Tuesday, October 24, 2006

The Isle of Dogs

There were once wolves on this island
and invading lords grew pale at the thought
of fruitless sailing into the teeth
of unforgiving westerlies.
Our mountains lowered higher than theirs
and the sheer sides of unscaled cliffs
crowded in on the quivering ranks
of their tame mercenaries.
Rain sliced through armour.
Shields snagged on vicious brambles.
Weapons rusted mysteriously.
Even the flattest plain rose up,
with beasts that belched fire and smoke,
roared defiance.

Now we are domesticated -
dogs that guide the blind in circles,
insignificant dogs that yap and run,
muzzled dogs, puzzled dogs,
tired out dogs, wired up in cages,
dogs that hunt in drunken packs,
dogs that piss in the street,
dogs that fawn at any master’s feet,
dogs that fart and roll over,
Big Issue dogs with appealing eyes,
dogs that lie in front of the fire,
then lie and lie and lie,
wild eyed dogs that cringe
and play dead too easily,
tricky dogs, licky , licky dogs,
dogs mired in their own vomit,
dogs chasing their own tails.

One for the lovers of myths. Image from http://www.propstore.com/images/products/638/battle.jpg

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