When hard times come they sit a spell,
Like kin folk come to stay
A-packin' troubles, pets an' kids
That always get ‘n your way.
It's drought an' flood, an' flood an' drought,
There ain't much in-between.
You work like hell to make ’em good,
But still they’re sorta lean.
The ranch went under late last year,
The drought got mighty tough.
The boss held-out a long, long time,
But finally said, "enough!"
So here I am dispatchin’ cops
An’ watchin’ felons sleep,
In Junction, at the county jail,
A job I’ll prob’ly keep.
The wife, she works at Leisure Lodge,
Where older people stay,
A-makin’ beds an’ moppin’ floors
To earn some ‘extra’ pay.
Though “extra pay‘s” the term I used,
It goes to payin’ rent,
An’ after all the bills are paid,
We wonder where it went.
We hocked my saddle, guns an' chaps,
An' then our weddin' rings;
Then when we couldn't pay the loan,
They sold the 'dad-blamed' things.
We felt real bad a day or two
But then we let it go,
Cause it got Christmas for the kids
When money got real slow.
When hard times come they sit a spell,
Don't matter who you are;
They'll cost ya things you've set aside,
An' clean your cookie jar.
You'll loose some sleep an' worry some,
Won't pay to moan an' groan;
But hang on to your happiness,
They'll finally leave ya 'lone.
Zuzuni on the badlands
Montana's muddy badlands spread for thirty seven miles
along a cleft of sandstone bed, eroded years before;
the chestnut paced upon the bare of grass and well worn aisles
and I wore two new Navy Colts, of gauging forty four
beneath the noon light that defines but also eyes beguiles.
An anchorite, some years ago, upon the ridge of Grapes
where monasteries in the clouds are reaching out to God,
I learned to draw and shoot amidst the fog's white waving drapes
and prayed til the time was ripe t' abandon this abode,
cause solitude was molding deeds, constringing, thus, escapes.
I saw them waiting on the trail; three bandits stood apart:
Coyote Chit, Cheesecake Labif and Mambo-Jumbo Crock
with cross-tied low their pistols stood, assumptive and upstart
bemocking fools who patented their e'er noetic block
that teachers, tho', could not explain; not even wise Descartes!
My shots intended at their guns, the hoisted hammers broke;
I ordered them to start the dance that turns the clouds to rain
the land was in compelling need, as turf and plants evoked
the sympathy of Heavens that magnanimous ordained
the good ol' boys (and volunteers) to dance the rain's refrain.
Coyote was allowed to dance a prominent gavotte
meanwhile Labif's romantic soul preferred a marigold
but Crock's mazurka had untied the nimbus' Gordian knot
and rain began to pour upon those who the skies extolled
heroic men were meant to be, defining, thus, a blot.
Zuzuni, the Algonquin chief, had noticed this ordeal
and marveled at the outlaws forms, that caused the skies to rain
in order so, to buy the fools he offered a good deal
fourteen strong horses for each man, who danced to ascertain
that rains returned upon the slopes and also on the plains.
© 2014-10-15, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
Contest Name: Sketch a Character
Sponsor: Gautami Phookan
Out of the west, amide a beautiful sunrise… came a pie eyed son of a gun.
Looking for Armadilly Billy the Sling Shot Kidster… water gun… in hand.
He rode a very slow plug, an inchworm called ‘Giddy-Up-You-Lazy-Thing’.
Said he was seeking, Billy the outlaw, who had shot his brother in the leg.
But we all knew Billy hadn’t done it, cause he simply, shook his… head… no…
Sure he’d shot a few snakes in the grass, in the range war, way up North, long ago.
But he’d known everybody there; this one, was only here, to try to build a name.
Pie Eyed Spittoon the Rodeo Clown, was looking to earn some respect, with fame.
Now, you don’t find respect by drawing a water gun; it’s always a loosing game.
So we told him, Billy had moseyed on, somewhere way down south, late last May.
To our surprise, he sat down and cried; there was only so much he could take, to face.
Apparently, guy ladybugs don’t get much respect, especially in a fancy, rodeo place.
At that, Miss Kitty Purrfect, sashayed into place, right in front of Pie Eyed Spittoon.
She ask him what his real name was… He answered, it was Wilber Wash Number Two.
Taking him by the hand, she deftly led him off, giving him ideas for a great bar room.
A fancy pants Troll Lake Town sarsaparilla saloon, where flowers would be in bloom.
They would even serve High Tea with scones and crumpets, of course, in a back room.
But, there'd be a tin pan ally, piano in great use, in that bar area, up front, real soon.
Miss Kitty Purrfect would sit on top to sing a tune or two, as Mr. Spittoon kept the bar.
She would be his partner, to help liven up the crowd, and keep them from straying far.
The Muskrat Gang could clean up in their spare time when their other work was done.
Silk worms would be ordered from China Town, to make fancy drapes, in the bargain.
