The Lone Wolf in the Moonlight

it's quiet tonight
I walk along the brow of a hill
the canyons are empty below me
the desert is bathed in moonlight
there is nothing to see
I hear nothing, sense nothing
I am the desert
and the desert is me

you still haunt me
especially at night
your warmth, your hair
your touch, your life
I long to chase you again through the fields of golden maize
I wish to stand on the giant rock at the head of the ravine
and watch...
as you weave your way flirtatiously towards me
across those grey, flat, shingle rocks.

but I am the hungry wolf
who hunts the plains alone each night
you were my insatiable hunger
and now you have become my unquenchable thirst.
and even if I throw my head back
and howl up at the night.
I'll never hear you howling back
not now, not ever
never again in this life

cause every night I am the solitary wolf
howling alone under the moonlight

Subscribe now

the tyrant forgets
that his power is temporal
that his days are numbered
that his bones will weaken
that his memory will go…
and all that will remain
is the filth and the shame
of his sullied tyrant’s name.

Share

Share

I am imperfect
this is certain
was it ever in doubt
clarity came
with you, little fire
your birth inspired,
a change in me.

son,
this is your dad
laid bare and disrobed
of ego and presumption
sometimes kind
often frustrated
always broken.

committed though
to always show,
that despite my flaws
and fractured claws
I scratch for more,
for you
my boy

that I am less
untethers me, so…
before you
I kneel
like a son to a father,
praying that I too,
will grow.

This Land Runs Dry

“I hate you”
shouts the bearded man
through clenched teeth
the stench of his striped heart
pumps with the enigma of red, white and blue

this land runs dry

“I’m an American man”
he shouts again, spit flies
rabid and uncouth
as if his birthright had been shaken loose
legitimatized hate?
as if making America great
was his white-washed calling

this land is falling

never has dying looked so good
amid the chaos and the fury
as the fundamental patriots march
dressed for church and Monday night football
they’ll never take a knee

oh please, this land runs dry

Christ come back, that’s my cry
for your sheep have not simply gone astray
they’ve been bitten
by a rabid wolf in a red cap
possessed now
inoculated
with a legion of hate
and a dark kind of faith
the cross has fallen
just a shadow remains
no longer wood, just a star spangled cloth
perhaps these words are off
but i cannot find the grace
in the harshness of this faith
or the curse of these words
that exclude, and detest
those who are different
or thought of as less

Advertisement

the wound is deep and this land is dry

angry man you never owned this land
cause you would have watered it
planted some shade
dressed the wound
but you did none of this
and now you cry out in rage
as if you have been wounded
by those who are free enough,
to take a knee
while your angry giddy heart,
hangs on the shadow of yesterday’s tree.

Subscribe now

The Eagle and the Man

The Eagle and the Man
I heard the story of a man
who raised an eagle
from an egg,
it became his best friend
in the whole world,
they were…
inseparable,
he loved it so,
everywhere the man went
the eagle sure would go.

(he tied a rope around its leg so he would never lose it)

so each day he’d walk
with his eagle
on a lead,
flying ten feet
above the ground,
both of them
kind of pleased,
at this point I need to say
that the eagle flew
just to one side
of the man,
so when it passed
…well…
it missed him
with his poo.


I know its
quite surprising,
but the eagle
loved the man,
they’d often sit
at Oceans Cliff,
feathered wing in
calloused hand,
in silence not
requiring words
they’d watch
the sun go down
and when morning woke
the man would cook
the fish they’d bought in town.

you know Eagle thought
he was truly blessed
to have a friend
like man,
and life was
love and roses,
until the Eagle
shook death’s hand,
you see Eagle,
had a dodgy heart
and I don’t think he knew.
until that day,
his heart exploded,
and our eagle
sure went blue.

it happened bright
one summers dawn,
right down on
Oceans Cliff,
after man had cooked
his taloned friend,
a healthy dose
of fish,
on mornings walk,
with Eagle soaring
just above the man,
at cruising speed
and altitude
just ten feet,
above the land,
when suddenly…
soaring through
the sky
with wings spread
open wide…
there came
another eagle
on his early morning ride.

you see I don’t think this eagle
in all his years
with man,
had ever seen
a bird like this,
living just as
God had planned,
perhaps it was
this beauty
wild,
untamed,
unleashed,
that caused our
little eagles’ heart
to suddenly…
just…
cease.

but the vet
who looked
at Eagle
to find out
why he died,
well he found
something
very strange,
way down
deep inside,
you see Eagles heart
it was not there
not found
inside his chest,
it fact it
wasn’t there
at all
concluded
our dear vet.

you see man
had raised
our Eagle
like a child
from an egg,
and Eagle never
flew the skies,
his wings they
never spread,
his eagle heart
it did not grow
we can be
sure of that,
for man’s great love
had killed him
it was his leash,
that held him back

well the story
just gets sadder,
its the story,
of the man,
he still sits,
at Oceans Cliff,
he still
walks the land,
and you know
I’m not sure,
he’s noticed
that Eagles time
has ceased,
cause he still
drags his
feathered friend
At the end of his ten foot leash.

If you hate control and love freedom, please share this poem on social and subscribe to Zagoosie.

Subscribe now

yeah, the street dog howls

i walk so numb
under the pale sun
through the towns
of my youth
ravaged by this…
painful truth
that the carousel spins,
but no children play
for the blue of the sky
has been snatched
by the gray

and all i can hear is the street dog's howl
inside this desert heart
where the darkness
growls

Subscribe now