PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

What I once considered to be my bedroom

Where I would, you know, like chill out

Listen to the tune of my thinking thoughts,

And feel only a little, only a tad distraught

But only due to the pre eminent onslaught

Of the pre eminent problems and perils

Of practicing principles, pardoning peoples

Myself included, in all our endless evils.

What I once considered to be my bedroom

Has become my dog's toilet, that angel

The carpet splatter-painted in shit-stains

Like the coat of a stray, speckled sheep

Whereupon I roll and weap (NO TREAT!)

I could justify or punish either of one us.

Well, punishment already for me would be

That if I am failing to get her out enough

Then there you go, lazy and careless man.

Now pick it up... light a candle if you can

Place it there and prostrate for a prayer?

Rather than enacting the pun---this one:

Which is to beat the living shit out of her

Father, I feel I do not deserve this damn

Dog's disgusting, deliberated disobedience

Over and over--- sometimes twice a day

As I am sure that I walk her plenty indeed

And I treat her so very compassionately

Despite behaving in such a way to enrage.