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Wandering eyes sought refuge through nothing but a careless whisper
To bring about a new cherished bond neither foresaw
A union in its forging among a rhythmic pairing of drifters
The angel and the outlaw
Both seeking what long had they dreamt
A companion much like them
A soul tested with fire
A heart burned with passion
Forging a path to see if the chance to meet was meant
To be, To become
The soulbird reaching higher
Past the expectations of sheer compassion
Towards the city of light and of love
The Angel and the Outlaw
Building harmonies to whisper through the songs of the dove
blushing prince Jun 2017
A boy wearing a yellow raincoat ***** a silver plastic gun in one hand
and grips the inside of a melted chocolate with the other.
His stance is firm
and poised rendering the expressions of his heroes-or rather his fathers’ figures on the
wall of a studio apartment he visits once a week. All four corners memorized.
He stares now from the bottom of a street.  
He chews bubblegum, the color of his grandmother’s blush or a slapped wrist.
“It takes heart to be mean” he’s told.
For all we know he wants to be the saint and the antagonist but it doesn’t show,
it’s not registered between smirks and spits.
He’s been frozen-food fed since he was weaned off his mother’s milk
and affection.
Sometimes he plays with the snakes in the backyard of the girl he’s in love with
They give him a cigarette and call him lonesome cowboy bill
So the wounds heal and the days grow shorter
The siren of the ice cream truck become a wake-up call
as they turn into the screams of men in blue uniforms
the sugar melts between the warm asphalt and
no one notices a child go missing when the bus drives away
in the kid’s place lies a keychain and a school lunch bag
hope comes in the shape of a old taxi with a skeleton in the driver seat
snakes becoming criminals in the shadows
There’s a ticket for the crossroads but he ends up in Nevada, our charlatan warrior
his girl-child neighbor loses a tooth in the dark and the zipper of her favorite jeans
he doesn’t call and she doesn’t answer
he changes his name and grows scars on his knuckles, he wants to be like the man
in the car commercials, he wants to rid himself of his accent
instead he acquires a taste for cheap alcohol, an asphyxiating penchant for
street powders and scrapes up enough money for soft leather boots that
make a clacking sound when he walks quickly  
He stares now from the bottom of a street and walks up to a payphone. I want to go home; he whispers this into
his wallet. But there’s nothing in there except for phone numbers he doesn’t
recognize and worn midnight shakes.
His hands tremble.
A man wearing a red suede jacket ***** a silver pistol in his hands.
He’s gone back home but it’s different now
the studio apartment has turned into a new casino complex
and his father lives in the cemetery. He brings roses.
He doesn’t feel quite natural in the urgencies of life, this goon hero of ours
His childhood sweetheart wears lacquered nails and has grown a beer belly
he wades in her backyard for a bit,
the ****** in his palms for leaving, for drifting when he could have stayed still
he spits and it evaporates
the snakes are nothing to the
the devil in his eyes
A man wearing a red suede jacket ***** a silver pistol in his hands
and fires
there’s a moment of silence
a bird chirps in the distance
the heat lingers
there’s confusion
and then
just a man
in the corner of a street
with an open mouth
and a crooked
sincerity for
all the things
you have to do
to be lonesome
cowboy
bill
Leslie Ledezma May 2017
Once upon a dawn
the first ever had
I was walking in the summer
with you, hand in hand.

But time came along
delighted in us
separated us
But not in my heart, no.
Neville Johnson May 2017
I got lots of stories
This is my best to tell
I’m a cowpoke by trade
Wrangling at the Triple L
Which is the prime dude ranch
In all these parts so swell
Where the land is filled with plenty
And big trees are sometimes felled

I lead the trail rides
I am here to please
If you like Mother Nature
You’ll never want to leave
One day there came this flower
By the name of Mary Ann
Here from Minnesota after a time in Japan

I was such a shy one
I know horses but not girls
She had to make the first move
When she did, my flag unfurled
Thus began the romance
That is still here today
Mom and Dad left me the Triple L
Now there’s Mary Ann and the babies
You know where this will end
Sometimes it starts and ends at home
I was searching for my first love
She showed up all alone
Together we are altogether
Happy as can be
And this is my favorite one ---
Hope you like this story
Nora Apr 2017
You never missed a mark
Firing right for my heart
Sent the bullet rippling through
My flesh and left me gaping

Whole, i thought i was before
You came along, taking aim
With your charming darts
Darling, I’m ****** I missed you
When I shot up high
insp. by annie oakley (1935)
A brand new sheriff came to town
I'm sure he's not the last
We've had fourteen in the past year
They leave here mighty fast

