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 Oct 2017
G Rog Rogers

My Grand Dad was a Cowboy
They called Him Cowboy Bill
But to me He was Grand Dad
A cowboy for real

He lived His life
In a pickup truck
as He'd go from sale to sale
Buy them calves
when they's almost dead
Then He'd raise 'em
back to health

Cause He's a Cowboy for real
Cowboy and He always will
be a Cowboy still
He's a Cowboy
Cowboy for real

Thought a time
He would settle down
with a woman sweet and fair
Wasn't long and He was
on the road
and no one had to tell her

He's a Cowboy for real
He's a Cowboy and
He always will
be a Cowboy still
He's a Cowboy for real

Ridin' in to Abilene
Boots were shined
Hat was steamed
Thought He'd stop in
at the sale awhile
Talk with some
good ole' boy's He knows

Sittin' down and talking stock
Lookin' mainly toward
the bargain lot
Thinkin' maybe
He'd sit a spell
when He smiled
and grabbed His heart

Adios  He thought
and said good-bye
Mounted up
and took His final ride
The Lord He said
Cowboy come on home
The Cowboy He be ridin' on

Cause He's a Cowboy for real
Cowboy and He always will
be a Cowboy still
He's a Cowboy for real
and He always will


Country Tune

 Sep 2017
Michael Marchese
The realist idealist
Marxist on acid
Unruliest Julius
Social class bashin'
Hash waxin' Jet Jackson
I'm back in it, packin'
My 9 days of fastin'
And rockin' my Rama
Like Lama of Dalai
To Burma, Malawi
I'm thirsty for Mali
Diwali to light up in spite of the plight
From the right, I'm so left that it's theft
All I own is the night
I been deep in the jungles
Apocalypse Now
Reading little red books
About chairmen named Mao
But like Gandhi's ahimsa I'm teaching them how
We make no man's land peace
From they cash Curacao

Where I see water everywhere
But not a drop to drink
Just hydro-frackin' krakens
They're unleashing on your kitchen sink
And still the rising Apartheid
Brings death before the dioxide
Insecticidal suicide
And herbicidal genocide
Colombia? That's classified
It's why I build my ark from FARC
Embarking on my Narcos kick
A fix fit for a Bolshevik
For now my journey never ends
Until I cure this homesickness
"Fascism is capitalism in decay."
-Vladimir Lenin
 Sep 2017
Poetic T
Slightly collecting on the singular
lingering moments before I was
able to pause and watch them bleed.
screaming verses muffled with duct-tape
haemorrhaging. They were my toys of
every pain I had suffered. But I bled
random thoughts on their flesh and sighed.
Acrostic Slasher ...
 Aug 2017
Devin Ortiz
The crusader drew back the hammer
Dangerous eyes looking past the barrel
To the fiendish man, broken before him
Behind the bruises, behind the mess
Helpless, his father lay before him
His father, the sinner, the fiend

He smiled a wicked but honest smile
Down towards the old man
Words would do no good,
For they've all been said and done.
The crusader was full of reason
Full of divine purifying resolve

But the devil, preparing his forked tongue
Between the sugar words and curses
Sought to utter some final saving grace.
Pulling back, squeezing with satisfaction
The lightning drew across the room
Thunder split the sinner right in two

Deep breathes, soothing his soul
The crusader inhaled the scent of death.
Too long it had been, far too long.
That such a fiend creeped upon the earth.
No goodbyes, no heartaches, just death.
He withdrew himself into the night,
Off to continue the reaping.
 Aug 2017
Leory Santana dawn
They ate of my flesh while I stared in their eyes that cried for a brief moment. Their tears were of happiness; nothing more than my defeat. They flossed their teeth with my fragile bones feeling a thirst for my blood.
I've begged them to allow me to rest
They continued to rip me in pieces and put me back together to do it all over again and again.
They grinned and danced in my pain
God didn't come
God didn't see
They knew God wouldn't look too far right or left to find me in the scattered limbs

By: Leory Santana Dawn
I'm not finish
 Aug 2017
David Noonan
the weeping that makes me half a man
the rage that divides me greater still
are these the created or the original sin
that leads me down to the drunkards well
there it was that i had found you again
your hair changed, your dress less pretty
life lived through a jukebox country song
that preached no rights or saw no wrong

our greatest hour the one so fast to pass
leaving moments of perpetual memory
seeks a home for a weary vagabond soul
left grasping a belief for something more
full of regrets sustaining broken promises
time waits for no one and no one for us
Sunday comes down, the night still young
dance with me now jukebox country song
 Aug 2017
Lazhar Bouazzi
Is the
Act of giving shape
To chaos -
An affair of alchemy,
Like turning sweat
Into drops of
(c) LazharBouazzi
 Aug 2017
oliver g wilikers
how by chewing wildflowers
til your tongue turns numb because
you're enamoured by the way it sounds
when you slur your words.
your gums turn black and
when you smile all i see is
pips and petals stuck between your teeth.
oh you're so pretty.
you're a real loose cannon, tendrils
tethered to every orifice and
every breath smells a little more
like the grim reaper is sleeping
in your mouth. i can see he's
making quick work of your gums.
but it works.
better that than he move into your chest
or burrow any further
in your head.
 Aug 2017
Hadrian Veska
Her fate was far worse than death
Fused to that ancient tree
An inseparable mass of delicate skin
And fragile bones

Like a macabre piece of art
Was she displayed in those dark woods
Her exposed ribcage showing
A bright red heart

Eternally pumping blood
Into a pool beneath the tree
Her skin pale white
And a sly smile on her face

Her deep green eyes
Enjoying every moment of her torture
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