Oh Mighty Dog
Oh mighty dog, there in your front yard—
Send your unseemly canine racket outward
Mr. Yip-yap master, King fang artist
Growling your terrorism at the startled passer-by;
You certainly have spunk for someone on a leash.
Who gave you those mealy, tasteless
crunchy nuggets in your bowl?
Tell me that, oh mighty dog,
And we will see
Whose hand secures that tether.
We will see your liege and lord
Whose philosophy you spout so ineloquently.
The one for whom your are happy minion.
I laugh at your bow-wow warning
Mighty dog, as I pass on the way to my job.
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Machine Gun
Oh I see you, machine gun,
there in the John Wayne movie.
Your staccato bursts
sound like free typewriters tapping.
I know, machine gun,
that you are not filled with live ammo.
If you were, the actors
would be mowed down for real,
and oh, think of the legal mess.
Insurance would skyrocket,
bye-bye typewriter.
But could it be, machine gun,
that such is the price of a masterpiece?
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