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The Serb Dog by Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
There was a bunch of soldiers standing around watching
a house burn and somebody said "Was that somebody screaming,
did you hear somebody scream?"
"Shut up idiot," said the lieutenant. "You don't want
the Serbs to have anything when they get here do you?" He
was from Dodge City and some of the other guys called him
Cowboy. Most of them had joined the unit in Naples and this
was their first assignment in what used to be Yugoslavia.
Now it was Hell.
They could hear faint gunshots coming from over the
hill and everyone knew time was running out. Around the
corner a bunch of people was being herded out of town but
not everyone wanted to leave. They could hear some of the
older peoples voices pleading not to be put on a bus, but
nobody knew what else to do. The children only cried and
some of the soldiers tried not to think about the children
crying. Finally they heard the bus door slam shut and the
sound of the engine as it roared into movement then
gradually the sound disappeared behind the distant gunfire.
"I heard they signed today," said one of the soldiers.
"Did you hear,
lieutenant, about them signing a ceasefire?"
"Let them sign," replied the lieutenant "I will sign,
too. Torch that house over there. Who cares about another
"Why didn't you join the Croats, Cowboy? What ever made
a nicefellow like you sign on with us cut throats?" Everybody
snickered but Cowboy got over being irritated by their
remarks the first week.
"They didn't offer enough money," he snapped.
Suddenly a dog came running down the road and one of the
soldiers said "Get that damned dog!" Everybody started
shooting at the same time and the dog started running and
jumping and yapping all at the same time then disappeared
behind a house.
"That's one lucky dog!" somebody said.
A captain came running up and said "Why were you guys
shooting at that dog?"
One of the soldeirs said "It was a Serb dog." Somebody
else said "It was in heat!"
"Well don't shoot no more dogs," said the captain.
Then the dog stuck its head out and a shot came from across
the road, shattering the stone building right next to the
dogs head. The dog let out a yelp and started running down
the road, away from the soldiers.
"Look at that dog run!" shouted the captain. "Don't
anybody shoot! I like that dog! Run Dog! Run Dog! Don't
let them shoot you!"
Just then a volley of gunfire echoed from behind
the buldings and bullets could be seen hitting the ground
all around the running dog, then some bullets struck the
dog and it fell over without a sound. Some other soldiers
came around from behind the buildings across the street
from where the dog had been and they were laughing.
"That was my dog!" yelled the captain to the other
"That was your dog?" asked one of the men.
"Yes, I said so!" repled the captain. "Didn't I just
tell you it was my dog?"
"You just killed our dog!" snapped the lieutenant.
"We thought it was a Serb dog," the soldier said. "How
could we tell it was your dog?"
"Well, you be careful about shooting dogs from now
on!" snapped the lieutenant. "Good dogs are hard to find
"That dog was rabid!" laughed one of the soldiers
who shot the dog.
"That dog was in heat!" laughed a soldier in the
"That dog is dead!" said another guy. Everybody
"Get back to torching those houses," said the
Suddenly they heard the dog yelping and when they
looked down the road they saw it running again. Everybody
started screaming and shooting at once and the dog
disappeared into a bunch of bushes just as some bullets hit
the dirt all around it.
"That's the luckiest damned dog I ever saw!" said
"Guess it wasn't a Serb dog after all," laughed
"Guess not," said a soldier. "No Serb dog could be
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
When we think of traveling we most often think of going from one location to another. That’s good but I sometimes like to return in reverie to times in my past. Places where I spent my childhood are precious to me.
We seem to race through childhood never slowing down to enjoy the moments we may seek to recover in years to come. I remember the place of my early years. Cameron, Texas was the only world I knew until I was eight years old. Names and landmarks still cross my mind in moments of remembrance.
I still remember the path that led me home hundreds of times from Ada Henderson Elementary School. It passed through a park about two city blocks in size. In this park were the normal things such as those galvanized metal slides polished by literally thousands of khaki or denim clad rear ends. Two slides stood side by side. One was a simple one-hump slide. The other was over twice as high using two humps on the journey to the ground from what seemed to be such a lofty height. The kid sized slide was seldom used after one had experienced the thrill of the ‘big’ slide. There were seesaws that weathered years of teeter tottering by excited boys and girls. There were simple gymnastic pipes that were just the right height to sit on and do back flips, nearly slamming your head into the ground beneath. All these things were so much fun to a kid and his friends as they made their way home from another day at school.
