BOOK THE FIRST
Stay. Beg. Roll over. Fetch. Sic him.
A DOG’S TALE
At a new year by the moon
In the annals of the snake
The Dark came to an ebon isle
In the great salt sea lake.
Enter Wild Boy of Borneo,
Alpha male on the make
The Dog Wrestling Champion
For sure; this year of
A bloody scourge to fascists
Not at all that easy to take
A fiery sideshow for others
Raised to be burnt at the stake.
The Mild Boy of Borneo
Was first born an old man
Living backwards till finally
He got to where his life began
An unsung well hung anti hero
He’s still his own biggest fan
A boy not a predestined top dog
Doing best always, what he can
Shiftless pins on Destiny’s map
Mark his true self’s roiling foment
While he wrestles The Chaos
Exorcising his soul’s
Mad Boy out of Wild Borneo
Goes down on all fours to attack
Wrangling his way always up
Pinning The Dark Dog
on its back.
Bells sound fifteen rounds
Confounding the neighbors
Bloody sweaty tears stain stadia
With their herculean labors.
Fighting White Dog of Borneo
Up on two legs teeth bared
A victor bays at the moon,
Switch on Borneo Idol this Friday
Presented by popular request
While all knowing Spam Hounds
Cheer on what they can sell best.
Supporting this their chosen one
A boy who was once an old man
Taking on The Dark’s demon host
Vanquishing them as only he can.
Lawn mowing urbanized maggots
Think they’ve lived; stood its test
Choose to stay home this night
With chips and dips; and to rest.
He chooses night’s bats and insects
As a jolly companionable crowd
With whom his moist lone thoughts
Are allowed to be uttered aloud.
To dream deeply of great contests
While mute hedge trimming hermits
Carve monkish cells out of life
Venturing out when weather permits.
High bells toll the beating heart
Hand bells tell the endless rounds
Sucking breath through gums
and broken teeth
Growling curses the
He’ll be torn apart
Shredded like slow cooked meat
Once beaten; to be eaten
By rats from off the street
So it’s hard practice ‘tween fights
Fighting shadows his way to spar
With time out to crash and learn
Why does a dog chase a car?
But as dark forest and flaking rust
Or concrete cannot stop this man
Nor slash wired stone wall
Or Dark Dog may deter
BOOK THE SECOND
Moon about Town.
WHITE DOG TRUE DOG
The cockerels are quiet
Lost in life’s darkened suburbs
A pack chase madly my Moon
But she’s here near my heart
Held close in hope’s
softly soft cocoon.
A furtive white doe
Grazes love’s heaven lit field’s
Upon a diamond strewn scape
Falling light wakening shadows
Neath night’s dart pierced cape.
My she dog’s a true dog
A fleet bitch whose frightened foot
Treads ground that would swallow
Her bright heart taking flight
Up and out; if love can I will follow.
From a heart’s view above
Love’s Armageddon outspreads
A gory banquet before our gaze
Passion’s fires annihilating all
Forbidden nights consume our days.
He utters sounds of love
Painful ambition not easily thwarted
Driven forward onto passion’s spike
To drown in her body’s well
Breaching at last her trembly dyke.
She waits his demands
Embracing pain while true to herself
Still and closed to all else about her
Compliant with his urging needs
Assuring he will never be without her.
BOOK THE THIRD
A Proper Myth.
A rabbit abroad on Eden’s greendesert
The moon shines dazzlinglight on night
Anxiety writes hername in blue flowers
Small teeth stay sharpwell out of sight
Anywhere she soars to the edge of life
Sweet imprints of her clearsoul’s mark
The sound of a tiny fearbreath freezing
Chills the twilightwarm air of The Dark
Forces from beyondlife leech living out
Obliterating her hope for heaven’s ire
Quick engulfed by The Dark upreaching
For a refugebeyond chaos and hell fire
Downstretching finding hiddenground
A selfbedrock of unquestioning Ibelief
Her flamepassion incinerating love
Awakening hate in the shiver of a leaf
Mutewitness night spins from its web
The story of a ravishment of innocence
Is sisterwoman’s dire hearthtale of grief
The prologue to a mother’s vengeance?
A childvictim of The Dark beyond night
Summer with winterdread in her heart
Now her tapestrytale in its ebonshades
Has each of its cast figures in their part
BOOK THE FOURTH
GETTING ON WITH IT
Once broken in lust’s gale a stem never
Without affection’s crude tender touch,
Death’s bell’s always too late.
When every new day is vengeance dire
For love withheld,
Tomorrow’s loom weaves only shrouds
On hope’s battlefield.
To spite doubt’s all consuming worms
Gnawing without rest,
Trust well spare love’s dreams survive
Blind fate’s final test.
Yet measure not trusting against reason,
Or otherwise miscast it;
Let time’s numbing balm soothe passion,
While striving to outlast it.
Pull life’s barb from your beating heart
And against all odds live;
Accepting loss as Heavens’ prize purse
And skull grinning; still give.
If uncertainties do blossom in winter’s
Pause. Think. Draw a last deep draught,
Die for what you’re holding.
BOOK THE FIFTH
He Says. She says.
MINE ALL MINE
To love her gently at a remove When instinct is demanding he take her
To lie to himself that her heart is closed Because he can not make her
To bay lustfully of their undying love And in a moment still forsake her
To bind their union in eternity A living knot that will hold not break him
To hope as dark night looms That Love’s inner clarion must wake him
To fight in joy against a foe She begs Life’s Maker to not unmake him
BOOK THE SIXTH
Grasping the Nettle.
AN END TO IT?
Falling from folly’s heights
Grinding ground bedrock splits apart
Broken up into smithereens
Shittering shattering a fissured heart
Eyes sewn close shut at last
Open in time to see a laughing Dawn
The Dark succumbs to life
And upon his death he is finally born
Swaddled in a dragon’s maze
Of what may not be ~ life’s purpose?
Choking on clots of memory?
Living on upturned? An angry tortoise?