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Odin Roark

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· Perceptions


· Prosetry at Work

· Said and Unsaid - Vol 1


Short Stories
· Cave Cracks

· Bubble Choices

· Surreal Dummy--Still Here

· IT

· Faux Companion

· Take Me, I'm Free (Flash Fiction)

· Beer Neck Flower

· Closed

· What Do You Do?

· Dream-Blisters

· Discipline of the artist

· The Dogs of Sochi

· A Crow With Super Smarts

· Targets Be Warned

· Simple Times (an observation)

· Cavemen in Tuxedos (an editorial)

· Ghost Town Ghosts

· Note to Self

· Essay on Poetic Theory

· Love... Each Day

· Epiphanies In Progress

· Crushing Silence...

· Truth Can't Lie

· Nature's Romance

· Wounded Air

· Bloviating Defamer

· Addiction

· Introspective Road

· Hiding

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Books by Odin Roark
  Junk Yard Dogs
by Odin Roark
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Rated "PG" by the Author.

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Recent poems by Odin Roark
•  Love... Each Day
•  Epiphanies In Progress
•  Crushing Silence...
•  Truth Can't Lie
•  Nature's Romance
           >> View all 1,089

The tragedy in Colorado will sorrowfully generate but another round of “short term” memory loss with law makers.

Junk Yard Dogs

Does it have to be this way?
cries the inner voice
trained to hate
mostly self

Bark loud
bare your teeth
growl some fear
bellows the master
gripping the chain
choking and whipping
burrowing his will deep into soft matter
once of connected neural sparks
perpetual holiday glow
now lit by dimming light
the moonlight glint of razor wire captivity
walling in all that's left

How calm once
this miraculous sentience
this simple love
born of gentle nuzzling caress
a mother's honor to care
given with innate affection

Somewhere along maturation's path
fear mongers lobbied
peacnik slurs became the battle cry
as violence taught as norm
seeded fear into possession of arms
the price one pays
to protect oneself
says the master

Others were cited as takers and manipulators
paranoia began its insidious creep
the blood stream's contamination grew
pollution worked its eroding effect
‘til synaptic connections frayed

Tenuous resolve succumbed
lights dimmed
sparks died
darkness became the light

Does it have to be this way?

The junk yard dog in all of us
longs for the warmth of what once was
even as collars cinch tighter
chains jerk harder
shouts to obey become louder

Might there be no answer?

Might we be too far gone?

Might wars of mind
finally capitulate
become but dinner scraps
to be fed to the next generation
perpetuating the endless cycle

Junk yard dogs
not born




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Reviewed by John Flanagan
as an outsider - i'm a Singapore citizen,
not an American one - i have a strict personal policy
of not commenting on the internal affairs of another nation
but it is tempting; nonetheless, i won't break my self-imposed
sanction but you can imagine how i feel about all of this
in terms of human development and advancement

fine delivery indeed

Reviewed by Jerry Bolton
"They" are winning. I'm no longer even quite sure who "they" are anymore.
Reviewed by Diana Legun (Reader)
Reading this somehow brought to mind the book Animal Farm, especially "Junk yard dogs/made/not born" and "once of connected neural sparks" and "Might we be too far gone?" "burrowing his will into soft matter" is powerfully physical, as is "razor wire captivity". I like your choice of title. This is so haunting: "Does it have to be this way?" ~~ Diana
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