7200
Wynken Blynken
and Nod???
(ah...oh methinks
this pissant
pooch woof lee
barked up
the wrong tree –
reed don my
mongrel friend)
This poetic
endeavor doth
not boast
nor brag
to take digs
on front page
headline grab
bing news,
nonetheless dag
nab bit
significant dys
function prevails
when bodily energy
does shutterfly
like a black flag
without rapid
eye movement,
this lix
spittle chap
feels like
an old hag
whereat every
friggin bone (er)
in this straggly,
mangy, and
creaky ship
of state
feels like jag
head shards
piercing
thine flesh
with pronounced jet lag
and reacts with
the slightest
provocation
like a
curmudgeonly
cranky
compromised
nag,
yet, this
muttering
mouth foaming
flea bitten
doggone
chow barker
bows down
in (toto)
obeisance
(like an
obedient
Dachshund)
tail wagging,
trump petting,
and snout
sniffing out
provenance
on par
with the
smell of new
sofa despite
fur vent
angry ma
stiff masta
paws zing
aghast at
dog eared,
glom haired,
and icky
stained
new furniture,
how petty,
versus slumber
lest awakening
the
Cerberus within,
hence faux
long enough
to excel as
the top notch
mix breed
boxer golden
retriever terrier
male de
livery postbag
(as taught
at canine
obedient
school)
upon spilling
contents,
the bulk of
printed material
detailing
importance,
sans letting
sleeping
Canis lupus
familiaris
lye undisturbed,
especially
after a bath
when pooch
resembles
a limp
dish rag
all apropos
hot (gravy
trained) relevant
topics
for instance,
when feeling
sleep deprived
detailing how
to shepherd
and summon
the snoop
doggy dog
inchoate
hounding gnarly
Marley
elusive dream
fostering feigning
fearsome
nightmare
asper getting
lost without
a name tag.
