"palamino" poems
Snort repticalc and mashed up altoid
Have fun with some friends in God’s portwine stained forehead wrinkle
Imaginary time and poison thumb I like
Natalie rips some Earth nuts from soil
Ripping out the toxins and crackin it open with your her teeth
Clapping laughing and crackin nuts and cookin crumbs in pressure cooker
Bad dreams in your frozen water bed
Damp in the ceiling drip and trickle onto papas
bald spots, plastic mickey mouse cup collecting
ceiling leakage
peanuts and marmite froze over lickin frost
***** wrist grunk trash youre rubbing frolicly on the placid table
I cant believe the glass aint clean
Looking not out a window
But a piece of glass reflecting the city behind me
And my band fall out of place
When the old man sneezes
I get pushed aside because the marching band needs me to move and
Im only so talented
dead Chihuahua smell coming from the basement
a parallel universe where there’s one extra atom
with lana del rey on repeat
and jesus was a comic book character too
knuckles breathing fight stance
contraposto counter position backwards and
upside down rubber band army march
a thin breathing kettle with 0 durability
and a plastic bent tight so it’s white, pink, spotted
palamino dress and champagne skin
the damp gets to me
again again again
fingerless gloves for fingerless tom
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 3:50 PM UTC
He was a brawned and ugly gun-slinger, and he came from the wild west;
He had the names of six dead Texan boys, tattoed on his chest;
His hat was 15 gallons tall, his long-coat midnight black;
He wore his holsters mighty high and he said his name was Jack.
He rode a palamino horse on the day he came to town;
Three deputies were in the street, and he shot those suckers down;
Dismounting by the sheriffs door, he hollered out a cry,
*"Get yer no-good chicken *** outside, today yer gonna die."*
The sheriff boldly stepped outside, a shotgun in his hand,
*"You'd best be coming quiet son, or your life aint worth a ****
Jack tipped his hat and curled his lip, he turned his head and spat,
"You shot my brother, sheriff, and yer gonna pay for that."
The sheriff paused to ponder, then he slowly shook his head,
"Your Jimmy robbed a stagecoach and he left the driver dead."
Jack grimaced at his brother's name, and his hands twitched by his side,
"You can call it how you like", he said, "But I'm gonna have yer hide."
The sheriff put the shotgun down, and they faced off in the street,
His hands were poised above his guns, he was sweating in the heat;
He waited till he saw Jack flinch, and his hands flew lightning fast,
His trusty colts were smoking as they fired their deadly blast.
For a moment they both stood stock still, then Jack fell to the ground,
His face was full of shocked surprise, but he never made a sound;
The sheriff felt a tinge of pain, and he saw his badge was bust;
As the blood came seeping from his chest, he fell into the dust.
The townsfolk still recall the day, when Jack rode into town,
And every year they say a prayer, on the day they both fell down;
They were buried up on old Boot Hill, their graves were side by side;
The sheriff renowned for killing Jack, with the man who took his hide.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 12:11 AM UTC
I have been marked by horses
tied to the saddle as they forded
the Colorado River chest deep
in currents carrying me away
I have disappeard in a cloud
of ponies painted black and white
I shudder at their muscular flanks
they nudge me into the corral
I have cheered as a Palamino
pranced down Main Street
my grandfather grandly on board
beauty integrity his hidden strength
I have wept as a horse has died
unceremoniously carted off
will I find him in my glue
will I force the old man to answer Why
Apr 7, 2023
Apr 7, 2023 at 7:14 PM UTC