For Catherine

For Catherine

Be Mine, my Love
turn not your face away
nor roll your tiny gimlet eyes
looking for easier prey
I'm yours, I'll not ever stray

Forget the horse, the cow, the sheep
memorize not my broken fence, too easy to leap
consider not the poodle, easy to defeat
I'm yours, yours, virginal and sweet

I've combed my hair to emulate your look
for my tattoos, every antibiotic I have took
for you, for you, my square-headed vice
I'd lie, I'd steal, I'd bolt in a trice
with you at my side our escape we'd enact
and snuggle together till the HATERS!!! react

How could they hate you, my calamitous heart?
My life now has meaning, from you I won't part
till a bad man with catch pole doth hustle you thither
while I wring my empty hands, wail excuses and dither
to none that understand that love most rarest
whether wiggle of butt or licked unto death
The truest Pit lover is them that is barest.

~Sadfalada


catherine hedges

Sadfalada strikes again

They are everywhere, everywhere
on pretty streets, and ugly;
on walking paths, on beaches,
in parks, playgrounds, in shops,
in flimsy backyards
or suddenly in houses we thought secure
they bolt across open space, head low,
with eyes like fixed gravel
common as stones, everywhere
we see them, adrenaline scorches the image, body becomes trembling ice
yet we are told they cannot be known, that we deny the loss and toll,
and ignorance, accept

But this is how they may be known,
by hellish roil of nightmare sound
as a living thing
we love and protect,
in futile struggle, is ground down to death
and that death isn't quick, it's meant to prolong
the display of bloodcraft, the Raveners song
but this unknown actor works in silence,
the chorus provides him with shrieks and screams and blows, he will not relent
till costumed in blood and shreds of a dying soul
and is hurried from the scene by his keeper, grinning in furtive pride
and bloody footprints follow
like rose petals and confetti

Out on any busy midday street another performance is unfolding
in a cluster of anguish, the chorus of watchers heave
and lunge, in panic and horror
the dog unmoving and silent
as a little grey poodle is throttled
and lies flattened as an
Irregular shadow on the pavement
his only life a strangled thin scream
a fraying ribbon tying him to life
clinging to it as he is gripped
the throat
a throat no larger than a child's wrist
rising and falling with his owner's own shrieks
as he was thrashed into the sidewalk he had walked so happily
and his silly, soft curls
made him look like a child's frivolous plaything
Now broken, old, discarded, nothing
The bulldog, the bulldog
Is unadorned, as befits his task
he wears a metal collar and
on his huge head is marked
a death mask
and his thick mineral skull
Unassailable and cruel
digs down it's stone weight
to gnaw, shake, and chew
the slaps, tugs, and splashing
does nothing to deter
he thinks it only due his dire work
receive the honor
his owner still straddles him,
that gargoyle to buttress
and whines and tugs, and knocks
his head
tells him time to soon desist
when then the poodle escapes, and scrambles free
it's joy in life forever tainted
but the bulldog in his owners grasp
Is raised upright as though sainted
and put on view between her legs
it's meaty forelegs spread stiffly wide
as though to show her dog was braced
for contender or for homicide
a steroidal toad, might think some not in the Pit troops
an unnatural creature for delusional dupes.

Justice Mule inspires again

I'm the ghost of that dog,
yeah, me, you musta seen me
inna battle, a dustup Supremo
a contest of skill and noble bravado
It went down like this and I modestly say
I was seekin immorality that dark grungy day
an I was swaggerin round town like the gangsta I be
when I spied me a horse kinda curiosity
who looked nice and tender, all offered for me
a feast for da eyes and a treat for da teeth
and so I did wait till the challenge was met
and flew with my jaws like a toothed lunatic
and lost my grip to tease the hapless brute
and saw his eyes, who knew the truth
that I would win, in leisurely dispatch
and swagger away without even no rash
when next I knew, in his teeth was me
and flung like moldy old laundry
and then that brute on my ribs went a-joggin
and put many more dents in my big fearsome noggin
and swirled me round inna slithery puddles
his brain it weren't right, his thinking was muddled
cause where was the blood, the gore, and defeat
where was the pile of hair and torn meat?
i have pride in my work, I think it appalling
that a horsey-type thing on my body keeps falling
the creature played dirty, I'll teach it a lesson
finish what them start, then goes for my blessin'
it all a flesh wound, it barely a test
lemme up coward, I'll grip shut your last breath
but now the light's murky, the pavement seems soft
they will holler my praises, they'll send them aloft
they'll come to my shrine, a nice shiny hollow
where a hopeless horse-thing did steal my tomorrow
and left a fine dog-print in the bloody wet brick
a warning sign to lesser dogs
to best not lunge to bite so quick.

Sadfalada


liveleak

youtube

dogman poetry hour

Sadfalada was inspired by richard's poetry. who can blame her?

The carpet burns
From embedded Doritos
And beer vomitus
It is crusted
With aerosolized blood
And unrestrained burps and curses
Grimed with tread of dog and felon, and trite curses spent as freely as counterfeit money
Where ugly dogs with dented skull
And pumpkin maw
Do taste of another's bounty,
To great excitement and dreams of bail money
And all are by Walmart apparelled,
And stiff middle finger ever erect, never fails
And all these things cause the carpet to burn
The Harvest Gold orlon, a rust-red to turn
When glory is over and other crime beckons
And dogs have gone home to sutures or death
The carpet remains, a soaked testimony
To boys having fun with their dogs, depravity at it's best.

Finis