But one fun piece of equipment always furnished the thrills that last a lifetime and are remembered in the fondest reverie. About halfway through the park was a merry-go-round made of the strongest and seemingly indestructible pipe. It, too, was polished by years of holding on by squealing children, lest they be thrown off by the magic of centrifugal force. It was about 12 feet in diameter and the center pipe was about 8 inches in diameter and must have been anchored somewhere in China since all the many years of use it yielded not a fraction. There were some 8 or 10 pipes on the outer portion of the merry-go-round that allowed you to grab and step onto the running board and hold on for dear life. Kids would grab these posts as they came around and spin them as hard as possible. The speed they built up was surprisingly fast and it took some agility to master the art of stepping on and grabbing the handle. I have no recollection of grievous mishaps, just an occasional scrape or bruise. This contraption has served at least 4 generations of school kids and has not changed the last time I saw it some 20 years ago.
Farther down the path home was a giant gazebo with a stage and seats around the outside. It was equipped with public restrooms beneath the gazebo. It has been there for many years and sometimes I can close my eyes and see that gazebo and hear the faint strains of Sousa marches from the brass bands that played summer concerts there. I remember many happy times there on family picnics and occasional reunions.
God watched over the kids and me whose paths home took them through the park. Just past the gazebo was a huge drainpipe, which during heavy rains drained water from the park into a ravine running through the park. It was some 50 to 60 feet in length and about 6 feet in diameter. It was always on a dare that we would walk through that dark, dank and scary tunnel. We were sure there was all manner of creepy crawly creatures lurking in the shadows waiting for unsuspecting kids to slowly make their way through this scary conduit. I remember going through it once and that was enough. I’d rather walk through the cemetery alone …. But that’s another story.
My phone is always off. I then check and return my messages inevitably.
These are actually precautions I must take for my own personal safety.
If I happened to be crossing a busy intersection and my phone rang suddenly,
it would trigger a panic attack whereupon I'd pass out on that street immediately.
The same holds true for me at home whenever uninvited guests drop by unexpectedly.
I'll be relaxing on my couch, petting my cat while watching some TV
when all of a sudden my door bell rings and completely paralyzes me.
I try to call out but it's difficult to speak when you're desperately trying to breath,
and the more that door bell continues ringing, the more I continue weakening
at losing all control of the panic attack now attacking me,
but I always beat these home panic attacks successfully,
However, it is never at all very pretty.
Take for example this panic attack episode that happened to me
when a Jehovah's Wittiness dropped by on me unexpectedly;
More times than none, when my door bell rings
bad news or tragedy is what it brings.
If knocking at my door should follow that
then I'm ten fold more prone to a panic attack.
If the knocking at my door should continue to persist
I'll curl into the fetal position as tight as a clenched fist.
My panic attacks are my ultimate test
of preventing my heart from pounding right through my chest.
My only strength is the knowledge of knowing that the panic attack will pass,
but as long as the knocking continues the panic attack will also continue to last.
More times than none the uninvited give up and go away,
but there have been some who continue to stay.
They'll just keep on knocking refusing to go away.
My panic turns to anger. Now the unannounced visitor must pay.
I open my door and what do I see?
A devout Jehovah's Wittiness smiling back at me.
"Good morning Sir. Have you welcomed Jesus Christ into your life?"
I try to remain calm. I try to be polite.
"I don't have time right now but I'd be happy to read
any literature you'd care to leave with me."
"You don't have time for God?" is what she next said to me,
and that's when I lost it ballistically.
"I didn't say that you ignorant snob
I don't have time for YOU! I Always Have Time For GOD!
but what I don't have time for is an inconsiderate slob
but I promise, right after I slam my door in your face
I'll fall down to my knees and pray to the Almighty Grace.
