The dog of the other dimension

The face of the dog soot into the clouds
written into the sky gravely, graffity hound
All travelers turned to drive back to their homes
lusting bridges already crossed as they'd roamed

Bridges that seperate world's and values
that part realities and hover over deluge
The dog head etched into the sky
warning any wanderer that disaster is nigh

Superstition may be a joke a loose mouth's give
It all depends which side of the bridge you live
which side of the vowel you stress when a loose mouth sends
Point shout laughter and continue toward the horizon then

Keep rolling toward final destination's wind tide
that broken bridge that has idle repair men either side
talking about the good old days and hiding from the horizon
And there is no river here sir just a seperation

Without the bridge it's just two dogs barking into a mirror
one trying to convince the other it's real out of horror
Not far down from where the realities shift
These dogs trespass at midday's a.m and p.m steep cliff

Current politics

Many tell us of the way to live
Have some special ideal to give
Some use persuasive discourse
Others verbal force
While less of us were born with a sieve

So all the lumps cursedly accumulate
all they say falls on our plate
Those hungry gulp it quickly down
even with an urgent frown
Just to choke on undigested church and state

As it falls from quivering lips
bloodshot eyes come to grips
with the mess sprayed well into blue necked abodes
Chunks rough and round as warts on toads
Crumbs so rare and roaches won't sip
On the regurgitated sludge of current politics

What a journey

What a journey life is said the road
Travelers always crossing over us
What a journey it is claimed the signs
But the sky just sighed and clouded up

What a journey said the rocks in the path
shoes and boots and feet moving toward the horizon
What a journey said the trees
Looking to us for shelter, then leaving to find their prize

What a journey said the mud
they carry me half way to the sea
before I dry crack and get lost in the breeze
What a journey indeed

What a journey said the lost boot
some moose scoops me up away from fireside
and the traveler walks away one boot tired
A journey indeed said the moose unpreoccupied

What a journey said the wheel
bumping along meeting rocks up and personal
profound introductions to mud up to the heels
The wood on it slowly peels