My
fourteen heft-
y hound
friends were
far from be-
ing either done
with OR (for
that matter) in-
different to the
hidden fund (one hun-
dred fifty-nine)
units) of
smell-defined innu-
endo sur-
rounding them.
Some folks will say that he's just a hound,
But no finer dog could ever be found.
I have to admit that a hound's hard to train,
But that's just because he must first grow a brain.
He's so happy-go-lucky and such a real tease.
He's so full of love and desires just to please;
But he gets into trouble more often than not,
'Cause he's curious of nature and gets into a lot.
The things that he does shows an active mind.
He just has to mature, he just needs some time,
To show the intelligence inate in his breed.
He's tenacious and brave, this is his creed.
He can find any trail that he's set upon.
Just give him the scent and then he is gone.
He won't give up until he's caught his prey,
And you'll know where to find him by his noted bay.
You don't want to lose him, he's not something you lend.
He's your dog, he's your buddy, He's your best friend.
You can look high and low but his like can't be found.
There ain't no such animal as this dog "just-a-hound".
Halloween setting
How fitting
Greyhound bus like no one has ever seen
Through the back roads, Shortcuts forbidden paths into small towns and major cities
Darkness falls
Passengers don’t have a clue in what’s ahead
Their Greyhound Bus Driver dressed in all black and a touch of red as Dracula
Blood Thirst
Passenger’s outburst
Mysterious reactions throughout the bus
Within the darkness comes a heavy Thunderstorm
Suddenly a swift flash of lightning
Images appear of rising spirits focused in front of the bus on the road
Surprises unexpected, but drew attention causing a chill
Chiller tail without fail
Passenger’s scream and their heart pounded
Noise of heavy chains making a sound
Atmosphere interchange
Moans upon moans heard
The Hound bus has been attacked by all goons
The goons chant, “They want human flesh
Hunger pains agony
Years of wanting, but not getting
Closer, Closer the goons came
Ever so close being almost there
Pondering passenger’s feeling suddenly, surprisingly, and worried
The how, when and if
Trick a treat
Do you have candy to eat?
Halloween sweet in treat.
Gotta go to school it's the same old story
teach me a lesson would be good for me
learning all the rules five days of the week
don't fall behind don't think don't speak
gotta go to work it's the same sad story
get me a job that's sure to bore me
working for a wage five days of the week
don't step out of line don't think don't speak
gotta go to church it's the same sick story
wed me a wife who's bound to hound me
listen to her ***** each day of the week
don't fool around don't think don't speak
it's the way of the world the way of man
follow the herd don't say a word
all we can do is do all we can
so let's all dance to the same algorithm
everyone even you and me
dictated and played by the powers that be
me and you what have we got to lose
if we stay in line we'll be fine
and dance to the same algorithm and blues
There come those moments when men cease to be men
And turn into dogs.
Dogs that bite and dogs that whine;
Dogs that lay
Panting
On top of you
And infect you with their spilling saliva
Dulled eyes full of starving thoughts of violence.
They’re all so charming until you see the rabies in their mouths
And their lips,
Docked by their hunger
Grinning like you can’t see the intentions in their bared gums
Or the savagery in their rolling tongue.
“You know what they say about dogs,” your mother’s voice echoes
“They’ll tell you that they love you,
But they’ll eat you when you’re dead.”
Destination Bound
Road miles
Observing scenery while
Onward and forward
Cross Country
State to State
City to City
Town to Town
Up the mighty hills
Across iconic bridges over rivers
People waves through America
Rest Stops along the way
Time limit
Journey through the night
Darkness in plain sight
Driver headlight flashes to other buses
View of the Moon and stars
Travelling far
Hound Bus beats traveling by car
Journey continuation
Travel opportunity appreciation
Seeing America’s creation
Routes into another
Back roads into super highways
The Hound Bus being anybody’s getaway
Hound bus explore
Travel for sure
Arriving here and departing there
Hound bus travel instance
Travel unstoppable.
(Moonshadow in the North Cascades, 1981)
Oh Sweet Hound
The world turns
Full of bright hopes
And dark fears
Love lost and found
And as it spins
Ever faster
There is just one
Source of joy
That never fades
And it wears your face
Oh sweet hound.
(3/27/24)
It was a winters night when his wagon came to a stop
He was so bitterly cold, that he warmed up with hops.
He would have played his clarinet, but no one was around.
I would love to hear you! Said a mangy looking grizzly hound.
So the old man took out his instrument and played his heart away.
He and the hound became forever friends that day.
He took him to the next town, and the rest of them after that.
They both agreed on one thing- they would never get a cat.
I was having one of “those” mornings
being all boo-hoo
and feeling sorry for myself
just counting the ways
that things were so uncool
when my ole hound-dog came up
and nuzzled my thigh
I reached down and rubbed his ears
and got to thinking
do hound-dogs ever get the boo-hoos
and I realized
yeah, they probably do
with that revealing flash of insight
I got down on my knees
and gave my ole hound-dog a hug so tight
that it hitched my breathing
he got to wagging and licking
tossing his head and smiling
and I got to making all that
talking-to-my-ole-hound-dog-baby-talk
while we were having ourselves
a good ole time together
I got to thinking again
when you get the boo-hoos
and start feeling sorry for yourself
what you must try and do
is give comfort to someone else
and if the closest someone else
is your very own wag-licking ole hound-dog
then you just get down on your knees
and let that comfort flow
while I was doing just that
and we were nose-to-nose
we looked into each other’s eyes
and I had another revealing flash of insight
I wasn’t giving comfort to my ole hound-dog
he was giving comfort to me.
Is it sorrow in canine disguise?
Is it pity empathic and wise?
Or is it not either
Nor sympathy neither
But hunger we see in its eyes?
The Afghan’s a dog groomer’s joy
The definitive Lord Fauntleroy
But with all that coiffure
One is never quite sure
If the “she” is a girl or a boy
ig goofy basset hound, Brethren B. Bibble Butt was fun.
He liked living with Charmaine, she was as bright as the sun.
She kept her personality under wraps, preferred to read and sit.
Brethren B. Bibble Butt liked her lively funny enthusiastic whit.
We do not need any other two-legged, he told her in his way.
She liked the way he rubbed her chair, he was a dog to stay.
She had a boyfriend long ago, but he was not as entertaining as BBBB.
You are my guy, she told Brethren, you are more than enough for me.
The hurriedly hushed
hound who
passionately persists
to pant and pound
out his hazy half hummed howl
holding its pale painted
point into view .
Wishing that each
and every word
would be like
a blissful
bird of buoyant blue.
Gracefully growing
up firm fresh
and free.
Fully flying off
into someone
else’s ears
to tenderly
tell his heart
touched tales
trembling within
life’s trampled
trails of tears .
Forever frozen within
The flashing fragility of fear.
He donned a stalker hat
and went hot on the prowl.
thick fog in contrast
The Demon Hound howled.
His wit is too vast
There was no way out.
Those tracks on the mire
Meant Stapleton had drowned.
The dog was incensed, he sounded the alarm in the form of a bark.
But the master was away, and the kitty cats were on a lark.
They began typing away, changing their master’s story for the best.
He would soon come home and be thrilled; finally able to rest.
The dog did not know how talented were the kitty cats in the house.
Only recognizing their ability to be fast and catch every single mouse.
He was going crazy, watching them type away at the manuscript.
Picturing the worst, this hound was having a startling doggy fit!
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