Tag Archives: Addiction.

The Starving Dog

When life puts a starving dog in your path

You have a choice

To kick its teeth in, out of revultion

Or to feed it


Deep inside each of us are a Black dog and a White dog

The White dog is love and comes from our memory of innocence

The Black dog is fierce and comes from abandonment, abuse and neglect


To heal spiritualy you must pick up the Black dog

And even though he snarls, foams at the mouth and bites at you

You must love him

For he is your Black Dog


I was a starving dog once


==Marty Wilde 2017

Im Dyin Lord

They call it depression
In the looking glass
I do not know
I call it the path

Emotional healing
And I can’t complain
I’m looking up ahead
An approaching train

It stops to get me
And I climb aboard
It takes me down
To the place that I’m…

Dying Lord
I’m dying Lord
Said I’m dying Lord

I’m Dying Lord
Emotional upheaval
Said I’m dying Lord

© 2015 Martin H Wilde


Alone in a mist, the man and his horn, head down

The sun beams are near; the Gin will be Frankie’s in town

Walk on a slant, a capsule for you and your baby

You done this before, you’ll make it this time, you say


The peak is so close, you touched it before

You’re almost there now, it’s sitting behind the next door

The stage is your friend, when it’s alive, you shine

But it can turn, alien, lost, high and dry


Out here adrift, you hope for the magic to come

You think back again, the times you said you were done

The people, they smile, like creatures you know from somewhere

Impending doom, a lamb in the black demon’s fair


Get me through this, I’ll make good my time

I’ll carry milk and honey, in that old nursery rhyme

The sickness is strong, twenty-seven years’ old

Older than sunshine, I’m afraid I will fold


I remember Daddy’s voice, the Bacon and Eggs

I feel the fear like Satan, and I whimper and beg

A minute of reprieve, anything for my life

Twenty-seven years old, Bix Beiderbecke died


Alone in a mist, the man and his life, head down

The smoke in the room, AA meeting in town

Walk on today, a capsule for you and your baby

You done this before, you’ll make it this time, you say


© 1993 Martin H. Wilde


Air flight, float down
See the trailer, outskirts town
Find the floozies in the gowns
His oil soaked undies, lust and found

Jism chasm, she’s so fine
Cosmetology’s fine line
Paint it up to sell it high
Twist the colon of your mind

Vicious love, to make it pay
Angry pity cries today
It never matters, what you say
Lust-and-found the game you play

Side slip, vacant eyes
Angry pity, fearless cries
Use them up, and down your thighs
Its only time, ‘Til they get wise

To make it through and not get caught
Just shut your mouth, like you were taught
And sell your love, for nick-nacks bought
The lust and found, where safety’s sought

Smiles abound
Sell your soul
Lust and found

© 2015 Martin H Wilde

Where love rules, there is no will to power

“Where love rules, there is no will to power, and where power predominates, love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other.”
==C.G. Jung

This is true because love grows out of a choice to be vulnerable; and power exploits vulnerability in an attempt to control.

These are the opposites
Love – vulnerability, truth and intimacy
Power – manipulation, control and selfishness

Yin and yang.
Light and Dark.
Union and separation.

==Marty Wilde


To consistently stand up to another persons untrue behavior with truth is noble and potentially helpful to a person who seeks change. 

But for those who allow fear to take them back from their path, you are doing that persons’ work for them and they do not develop. You become the focus of their dysfunctional behavior and are often punished for your kindnesses.

Today, I release others to the dark and light powers so they may be molded as the universe sees fit. I will feel my way through the pain of letting go, until I reach the other side.

==Marty Wilde


Waddling fat and mesmerized
Dull and disengaged
Remembering yourself heroically
But unable to be you again

Slice the hand with a blade
Quicken the mind with pain
Shock the cobwebs from their anchor
Awake the craven soul

Starve the comfort from your life
The illusion of safety is a deceiver
Feel the essence of your deep self
Return to true hunger

You will once again be high on air
Satiated by a small taste
Aware of the unlimited magic
Again a visionary of the beyond.

© 2015 Martin H Wilde

Rambling Man

Oh, naive little me
Asking what things you have seen
You’re vulnerable in your head
You’ll scream and you’ll wail till you’re dead

Creatures veiled by night
Following things that aren’t right
And they’re tired and they need to be led
Or you’ll scream and you’ll wail till you’re dead

But give me to a rambling man
Let it always be known that I was who I am

Beaten, battered and cold
My children will live just to grow old
But if I sit here and weep
I’ll be blown over by the slightest of breeze

And the weak need to be led
And the tender I’ll carry to their bed
And it’s a pale and cold affair
I’ll be damned if I’ll be found there

But give me to a rambling man
Let it always be known that I was who I am

It’s funny how the first chords you come to
Are the minor notes that come to serenade you
It’s hard to accept yourself as someone
You don’t desire as someone you don’t want to be

Oh, give me to a rambling man
Let it always be known that I was who I am
Oh, give me to a rambling man
Let it always be known that I was who I am