Dear GOD Please Don't Ever Again Send This Moron Over To My Place!!!"
and then I slammed my door hard and as loud as can be,
and as I had promised my visitor, I fell down to my knees,
but I most definitely wasn't on my knees to pray.
I was exhausted and 100 times more depressed than I'd felt on any day.
It's a two edge sword that I constantly carry around.
I beat my panic attack by exploiting my anger
on an innocent, well meaning, Child of God drone.
I guess the only way I can conquer my panic attacks truly and naturally
is to allow the darkness in me to break free occasionally.
It's not the greatest of methods but it's the only alternative for me
but it can be hurtful to others and that depresses the hell out of me.
I have confidence that my panic attacks will one day lessen,
but until then I shall remain a No People person.
Given all of the above I do occasionally
self medicate with Xanox when dealing with the above gets too overwhelming for me,
but that's only on a once in a blue moon desperate need
from dealing with my panic attacks naturally.
Most times just knowing that bottle of Xanax is on my shelf is comfort enough for me.
She spins on her futon, dreaming
arms spread, fingers fishfishfishing for me
but I’m not there
those legs are at 5 and 7 tw tw twitching
She’s been asleep since 8
But will awake at 11
then again at
punctually, soon she’ll be
raise your hand,
trace the letter, do it better
Miss, recess, bell,
Sweetheart, don’t slam the door
will come up suddenly
leave me missing
sleep overs, yes, sure
no no why, please, just a few more,
make believe, four leaf clovers...
... then at
after an argument
about friends, stupid rules
she’ll yell, I hate you
that I’m too calculating
I am the wanted
and so I hold her close
sooth a brow
kiss her frown, sweetly we spoon
then wisely I'll dismiss the knowing moon
*I really don't know what to call this... is there a form called weird experimental? LOL. I am not sure if this communicates what I see/feel... all comments welcome! FIRE IN THE HOLE! LOL!
h when i was truth i fell
drew boy i grew up
still def still be a cre4ators tool
wipers for the pain tears drop
fear not, fret no baby worrys from the devil. whispers on my ear xrtays , be very afraid, cantrall camaflauge like a sand dollar, honor boy we descretion , a virtue is all im left now, we the still launching balls in the park, remarks, its remarkableaint it?deep all dark as the cell lights from weldsgenuine from the top to the bottom, weathered by the struggle tried and true i confess tyhe devil still got a bounty on my head here, Weapons come bring all even that
determination reaffirmed confirmation
dragged across the face of
the devil, and i will face him,
killer on a cutthroat, lost my chrome and prorellis,
tomahawk mechetes,common cause i blare on, bread and butter, married to love of, giving mary credit, everytime i ever said it, deeper than the message, freedom never said more, boy act like he badder, go for me now im bipolar facing all weapons like its the deepest ****ing episode, connection in the west, no nothing coming easy, friends spell finders,wilder than saying it aint over, i aint acting like im clean, babys body beating on my head whelps and melodies, def to a felony, boy consider carefully im more than just distant memories, more than u still feell, the crown on your head of a king i slam down, been down in this sound like seashells has been around, like it hurts well pain is my profession, still trying trying to perfect it, pros dont know whats pros and cons know, among those pics as fast a lens close, so i been known tell u motha****as i been known, still feeling likke i got a price on me, yea devils got a bounty on my head, ask my nephew, ask me and stars shine like scars be me traveling far to minds, reaching for more life treating this like im beast tearing out this town by its eyeballs, white squalls black powder , blast that ass like Im massive passions in acid baths,listen strictly speaking to the Masters, G-force and white noise creator of the devil salngs pain choice words Streets still speak ina deep voice, do u feel remorse, hear the men i lead hear me boy slient in a count down anticipation anger too got u making mistakes now, now now no i aint even dressed in your wardrobe, take the tie off, nical all nighters, alcohol graig them twist their ****ing minds up, listen if u got better hand, well stealth meet finesse's nails, i said i will, sett a trap and the net never catches me it never will, dealing with a hardhead, as i rain hell down soft my middle finger the taste of victory , that u still long for, flash that mercy and emergencys well dont freak out, i speak out
and put a X on a narc's head, boy im part metal, its what i teethed on, Like Im thuggish for accidents that the dicate the laws broken by a skunk, feel my blanco vendetta,as it shrinks your stature, just suppose I stole your power, well ***** u can have it back,
As the man on the roof, took two steps towards the edge, he was unexpectedly stopped by the sound of a bright and familiar voice, down below.