And Spittoon could serve Sarsaparilla, as Billy controlled the, sometimes-rowdy crowd.
All got what they’d wanted, without a single shot being fired, smart, don’t you think?
Troll Lake town was growing, at a rapid rate, but all were sure, it would be OK.
Armadilly Billy the Slingshot Kidster, was voted, as the sheriff in Town, that day.
And with Miss Kitty Purrfect by Billy’s side, a new era had definitely, begun in town.
Not to mention Mr. Spittoon, who enjoyed the respect, as barman, in our boomtown.
The moral my friend… is violence never wins… always use your head instead!
Making friends, will always serve you better, than making enemy’s… it’s often said!
Up in Colorado, in the forests of Pikes Peak
A cranky critters conference was held just this week
It was led by a mouse, 3 legs, whiskerless & without tail
"Against a common foe!" He said "We must Unite! We must prevail!"
He hobbled out to the edge of the woods & pointed toward a house
In that house, I once lived a good life, a young & healthy mouse
Then one day the rancher's wife decided she'd had enough
I will say she is a worthy adversary, Mercy she was tough!
He looked around at all the critters, weasel, skunk & squirrel
& said "I hate to admit it but I was bested by a girl!"
Its true, I escaped alive but she got her trophies, too
For I left my tail, paws & whiskers stuck there in her glue
The squirrel spoke up in a streetwise Brando voice
I'll accept the challenge! For this mission, I am the best choice!
I know this lady well, having enjoyed seeds & nuts out on her deck
I am not afraid of her & will show her we deserve respect
So the squirrel plotted & waited until the time was right
He saw his chance & took it while in the birds she took delight
He scampered up a pine tree & scurried out on to a branch
While she was distracted with a phone call & a pretty bird, he seized his chance
He took a flying leap, landing square on her blond head
Taking great delight in her squeals of surprise & dread
He then let loose with a torrent of the defecation sort
"That's for all the dead & walking wounded!" was his parting retort
The moral of this story, for one there must be
Is be mindful of avenging squirrels when you sit beneath a tree
Son, would you tuck in your shirttail
Was something often heard
At home when I was a youngster
With harsher action inferred
My otherwise kind hearted Mother
Had shirttails as a pet peeve
That boys were just naturally sloppy
Was something she wouldn't believe
It didn't seem to matter
That action was big in my plan
Like building a fort or a tree house
Or a game of kick the can
As long as my trouser tops covered
The tail of my shirt complete
Dear Mother seemed quite contented
And smiled at her son so neat
But catching fly balls and gophers
Are surely not meant I'd say
For shirttails tucked in and tidy
From the start to the end of a day
Well now that I'm older I smile
Each time I check my belt line
And straighten my shirt without thinking
Like a habit that's learned over time
Some Mothers have talent for teaching
Their lessons to boys of school age
Who think that neatness can't happen
'Till life's reached a much older stage
You see my reflex for shirttails
Was taught by a Mother with grace
Who sewed to each shirttail bottom
Two inches of fancy pink lace!
Too much Viagra and beer.
Too much Viagra and beer.
My wife was out of town,
I hit every club around.
Each time I'd hope to find
A horny woman here.
Country Bob's was the last club that was open.
Near blind drunk and horny, but I was still hopin'.
A pretty woman gave me a glance,
Smiled and said, "Nice pants.
Honey, I'm ridin' if you're ropin'."
A few hours later, I was in a Helluva mess
She's still ridin' hard and screamin', "God, this is the best!"
I was dizzy and light-headed. I had pains in my chest,
But she wouldn't stop long enough to call EMS.
When I came to, I was home in my own bed,
Next to my lovely wife; and this is what she said:
"I picked you up at Country Bob's, my dear;
And there's gonna be some changes around here.
You were fantastic last night;
So, I only think its right
If I supplement your diet
With Viagra and beer."
Viagra and beer. Viagra and beer.
She treats me like a king,
Says I make her body sing;
So, I'm happy on my diet of Viagra and beer.
Yes, I'm happy on my diet of Viagra and beer.
Submitted by: Buzz O'Words
Long miles of tedious journey,
Missing my darling honey.
Travelling impatiently, spend thousands of
Hope god will bless me with ma lucky soul
at this season.
Equatorial island exploring its amazed
beauty, glittering with immersed grasses.
Wrapped by queens necklaced small lake
aside, at the outskirts of dalhousie.
My heart dwelled into its god gifted
When the night lime lighted,
Millions of stars scattered around
As if its was a wondering boon.
Lucky enough for landing with my next
Eagerly waiting for my heart chaser,
Girl passed near by, few seconds later.
Flaming beauty mould my soul.
Topped with innocence, ready for my
Her chic appearance,
Her innocent appeal.
Strucking heart raised with high beats..
Awaited for our romantic date in ma
Frequency of our nature matched.
Stolen Eyes of each other were catched.
