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Old 03-09-2009, 12:19 PM   #31
hogleg
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The Gunslinger (I)

He came from the west with a cloud at his feet,
Like death on a pale horse as white as a sheet,
He stepped off the beast and down into the street,
And walked up from the south side of town.

His gunslinger’s hat had a wide, blackened brim,
He wore a black vest cut with red leather trim,
He stood long and tall, he was handsome and slim,
And his dead blue eyes scanned all around.

He wore the blank visage of one who’d been hurt,
His dusty coat draped from his neck to the dirt,
Some mended up bullet holes criss-crossed his shirt,
And a cigarette hung from his lips.

His icy cold aura could almost be felt,
Hell’s fires would go out before it would melt,
Cartridges filled up the loops on his belt,
And the big guns hung high on his hips.

He hit the saloon; they knew something was wrong,
The jangling music box died in mid song,
Surprised by this stranger who didn’t belong,
Stood in front of him twenty and four.

The barroom was rank with tobacco and liquor,
They’d seen many draw, but none had been quicker,
Out came the guns from the tan dusty slicker,
As he stood with his back to the door.

Just blood covered walls, where once there were men,
He emptied the guns and reloaded again,
Now twenty, now sixteen, now thirteen, now ten,
Like the angel of death he reached out.

Amidst all the dying, the screaming in pain,
The barroom was dripping with blood and with brains,
And every man touched was another man slain,
In the chorus of gunshots and shouts.

He stepped from the barroom and holstered his guns,
And as he rode off, with his back to the sun,
He urged the pale horse to a three-quarters run;
To the burning hot desert he stole.

And not that it mattered how far he would ride,
And not that he cared how many had died,
For nothing could fill the great hole inside;
Or repair the great tear in his soul.

He’d come from a city, far off to the west,
He’d once had a tin star pinned up on his vest,
As some legends go, he was one of the best
They say nobody knew how he fell,

He’ll ride in and slaughter, then to the next place,
With ice in his veins and a mask for a face,
He’ll kill, he’ll destroy, and he’ll try to outrace
The devil himself into hell.
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Old 03-09-2009, 01:45 PM   #32
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Prayer to The Earth

When first the wind blows
Turn and bow to the east;
With the rising sun bathe,
Take its warmth as a feast.

When next the wind dies
Turn widdershins to the west;
Let the dying sun bless,
Seeing you at your best.

When next the sun dims
Turn again, widdershins to the north;
Feel earth’s pull,
Power all feelings forth.

When next the rising moon,
If in the full;
Widdershins to the south, turn again;
Cleanse your soul with the tides
Take it deep to each vein.

When next you dream
Sail deep through the night;
Mother earth to one side
Deep love to the right.

Feel Earth’s deep rhythm
To the pores of your soul
Helping you through the night;
Keeping you whole.

Look forward the birth,
Of another day.
When first the sun’s rays shine,
Turn widdershins again,
And again.


*************
Misused

[An office where I once worked, as a shift worker, used to be located alongside the harbour. Ladies, young and old, often thin, cold, possibly drug-users, used to frequent the roads in the area starting as early as 5PM, standing at the pavements or sitting on walls no matter what the weather.
Thankfully those roads are now cleared, but probably only to drive these ladies elsewhere.]


Misused for pleasure, not hers.
On roadside cold
she stands, in dress too thin; and haggard looks, too old.

Frost-bitten mite, she looks and hopes
to save her stolen plight, youth long lost.
At cost.

Failed waif legal just, forced mature
‘afore her time, she’s aged
and, in this theft of life, caged.

Joy only for each moment short, the warmth
of body close – or heat
of car. Thrown, then, back to street.

No change each night, she’s
used and misused, no one cares
despite, poor quality of her wares.

Misused for pleasure, not hers.
On roadside cold
she stands too tired; too thin;
too hard and haggard,
ever bought and over-sold.


***************
Quaking Earth

Without a thought the earth did roar;
Two plates once bound
for an age, or more
did slip, and unwound.

Distressed, at ocean deep
Land once level, released, now sundered.
Giants of waves no longer asleep,
Delivered ashore, wild steeds, no mere white horses; we blundered.

Galloping forth, unbridled, wanton, unchecked
All in their path
Were wrecked.
What once was, now no more.

Silence,
Force now spent;
But at deep it continued, defiant cadence.
Until another, rent
shook and earth did scream,
again.
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Old 03-18-2009, 02:38 PM   #33
Lima_dat
English ppl ride potatoe?
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MONSTER ENERGY SHOOTERS

Hell yeah, gonna clean my coffee table
Damn, I'll probably straighten up my desk
I might even make my bed, a little
I probably won't even stop to rest

Take it from me, I'm not caffeine free
I need a little boost, a little jump-start
Give it to me in a little bottle, green
Liquid in my belly, palpitations in my heart

A couple little sips, with so much power
They make my brain sizzle, my neurons
They're fried, dredge my brain in flour
Thermogenic missiles, twelve to a carton

A raging wildebeest on a tight string, seeing
The wilderness, through a thin wash of green
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Old 03-18-2009, 02:47 PM   #34
GeoffC
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"A raging wildebeest on a tight string, seeing
The wilderness, through a thin wash of green "


a superb ending ....
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Old 03-18-2009, 04:23 PM   #35
Lima_dat
English ppl ride potatoe?
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Quote:
Originally Posted by GeoffC View Post
"A raging wildebeest on a tight string, seeing
The wilderness, through a thin wash of green "


a superb ending ....
Thank you.
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Old 03-20-2009, 04:16 PM   #36
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I just posted my first collection here

http://www.mobileread.com/forums/showthread.php?t=42844

Have fun reading them
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Old 04-02-2009, 12:18 PM   #37
Douglas Rhodes
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Two of my poems just published in Breadcrumb Scabs, issue 4. The issue is available in print and in a downloadable .pdf. You can download it here:http://www.breadcrumbscabs.com/
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