It’s like there are two dogs
that I hold inside of me.
One wants to sit on my lap
and lick my hand,
and play and run
and go for long walks.
Then there is the other,
It wants to grimace and growl
and bare its teeth,
and rip the face off this world
and of everything it sees.
I ask myself, which one will I follow
I tell myself I will follow the one I feed.
talks all about this big war of the spirit
and stresses that, it’s no game,
no politics, physical or not can steer it.
There will be no passing the buck,
no pointing the finger in blame.
if you let me,
let me give two messages,
and I choose this one,
I want to hear about hope.
And hope says:
“Romance is dead,
no it isn’t,
it’s all in the head.
Just like foreplay could be a game of cards.
You make it so,
by snapping your synapse,
yes, you do, and it grows”.
Now isn’t that worth its weight in gold…
And despair says:
” You are on your way
to being an old man
with the posture of
a question mark.
Always asking why
without parting your lips.
You will feel like you did
when you were an angry child,
eyes full of defiance.
your hands on your hips”.
“Keep turning your back
to their turned backs,
while the walls will
keep turning to the left,
and whatever you try,
that you ever choose
will never be what was best”.
Watch your life go by, watch as it goes,
watch it frame by frame.
There will be days when it all appears a waste,
and times that it will make you feel
that your kindness is your shame.
It isn’t just me that cuts cut,
no, all others bleed.
Then a breeze broke the solid heat
and quelled the sweat and quenched the thirst,
You can toast the twisted souls
or you can have them cursed.
In my mind’s eye,
for a brief moment,
no longer enveloped and inflamed.
And I see why my devil has so many names…
Never has it been one cause, on reaction,
and Oh, my thoughts and actions,
my shame that comes in fractions of degrees.
I can say there are other planes,
I can think that if I please,
though with every breath that I breathe,
I want to announce to my world
that I am not out just to feed.
there is that sleeping dog,
that one sick soul,
and out of some emotional need,
to make it better, some need to make it easy…
Like it had some pain or purpose,
like it had some point that arose
out of some need of something
that just had to be said.
Like that dog that you just kicked
only had a snack of grass
before he laid himself to take his bed.
You have been nudging him with your boot.
And now he is awake
and he is going to open his yap
and throw up on your shoes
before he commences to growl.
You may as well throw in the towel
because it can’t be tamed, no, your mind is trained.
This devil goes by so many names, and I can’t fix a damn thing.