"I thought you were at work dad, watcha doing up there?", asked Daisy with a serious look on her face. He was hoping she wouldn't have to witness this, and was desperately thinking of ways around it, to explain his actions.
"I came home early, honey and well-- things will be a little bit different from now on, sweet pea... please, just go back inside"
She hugged herself tight as the autumn wind attacked her bare arms. It was freezing out here. And although she longed for her cocoa and wool blanket inside, daddy just wasn't making any sense.
"I'm scared... you always said that the roof was dangerous and--"
Her slightly panicked plea was cutoff by yet another familiar voice, though with an unusually angry tone to it, like the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard... but not quite.
"Charles! What on earth are you doing up there?", roared from what only could be Daisy's mother. The man on the ledge, sighed. Two problems arising in the span of a few minutes. There's just no way around this, if I'm gonna do this at all I gotta do it now! He thought to himself.
He took a couple steps back, inhaled a quick breath, and lifted his leg as if it sprint. While gritting his teeth and slamming his eyes closed he leaped off the edge into the blustery cold day. And in mid-air he hugged his legs tightly with his arms, creating an impressive cannonball shape.
A great whoosh sound happened, as the girls immediately raised their arms in defense of the coming splash.
"You just ruined your best suit!", said the woman, as the man lifted his head up from the icy chlorinated water, with a mad grin on his face.
"Well it looks like I won't be needing it anymore."
"You mean, you-- Oh Charles, what are we gonna-- Oh Charles," she incoherently blabbered on.
"It's alright dear, something will come up. There's a whole world of possibilities now," he gestured with his arms at the general area of their front lawn. "I'll do something else, something better even. A detective, an archaeologist, an astronaut--"
"Or maybe an Olympic diver!", shouted Daisy contentedly.
"Anything's possible," he chuckled. And on that note, they left their front lawn, while half a dozen anthills fended against the unexpected flooding. And as they walked through the front door of the house, they were uncertain to keep, they all held hands, and spent the rest of the afternoon playing board games.
Late at night when everyone else was asleep, he walked in his pyjamas and gazed through the window. The pool was mirror-flat, filled with silver moonlight, and autumn leaves were casually floating on its surface.
A good day, Charles thought. Today was a good day.
"Are you alone? A raspy Renfield exclaimed,
The phone static like frenzied bugs contained.
I hang up the phone in a disgusted huff,
This guy so creepy, I've had enough.
Three AM the phone again starts to ring,
Not quite awake, almost dropping the thing.
"Are you alone?" I heard with a raspy breath,
My patience gone, I cursed for his imminent death.
"Listen you pervert leave me alone."
my fingers shook as I clinched the phone.
A malevolence laugh my only reward,
A chill down my spine, I had struck a cord.
"You know, little darlin' I'm coming for you,
I'm going to f**k you up bad and relish begging you'll do.
I left you a present outside your door,
I hope you like it my sweet little whore."
I slam the phone down with violent force,
Hoping I took out his eardrum in the course.
My knees shook as I went to the door,
I wasn't expecting the bloody gore.
A bow of royal blue around it's neck
Not quite believing I had to double check.
A crusty headless kitten was placed in an ornate box,
My eyes dart up and down gloomy abandon street blocks.
Thunder and lightning a perfect horror scene,
A nightmare from a Freddy krueger's dream.
Wet footsteps flickered in the flashing porch entrance,
Slamming and bolting the door, survival was adrenaline intense.
I nearly peed my pants when the phone again rings,
"Are you alone", a childish voice off-key sings.
"Listen you sick creep, I'm calling the cops,
I'll have you arrested unless this stops."
"Awe you wound me, my sweet little whore,
You should answer your front door."
As he said that I heard an eerie knock,
I almost passed out from the shock.
According to things I've read,
If I didn't act now I'd surly be dead.
