Everybody’s tired of it today.
Tired of the same old everyday vibrations
chugging through their bodies
down from their throats to
their hands
to the ground.
The lechers are too tired to lech today.
You see?
Dogs don’t even try to lick their buddies.
And now the sidewalk prophets are even putting down their
street signs, even walking off their jobs
saying: “Doom.
Whatever.
Doom.”
when buddy dog licking stops, you know we’re in trouble, although this act is apparently still rampant in the white house, sans dog. explains the chapped lips.
“We are alone, absolutely alone on this chance planet: and, amid all the forms of life that surround us, not one, excepting the dog, has made an alliance with us.”
—Maurice Maeterlinck
the dog could do better.
much love this poem, love it much. Best poem. best one I like ‘dis.
had to look up etymology of lecher.
http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=lecher
I guess you used the ing=finitive correctly. Kudos!
when buddy dog licking stops, you know we’re in trouble, although this act is apparently still rampant in the white house, sans dog. explains the chapped lips.
“We are alone, absolutely alone on this chance planet: and, amid all the forms of life that surround us, not one, excepting the dog, has made an alliance with us.”
—Maurice Maeterlinck
the dog could do better.