I'm a Dog on A Chain
I'm a dog on a chain
Living out in the rain
A lost cause on paws
The perimeter of my circle of life
Is determined by the number of links
In my restriction
I just have dirt, man
But there's grass -- right there!
In front of my nose
Or a light year away
But because I can't feel it
Because it's not mine
I won't be your friend
I'll scare you away
I'm a dog on a chain
Living out in the rain
A lost cause on paws
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Just Down the Road
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12 comments:
Nice, SleekPelt. We can all relate to his plight.
Perhaps a stanza on the once white fur besmeared by his limitations.
Clash: Thanks -- and no kidding. Plus the fifty-fifty mud-crud sludge he has the pleasure of pacing in.
I remember visiting a deer hunting camp and dogs tied up digging holes , deep holes. Sad to see , dogs should be hanging with there peeps. Chaining a sentient being to a peg for its life is just not good juju.
josh: Well put.
What are you talking about? A chain is the only way I can keep my Old Lady home on Friday nights and full moons.
Josh: You never visited a hunting camp, that is just a dream.
Mom
Toliets: Aunt the aunt that chewed tobacco in Pender county,she ran a brothel for awhile back in the day, we had to buy cokes out of her machine, she sat watching while spitting in her coffee can. Uncle Kellys dog is the dog that I have in mind, a house a chain and a collection of holes. Your mother let it slip about the brothel one night while we were drinking a moderate amount of wine...Moderate on the Chadwick scale is somewhere around an emperial gallon. What the hell was her name? You remeber not a ducks call away form Burgaw...Aunt, ?
Josh---you may have had a wierd childhood. I'm not sure, though.
Excellent poem, SP. I was actually pretty moved. I really like dogs.
Zee: Thanks. Funny thing is I drive right by the poor creature every day on my way home from work, and I only noticed him for the first time this weekend. I'm going to roll my window down and say hello to him every day as I drive by.
zee: I may have
Josh, Aunt Christine, plenty of weirdness there. Odel? Uncle Joe? Vienia sausage cans half full of tobaco spit? No wonder you are so weird.
Roscoe bulds really nice dog houses out of old washing machines, that's where he made his money so he could buy the camocamper and travel the country.
I gots me some dogs too, one has been to 43 states! The other may never be let off his chain, skull too small for it's brain, keeps it crazy.
Free Puppies, that's what the sign said but they keep em tied to a washing machine.
Mom
I'm going to cry, mainly because I see no chain. Is it really there, or is it the habit of the circle of mud that keeps the beast trapped?
damnsle: There is indeed a chain, but you bring up a good question: What would happen if there weren't?
You know what's even more jacked about this? The house where this dog lives seems completely abandoned. I've never seen a light or any other sign of life there. Obviously somebody's feeding the dog, but it doesn't even have the interaction of a kid running out the back door or of a car pulling up into a driveway or something. Talk about alone.
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