A Man and His Dog
There was nothing special about the dog
His fur was a pale yellow, mangy and dirty
He wasn’t a puppy, ready to take on the world
And his ill manners couldn’t be attributed to young age
But instead a poor upbringing and traumatic past
That sometimes made him act like a savage
The man spent time abroad, fighting like a savage
He saw himself in the old, beaten dog
The man had killed many people in the past
And his soul felt heavy and dirty
The dog didn’t know any of this, despite his old age
He only knew that they were both afraid of the world
At first, they lived in their own separate worlds
The man tried washing the dog, as his fur was savage
Sometimes they played in the yard, like children of a young age
The relationship grew, and the man began to love the dog
They frolicked in the mud, got their paws dirty
The dog began to trust the man despite his past
They often fought the past
The man remembered his time in the war, a different world
He wanted to wash away the sins and the dirt
Sometimes, the dog bit and snapped savagely
He remembered being a young dog
When his owners tied him up and left him outside to age
They both could feel their bodies age
Some of it naturally, some of it due to their pasts
The man wished not to outlive his dog
For he was his only friend in this lonely world
But the world is savage
It is not clean or pure, only dirty
And time took his dog because the world is dirty
Underground where he would rot and age
No one knows why, but life is savage
And when his dog died, he waited for the pain to pass
But it never did, cruel world
So he laid down beside his dog
And placed his old head on the dirty ground, thinking of the past
They would walk together through the world, despite how they aged
Because with a dog, you can beat anything savage
Scribbles
As children,
They were taught to color in the lines,
And they learned that if somehow the crayon slipped
And strayed from the boundaries of that black line,
The picture became worthless.
They regarded their teachers as authorities on such matters
And listened as they fed them lies about art and its value.
And as the children grew,
They carried false notions with them
And stayed far away from any scribbles.
Beautiful scribbles that were full of meaning and life
Were thrown away and lost forever while
Their more conventional counterparts were framed
And hung on the wall right next to the ones that looked
Just like them.