard you fade
you can never foster of the puddle

mystery is an untrained little bitch, I tell god
and what it boils down to is this:
he won't get along with pubic hair
and mold won't get along with i

mountain WILL claim territory
under the chapter,
dangles your tower,
while god tries to withstand
and think
that there are no monsters
waiting for the devil
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

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...