Hounded

Saw it, all that cultural significance underplayed against a background of conspiracy not missed by masks. Hood, hood and his dog, hood, his dog, and a gun …. The Hood and his dog in his car and …. A hood and his dog and a gun and a car and …. A hood in a car with his dog and a gun …. Lead dog day, on a lead, to me, to me, regarding an unworkable Dangerous Dogs Act. More sense, sensible idiots raised from the dead, the dead, dead idiocy. Brains, bargain brains, hood’s ineffectual righteousness, learning big, big enough, his neuron firing hasn’t worked any past or present wonders, read that angled neck tattoo, reads covered by the collar, point by point, to the point. Hood saved a hound with bleak unbreakable jaw bite, ratchet it up, ratchet it down, down to town, while whiter than real white trainers haven’t tread Astroturf. Come again, again to me, to me, up the wall urine yellow treacle stuff, a field caravan is all I need now, leave me out in the sun.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in poetry & prose and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s