I pick up the phone to make that 911 call,
I couldn't get reception, no dial tone at all.
In frustration threw the phone across the room,
It exploded in pieces like a sonic boom.
Another slow knock jolted me to action,
I had to find some way for a distraction.
Over-cast rain, curtained the flashing hills,
Wrapped in a blanket to ward off chills.
"Here little kitty, kitty let me in," an eerie call, with a knock,
"Not by hairs on my chinny chin chin." Thank God for a heavy lock.
Glancing at the portable phone in pieces, poor thing,
But incredibly I heard it begin a distorted ring.
In the front window a silhouette flashed with a knife,
I opened my parched lips screaming for dear life.
Suddenly in my head a gentle whisper said,
Escape through the back door or you're already dead.
I tripped over the blanket, as I tossed it to the floor,
"Come out, come out my little sex kitten whore."
****! Why didn't I think of the other door sooner,
By now I'm thinking things couldn't get loonier.
Running like a bat out of hell, I flung open the back door,
"HELLO! Johnny's hooome. it's to late to run anymore."
I JUST CAN’T HELP IT, YA KNOW?
Elderly Lady: Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!
First Alert: Duly noted, will there be anything else?
Elderly Lady: Are you going to call an ambulance?
First Alert: Ambulance? Heck no! Call one yourself
Elderly Lady: But I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!
First Alert: (Sigh) Can’t you just kind of roll around or something?
Elderly Lady: What the…What did you say?
First Alert: Lord! Deaf as a doornail too
Elderly Lady: Please! Can you at least give me some advice?
First Alert: Now she thinks we’re Dear Abbey….
NOT AS ‘PROGRESSIVE’ AS ONE MIGHT THINK
Customer: How’s it flowin’ Flo?
Flo: Just rollin’ with the flow ya’ know?
Customer: I love the way your words flow, Flo…You put them together so well
Flo: What’s THAT supposed to mean? Are you saying I’m well put together?
Customer: No Flo, I-I meant…Y-you’re a real flower, Flo
Flo: Ain’t NOBODY messin’ with MY flower
Flo: And I SURE ain’t no flower child either
Flo: Stop interrupting me! You wanna’ buy some insurance or what?
THE MAJORITY RULES
Nine out of ten doctors recommend taking Tylenol:
(The tenth doctor lost his license for recommending street-drugs)
Nine out of ten doctors recommend smoking Camel cigarettes:
(The tenth doctor unfortunately couldn’t recommend a doggone thing because he died of lung cancer)
Four out of five dentists recommend chewing sugarless gum for those patients who chew gum:
(For those patients who do not chew gum the fifth dentist recommended chewing tobacco and got his ass chewed out by the national association of dentists hooked on tobacco laughing gas and pain pills and they took his license away too they said here’s something for you to chew on sucker the fifth dentist said chew on this you mother you know what at least I’m just hooked on tobacco y’all are hooked on laughing gas and pain pills too they said don’t tell on us the fifth dentist said I won’t tell only if you give my license back but I’m still gonna tell your mommies on you and they’ll chew all your sorry asses out for sure they said ok whew that was close the fifth dentist said I’m in a bad mood now give me some of that laughing gas they did and he started giggling then the rest of them took some too and they all started giggling and partying somebody called the cops and they were thrown in jail at the trial the prosecutor drilled them mercilessly they gave up and pled no dentist but got off on a technicality when they bribed the judge and the prosecutor with some laughing gas they started giggling and said aw you guys are okay then the judge accidentally pled guilty and sentenced both himself and the prosecutor who are now both currently serving two count em two consecutive life sentences for god knows what…)
She’s out there chasing a cricket
Through bush, through shrub & through thicket
Together they hop
But when she gets it, she just wants to lick it!
A cat whose vet took his eye
Just cannot quite understand why
His eye’s been enucleated,
3-D vision reduciated,
So now, he keeps an eye out for an eye
Ya gotta keep limericks loose
Think green eggs, or perhaps Dr. Seuss
They’re structured, it’s true,
But they’re also a zoo
Whose tenants are all on the loose!
