CTwelve
Wandering Wolf
Sunday Radio and Shadow
No one plays good music
On Sunday mornings
It’s so boring
Most just talk
The radio doesn’t play
Much good music anyway
I’m looking for Grandma’s dog
On this Sunday morning
He’s a white shadow
In a sea
Of trees
And trailer houses
He ran from the fireworks
Why do we even celebrate
With bombs
Bombs kill independence
Is this search hopeless?
He’s like a white coyote
With ice blue eyes
If I find him
I just might take him
Home with me
Screw fireworks and
Sunday mornings
Screw the radio
I scream out the window
But I’ve never been
Very loud
I wish they’d scream
On the radio
The radio is too soft
And too popular
I keep hoping to see a white dot
The more I search
The more I lose hope
Part 2:
Ideas bring hope
But put into action
Failures bring in
Hopeless thoughts
Ideas are more fun
Action is hard work
And a lot of fruitless hours
I passed a turtle
He’s pretty safe
Out here
In the middle
Of nowhere
I should turn around
I don’t even know
Where the hell
This road goes
Endless county roads
A thousand head of cattle
At every corner
Thank God for Spotify
And free downloads
No service on
County Roads
I stopped screaming
Now I’m just looking
Too long and
I’ll have to fill up
This old truck
Maybe get some donuts
Part 3:
Firework debris
Out in the streets
Who stated this tradition?
Why not something
Peaceful?
We can be peaceful
Hell-raisers
Back at the highway
Wars are loud
Peace should be celebrated
With peace
Not sounds of violence
Or Sounds of war
Maybe fireworks drown out
The mournful cries
Of those who died
Fighting
And those who loved others
That died
Fighting
To be free from Kings
Who thought they
Owned the land
Because they owned
More pointless gold
Screw Kings
And anyone else who thinks
He’s above others
Kings are like this
Sunday radio
Just all talk and
No value
Part 4:
Kings are like fireworks
Just colorful noise
That scares away
The innocent
Who only wanted love
To begin with
Ozzy said it perfectly
We don’t fight for
A better world
So we’re all dead anyway
Dead and too much talk
Like Sunday radio,
Fireworks, and Kings
It’s 10 a.m.
Still no sign of the Shadow
One more wide
Round loop
I’ll scream some more
Head to the HQ
A little more hopeless
Than before
He’s a smart dog
Maybe he’ll find
His way home
Just saw a black snake
Probably a rat snake
A vulture sits by the pond
Waiting for death
Doesn’t take long here
My white Shadow could
Be anywhere
A brown calf is out of her pen
Hopefully she can
Get back in
My hopes aren’t much good
On this Sunday morning
Too many failures
Drains hope
Back at the HQ
Still no shadow
Heading home to eat
Some breakfast
Will try again later
I haven’t lost hope yet
Just hungry
I hate fireworks
I hate Sunday radio
I hate Kings
I want my Shadow
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