Some can't stand the pressure
Others end up in boot hill
It ain't easy being Sheriff
Here in Cactus Mill

He was tall, compared to most folks
That's what the undertaker said
"I'm just scouting for the future"
"In case he ends up dead"

He went into his office
Fired both deputies on sight
He said "you wanna get your job back"
"Then, you'll have to do it right"

"I don't hanker to disruptions"
"In the town ... I rule"
"The laws all must be followed"
"Now, boys...it's time for school"

"We're gonna have a meeting"
"You can follow, or can go"
"I'm gonna clean this town up"
"I just thought you both should know"

He'd printed off some flyers
Had them passed out by the men
It was scheduled for the Baptist Church
It was due to start at ten

He cleaned up and got ready
A good impression he would give
Because this man's demeanor
Chose who'd die and who would live

At nine fifteen he left and went
To the church, to say a prayer
He thought it would be empty
But found half the town was there

We waited till the church bells
Chimed ten times ...and he began
"I'm here to be your Sheriff"
"I'll do the best job that I can"

"I don't like injustice"
"Wrong doers...they must pay"
"I like to keep things, well..in house"
"I make decisions in  a day"

"I'm like a judge and jury"
"I hold my own cowboy kind of court"
"I'm like Roy Bean, I guess you'd say"
"It's my town...It is my fort"

"Gunfights, just won't happen"
"If they do, both men are dead"
"One, because he lost it...."
"The other, cause I said"

"Drinking...keep it local"
"Stay inside at the saloon"
"Don't wander the streets at night"
"Standing, howling at the moon"

"You can wear your guns in town"
"But, I don't want to see them out"
"If I do, then you can bet"
"You'll learn fast, what my court is all about"

"Now, coming in, two miles out"
"I saw a sturdy tree"
"The only one who hangs from it"
"Will be decided on....by me"

"Lynchings...not on my watch"
"Rustling....don't you try"
"The rules all must be followed"
"If not....you'll surely die"

"I have a length of rope with me"
"It's been stretched 'bout twenty times"
"Add one more...it's twenty one"
"So, don't commit no crimes"

"I also have two friends right here"
"Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson"
"Don't make them come on out to play"
"If they do , you'll learn your lesson"

"Back at the jail, there is one more"
"A right old sturdy gun"
"If Smith and Wesson do not work"
"Then you'll meet...Remington"

"I hope that you will follow"
"The rules that I lay down"
"Cactus Mill is pretty"
"I like this little town"

"I might be the new Sheriff"
"And I want to be your friend"
"The choice is which one do you want"
"A long life...or early end?"

He shook the preachers hand then
And he walked on out the door
The towns folk sat in silence
You could hear a feather hit the floor

Now, the question....Did this Sheriff
Clean up little Cactus Mill?
Did Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson
Keep his hide out of Boot Hill?
Old Cowboys, forts and shootouts
Black for bad and White for good
With a spinning canvas background
And cactus cutouts made of wood
The desert sits behind them
Fifty yards away at most
The heroes don't ride horses
They sip drinks and sit and boast
About their celluloid adventures
singing songs all dressed in white
While behind them in the background
The stunt men do it right
A canvas background rotates
Through valleys, hills and streams
While the hero rides his deck chair
And the director yells and screams
Central casting fills the tribes out
With Italians, and made up stock
While our hero stops an avalanche
Of fake paper covered rocks
Cardboard Cut out Cactus
And heroes smiling in the sun
Most have never seen a cowpoke
Let alone shot off a gun
But, it's magic when it's finished
the dusters up there on the screen
All the fakery and snake oil
Are all hidden, never seen
The white hats beat the black hats
The hero sings and gets the girl
And the background on the spindle
Is still spinning, watch it whirl
A celluloid adventure
Cowboys no where close to what they were
But..watch the next show for a nickel
And don't forget your spurs!!!
Julie Grenness May 2016
This is western society,
How much is distorted realism?
Talk in sinister sexism,
Casually call criticism,
Typecast fashion femmes,
What about men?
High heels or no,
They'll call you a **!
You can't blame women,
For control mechanisms!
Emotional blackmail,
A world run by males,
We should empower the young,
For their lives in the sun,
When was misogyny begun?
Any real chance of equality,
in our western society?
Feedback welcome.
Kurt Schneider Apr 2016
How much rope?
for the misanthrope
hang em high
theres no hope
like a high plains drifter
what you seek is what you find
within death there is life
within the pen
there is a knife
and it executes
with surgical precision
when you look into his eyes
know that he's the unforgiven.
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