I frolic in fountains of words
Overflowing with serious absurds
Each poem I write
Wakes up and takes flight
Joining angels and faeries and birds
You ask that we write a good limerick
How to do so, I haven’t a glimmerick
So I struggle and frown
Teaching poems to clown
So a smile on your lips will be shimmerick
A cat with a mouth full of mouse
Brought her feast right into my house
She played with her food
Who was not in the mood
To be a banquet of mouse in the house
The nightmares that shadow my sleep
Stampede the proverbial sheep
Right out of my mind
When I try to unwind
I find my appointment with sleep hard to keep
In her search for original truth
She met people unsavory and couth
She knitted and purled
But only unfurled
Yarns told by new age and old youth
Cat, suddenly pink,
Drinks her water from out of the sink
She looks so absurd
Since she’s been de-furred
I really don’t know what to think!
If one and one is two and two is four,
And there’s only two ways to go through a door,
Then, is earth up or down?
And, where is down town?
These are questions we need to explore!
A was that is an is
Tried to mind my biz
But I sent it packing,
Its presence was lacking
And I don’t have time for such shiz!
A couple who lived in Los Lunas
Loved the wide desert sky’s crystal blueness
They’d stare at the air,
Over here, over there
And rejoice at the feeling of newness
A cat with a very fat gut
Found it easier to walk on his butt
He’d drag it around
Across carpet and ground
And use it to slam the doors shut
Said the Missus to her dear Mr. Otter,
“There’s something I think that you oughta
Do before we get old
To protect us from cold –
You oughta make the hot water hotter!”
The ghosts who live up in my attic
Make noises that sound much like static
I’ve tried to send them away,
But they’re here to stay,
Those staticky ghosts in my attic
The summer sun was high. The heat was oppressive.
The whalebone corset dug into the body's tender parts.
Peering from the shop, my hand touching the pane
of dearly brought glass, I feel the vibration of the incoming riders.
The weak blue sky pales, and clouds over with the dust.
Children playing at hoop, let it drop with an unheard clatter.
Inside Fort Laramie’s provisioner, Mrs. Dreary’s dropped plate clatters.
Outside the general store, a thunder of hoofs race pell-mell through heat oppressive.
“Indians,” the children scream, running through the miasma of dust.
Folks in wagons and on horseback flee for other parts.
“Sioux,” I nod. Gunshots ring through the air savaging the riders.
The shopkeeper’s wife runs up the back stairs. Her baby screams in pain.
Arrow flights buzz by shattering shop window panes.
The indians leap from horse back to tile roof raising a clatter.
Mr. Dreary reaches for his Sharp shooter and aims at the riders.
A cat’s eye marble falls from the toy display, a mundane oppression.
Dreary slams shut the door. The shards of glass scatter, bullet parted.
“Mame, git away from that window now! Gener’l Connor’ll kill me if y’ur dusted.”
My eyes, now black and hollow as a barn owls, tear, full of dust.
“Damn heathens” Mr. Dreary cusses. Bullets clip through the broken pane.
Pulling me behind, opening the useless glass door. “Thop” an arrow parts
his scalp. He falls backward, landing beside me, spurs clattering.
The wee baby screams again and I turn to see Mrs. Dreary's oppressive
grip on the child. “He’s dead.” She says grabbing the Sharp. She kills a rider.
The arriving soldiers chase the mongrel band of heathen riders.
Mrs. Dreary, babe in one arm, Sharp in the other, kicks the fallen marble in the dust.
She walks through the door, out of one carnage into another type of oppression,
the soldiers are executing the Sioux braves. Children watch in pain.
Across the street a lone warrior perches. A roof tile clatters
to the dirt. His arrow flies and a soul is parted.
Falling with blind numbness, forward, down, parting
the water in the horse trough left for the incoming riders.
My brass buttons and flint arrowhead scrape the tub clattering,
no one in the street notices my departing in the days dust.
My open mouth fills with the rancid, taste of pain.
“How improper,” was my last lucid thought, oppressive.
The clatter of hoofs rocks my parting
The oppression of man against man leaves with the riders.
Only dust and the pain of the living remains.
Poet: Debbie Guzzi