our skills..talents..gifts,that we have..
these are our tools..weapons..instruments
and we just want to live..
put into a situation in wich we did not choose our roles..
some of us are the fans and the royalty
they watch people like me do what needs to be done...
people like me..we just want to live
so we use our weapons and do what we have to..
we didnt choose for it to be like this..
we watch the fortunate crowd the seats of this coliseum called life..
and they watch us jump back and forth through shades of color..
they judge us...
but we just want to live
Sunlight blinding him,
Swirling dust choking him.
The bronc gyrating
Nearly throwing him.
Feet braced and pounding,
Pounding the ground.
Jolting his spin,
Up, and again down.
His head jerking,
Daylight beneath him,
Down on the back,
Of the writhing cayuse.
No eight second buzzer.
To call the end of the ride.
Ignore the pain.
Remember the Pride.
Sunfish, slam and jerk,
Hanging on any way he can.
Fighting to win this battle,
Between beast and man.
The brute gathers his muscles,
Leaps over the rail.
Running, running, running,
Like he’s on freedom’s trail.
Sides heaving, legs shaking,
The horse slows to a stop.
The cowboy turns him homeward,
And says, “Now you learn to walk.”
The Spade Ranch had the beef issue
For the Indians at Pine Ridge
And each time that he's take the herd
Mollie'd go along with Sid.
The Spade had been good to them
By now they numbered four,
The time had come for them to find
A ranch that was their own.
They took a homestead east of Gordon,
At last they had their chance.
And when Sid's brother joined them it became
The Irwin Brothers Ranch.
They later leased the Ross Ranch
And here was born child three,
A sickly little daughter
So delicate, so wee.
To complete their preemption
A homestead they did seek.
Southeast of Gordon near Lavaca,
Down by the Ol' Pole Creek.
Here a daughter and a son
Were added to their life,
Then fire struck and they were left
With hearts full of Strife.
For years they wandered here and there
Seeking out each lead
A hope or promise was all they asked
For their ailing daughters need.
Though the years were fruitless
And no cure was found
Their last child was born to them
A daugher in health abound.
Time took it's toil a short seventeen
Their daughter would laugh no more,
So many years they searched in vain,
And now their hearts were sore.
The long years over, at last they came home
To the hills so sandy and green
On a ranch south of Cody, down by the Niobrara,
So sparkling fresh and clean.
Sid first lost a son,
Then two weeks later his own Mollie too,
With two such blows he hung up his spurs
His cowboy days were through.
His life wasn't easy thought it was long
He died at age ninety-three
In the same sandy hills that a lad of fourteen
Once said, "You'll be home to me."
This poem first appeared in the Centennial Edition of the
Nebraska Cattleman Magazine.
Looked to see, and correlated datats, and
When the uk women of the higher education status, sed
Highest rates of alcohol consumption in the world
And then the Oman, womens page said they are also
High in educational achievements
My still working liver, cringed
You, government sadistic, who suggest increasing taxes by increasing prices
Oh. Jah, great idea.
Can’t you see, or don’t you care, or are you as punched in the scrotum as me
That sees the bliss the world is, and the mess of all those years of poor-me
N’ theres Zambia, with connected links to web pages, months or years out of date
And a third of national income, still owing in interest only payments, that never
And theres uk, with its 5th richest world country status, and 1, 000000000000,
quids of personal individual debt…. Owed to the systems.
If I gave up, and tried to drink myself to death. Would it help.
When we sed, I love you, with a punch in the privates, and a lisping kiss of deadly
What psychological warfare were we perpetrating
You proved you think
You proved you think I shud eat chocolate, good for my iron intake, bad for my
Andd the lonely hearts column, that mooves itself to sleep each night, that the
Let it dance
Drys, like a broken fist fuuned punt
Oh. Sorry darling…. Was it you I was to attend to
And daarling… shorely… you find my broken dreams arousing
Shurelly, you grin in private joy, at the effect of your masterful
And when you finally realise that dominate the earth
Means look after it
And divided means respect individual unique perspective
And mourning means, new day
Will the skin you whip with your master bait eronary, credentials
Suffice,… with its small pinprinkles and the tongue of the dreaded spite
Woven into the blanket, that next you nurture, to k ill the weak members of this
So you can prove you love.
