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B Mar 4
Texas is as hot as hell
and looks like it sometimes too
but I can't leave, it's paralyzing,
I love it like I'm dazed and confused.
Know I'd miss the flat green land
and always knowing what comes next
yearning for the shade of the soft, dark pine
crackled leather growing on my neck.
Here, you cannot hide from the sun
it chases you like a bird of prey
yet I have learned to live with it
I rise and I kiss it, never stray.
And I can sit and drink
like I am baptized from the inside out
this is the easy way
to taste freedom in the South.

It takes forever just to get out of this state
stretched as wide as the chasm of my mind
so long a journey from ear to ear
what am I supposed to find?
Left alone with no friend but my thoughts
what terrible company they are.
At least the skies are open here
I can find familiarity with my lone star.

Sometimes people leave,
in a chase of meaning, and perhaps some hope
but they will always come back
unforgivingly pulled by an invisible rope.
I'll let my curiosity wander
but not for too long
Rough cowboy reminds me
where I belong.
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                             One of Texas’ Foundational Documents

Taking an oath by placing one hand
Upon a copy of Lonesome Dove
Is not yet law in our sacred land
But by the Grace of God above…

Someday it might be
Saw an old man down by the riverside, lookin' 'bout half past dead/

Gave him two dollars and a penny, for to get a bottle just to cool his head/

Turned around to hand it back to me,  and I looked at him like he was mad/

Swept his gaze up to my eyes, and he gave a single shake of his head, /

Said "I've been here for a long while, and I'll stay until I'm good and dead,"/

"It's been a many year since I've sat here, and I'll stay 'til my kingdom come, /

I didn't know just what to say to that, so I asked, "Hey, mister, where you from?"/

He took a minute,  thinking 'bout everything,  and I thought he was dead/

Gave the biggest smile I have never seen,  and he turned to me,  and he said:/

"I come from over yonder, where the mountain starts, and the river ends"/

"The first thing I saw was the water; it'll be the last thing I see again, "/

"Yeah,  I came from the water, and if you see a friend of mine, "/

"Tell him he's still got a brother,  who won't let him get left behind..."/
This is meant to be sung, not read.  I appreciate if you feel it. If not,  well... this here is Texas, yeah? Old school.
James Jarrett Jan 28
Ready to take a ride

Even though the roads aren't paved with gold

But I still want to roll

Maybe sit at the table with warrior kings of old

Come on down

Take a ride

To the new Alamo

Toast of the town

Riding alone to the great dining hall

Kings and Cowboys

To tell their tales of war

Shields and spears hanging on the wall

Toast! Toast!

In new Valhalla

At the table of kings and Gods
Carlo C Gomez Jun 2023
Nightfall
Beckoning, unhindered

Lucency
Bending, unbroken

Where the darkness starts
Here is the unseen

Grained out, eyelids closed
In conversations with traffic signs

The spine is quiet in the center
You can't be told it, you must behold it
I drank a glass of Texas tea
And turned into the ghost of a memory
I learned to be so quiet
I watched all my friends forget
I learned how to walk with the silence of the dead
I learned how to keep my thoughts inside my head
I learned to keep my mind open and my mouth shut
But I had no one there to open me back up
I never brush my hair
I forget to fall asleep
Is this what is meands to be me?

Had my first taste of Texas tea
And then their eyes went straight through me
Fill my cup all the way up
And watch my teeth rot
journal entry
Glenn Currier Jun 2022
Perched on the plank seat
of the old wagon
the dusty man gently jiggles the reins
of his reliable old steeds,
they as resolved as he
to reach Archer City
to get booked up.

Larry was there with his white hair
whittling his latest creation,
an overweight manuscript
sure to cause a sensation
no matter its heft.

They sat together talking
til the fireflies flew,
shared stories of books
loves, and good bass hooks,
reaching down to fetch a fresh brew
when they got parched
which was frequent
as they spoke at length
of men like Woodrow and Gus,
how they cussed,
poked, and stretched yarn after yarn.

Larry’s gone to the barn
but the guy who pulled up
in that old wagon
still is reading
and yet yearns
to revisit Texas lakes
to fish bass,
visit the local café,
and eat a passel of pancakes
or a big, tasty chicken fried steak.
This is a light poem begun by letting my imagination roam until I got this image of the wagon pulled by two old horses. I started writing and it just became what it is. Dedicated to my best buddy, Joe, who loves books even more than fishing. He was my pahdnah on Texas lakes way back when. One of his favorite authors is legendary Texas novelist, Larry McMurtry who also owned a bookstore in his hometown of Archer City, Texas.
ShFR May 2022
Schools’, free-ish U.S.
budget cuts GALORE, burnout
Teachers:  in terror   |  are trying
© 2022 by ShFR All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of ShFR
Unpolished Ink May 2022
Hey
Hey gun lobbyists
Another load of children
Just surrendered
Francie Lynch Sep 2021
A new third world ******* emerged.
South of the U.S.
North of Mexico.
On the Gulf Coast.
Flag: Cantor, Black; Field, Black
Bird: Raptor
Flower: Fly Trap
Motto: Your Body Is the Body Politic.
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