…Like when the dog farts and stares round for the intruder,

you shift the smell of blame of on your own shortcomings and feverish intent,

on anything that moves within your eyesight and dress your lies in robes of fur

covering the brown stain that appears on your underpants with money well spent.

The Cowering Chihuahuas and possessive Terrier smells just as fragrant

as the keen eyed Labrador leading the blind astray

and yet all are equal to the roundworm that feeds under the skin with skewed slant

and shits exactly where it find it would have its bowels and genitals lay.

The robes of imagined office that are worn with unbelievable arrogance

to the point where even a dog would cry foul and enough of the smell

as you rub its nose in all the torrential aftermaths.

The one who fills the posture who fouls his dog like pants

and the suffering it should be seen to be put down or at least quell

but who, when sees the foot of the unwary step in it, only becomes the hyena and  laughs.

Ian D. Hall 2015