All breathing is action.
All action is a cross stick
All sticks are carrots
o. please. Master. Please proove.
There is choice.
after playing ball the contestants make there way to the draw wall.
Felling sore from the ride before. no one knows whats in store.
Justin took quite the fall, carson gets his horse out of her stall.
they check in with the doc. and he suggests they stretch and go for a walk.
as kevin rolls in, no one knows where hes been
Gene is having a really great year, as he celeabrates with yet another beer
wes made the top five, hes starting to feel the vibe.
coch kelly, always clean and proper, was once quite the show stopper
the team sits around the table for lunch, as the pep tlak goes out to the bunch
tonight is the last of the season, as kevin pops a choclate reisen.
some will move on, some will stay, its not the ride its livin for the day
Rodeo is not about being the best, its about your lifes quest
two hours before the show and just going with the flow
wes and carson play with there ropes, as kevin looks for the saddle soap
gene checks his cinch, as justin pulls some snuff and takes a pinch.
kelly is busy shaking hands, as people start to fill the stands.
grand entry rolls in and the energy is felt throughout the pen
the anthem is played and the prayer is sent, who will make the rent
the hosres are loaded and ready to go, with the intry of funny man joe
grand entry has left and the cowboy is set, with the swing from the gate there off
like a jet.
Dreams are made and dreams will fade with every entry fee paid.
gene gets set his eyes are cold and hes destined to have a buckle full of gold
carson wrestles his steer and blows a knee, the crowd rises to see
justin slides up on his rope and feels just right, for hell make the ride of his life
The show is over and the stock is fed we are thankfull noone is dead
reality is set and buckles are handed out, for some this is what their life is about
for some college rodeo has come to an end, but there is an open rodeo around
sad but true this season is over, but not to worry, its just another beginning for
OK, maybe he is right. Maybe a cowboy he's not. He is a mechanic, a
pediatrician, an obstetrician, a veterinary, a plumber (wells), a house keeper
(stalls), a blacksmith, a dietician, a truck driver, a farmer (crops), a carpenter
(corrals and maternity wards), a construction worker, a landscaper (fencing), a
teacher, a road grader (keeps roads oven year round), a hunter (hunts stray
critters), a trapper (beavers to keep our water ways open and skunks to keep our
sinuses working), a cowboy (cattle work), a welder, a rancher, a ranch hand, a
cowhand and a_______ I give, I give. He is a Jack of all Trades, but since his
name is Billy I can’t go around calling him Jack, so he will always be my cowboy
to me. P. S. he is definitely not a modern cowboy. No three wheelers, no
pickups, no motorcycles. He did his cattle work by horseback.
A cold-blooded killer or a kind hearted man,
Searching for justice with a gun in his hand
He escaped many times indeed he did,
He is known as Billy the Kid
A charming young man, with a heart-breaking smile,
He rode across the desert, he rode many miles.
He is known for the things that he did,
He is known as Billy the Kid
Chased by lawmen, bandits, and thieves,
Billy is dead now and many are relieved,
Shot by Pat Garrrett, his so-called friend
Murdered and betrayed, enemies in the end
Could history be wrong?
A lie have been told,
Could Billy have died at ninety years old,
In a small town in Texas, a place called Hico
Brushy Bill Roberts,
A man growing old,
Stories of his life,
Many have been told
He claims a life of killing,
A life of revenge,
He wants to be pardoned,
He is nearing his end
"Do you have any proof that you are who you say?"
Does Billy the Kid still live today?
These questions were asked,
By an attorney of law,
Then Brushy revealed his scars,
Many wounds he saw
The truth has been told,
It's finally out,
Was Brushy "The Kid?"
I have no doubt