Starving Dogs

Starving dogs.


They beg like starving dogs on the streets.
Loyal and unafraid their images capture split seconds in time faking mastery of the spirit or unique acts of kindness.

Yet they beg like starving dogs. Chewing and gnawing at the left over games, competitions past their time frame. Illiterate rambles on notes in champagne. Anything to be seen above the crowd and they beg.

I need this for her, him or them!
I scream “I need!” with a lonely heart help me! I’m torn! Broken! Ripped apart!
I can’t write, read or sing I have no body! No anything!

The verses should get louder and fall into one voice, one meaning, one sound drowning forever until heard by an ultimate voice of saviour that is your own

But they don’t.

They rise and fall in no order, no realism, no sense until all you hear is the same needy “give me!” “give me” over and over again like a poorly beating heart and they beg.

They beg like starving dogs on the streets.

Forgive my crown it’s fallen yet I can make you rich!
You’re the boss, reach the top I’ll follow you I shall not stop!
You are my friend aren’t you? Lend to me your all. I’ll be back in a few.

They bleed together rancid wounds with their sceptic skin in the rain of their own sweat. When the day turns cold you’re led to believe they huddle together keeping warm, singing and protecting each other.
They don’t.
They beg like starving dogs on the streets perfecting their act with one another until the many poor are the richer few.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2014.


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