Strings of our heart whistled
Everything had happened miraclelously.
I rebelled the three precious words of
Accepting my red rose, She blushed.
At event of recreation, campfire were
Nobody around us, private moments
between we two spotlighted.
Playing guitar, she sinked with every beat,
That's the coincidence our eyes again
Hand in hand danced with the soothing
Sparkling smile on her face beamed.
Getting closer to her, because of her
Expecting the light around us to be dim.
The romantic moment again came,
Flaps of my soul opened for the grand
She looked too pretty in her gold lame
My heart awarded her an order of chivalry.
Don't know who are you, but baby you are
the one, I am in love.
You live in me, You are my love
I feel you in my heart,
You are my world, I just cant stay apart!
Please don't hesitate, please don't lie,
Whatever you feel, my heart can buy!
Angel of life, Its just you.
Completeness in life can't be without you.
Wanna Carry journey happily together.
Tickling nose, Queenly beauty of my white
Hold my senses, its caught by you.
Don't let be just memories, wanna feel
ecstasy of love towards you forever.
Promising to hold your hand throughout
life in this lovely weather.
Will be your shadow, because your pain
will be mine.
Its destiny that our heart clicked a
snapshot of each other's soul.
Stopping by my question, Will you marry
me, my Kindred Soul?
Hillbilly hand jive is the name of this here song.
So why don't y'all come out here and help us sing along?
Yippy ki yay and howdy do.
Y'all put yer arms right in and I'll show you what to do.
First take yer finger and stick it up yer nose.
Grab yerself a juicy one and stick it tween yer toes.
Raise up them there arms and swing em in the air
then run yer fingers right through that greasy hair.
Hillbilly hand jive is what yer doin now.
Run over yonder and tip that sleepin cow.
Now that were havin fun lets run around the farm.
Jump into the water hole and let that catfish bite yer arm.
Now lets go watch some Nascar and drink us lots of beer.
Sneak up on yer better half and slap her on the rear.
Hillbilly hand jive is what we want to do
so while yer up there dancin, throw me that there brew.
Hey, you all new cowboy brides
Listen, what my cowboy is…..
There are no Pizza Huts nearby
So got to cook in great quantities.
As there are no perfect cowboy jobs
Don’t be surprised if to live in a new ranch
Maybe your third house in one year.
When he returns home listen to his tales
Of every drive, every bronco ride
And every spree he has undergone.
If you are tired of this moving life
Buy heavy and costly furniture and
A piano or a cabinet and of course
Have a couple of kids to weigh him down.
Take care that his horse never stumbles
Spurs never rust, guts never grumble
Boots never pinch and stays out of jail!
Prefer the company of cowboys
Because they have not been educated
Sufficiently to reason incorrectly.
April 20, 2014
Form Free Verse
Fifth Place win
Contest:Howdy Pard by Shadow Hamilton
strap on those six-guns
throw on the saddle
and ten-gallon cowboy hat
mount him slowly
and keep it steady
speed it up
pull back hard
and ride him rough
Well, Finn and Mc Gee
Were riding along
Headed back home
When something looked wrong
So, Finn off his horse
Now looked all around
He said, "We are lost
But, there's something we've found"
"Look at this massive
Whole in this plain
We'll never get home
This is insane"
"A canyon like this
What an unlucky find
We can't ride around it
We haven't the time"
"And we can't ride down through it
There isn't a way
If even there was
We'd be dead in a day"
So Mc Gee very calmly
with shovel in hand
Said "Well, we'd better get crackin'
And fill it with sand"
< Now hold on there Tex !
Let me get dressed !
Let me saddle up my horse
To trollop around this Halloween course
Got on my chaps
My spurs and cowboy hat
Replica's of forty five's
Riding on my hips very high
With lasso in my hand
This little cowboy has a plan
So all you ghost and goblins
It's candies bounty I'll be coming an robbing
And I'll be taking loot for mummy
And for my daddy who has a bigger tummy
Happy Halloween To All
Especially little tikes who are so cute and small
Halloween Costume Contest
Chirpin Tom was quite a feller
He was always straight and true
He could sing a song and make the cowboys moo.
No, he wasn't much for fightin'
And his gun was seized with rust
But when crossed there had been bodies in the dust.
No, old Chirpin wasn't perfect
But he'd sing the cows to sleep
He could sing so good the flies would up and weep.
Chirpin's horse was Double Thunder
He was truly quite a ride
He would even stand beside a post untied.
So when Tom had finished singin'
He would mount and ride away
Down the trail until he found a place to stay;
Then he'd do some cowboy singin'
And he'd pray a cowboy prayer
And he'd sleep with all the cattle round him there.
Then when Tom would stay no longer
He would turn his horse's tail
And he'd travel down the hot and dusty trail,
Till he found a bunch of cowboys
Cookin' up some cowboy stew
Then he'd say, "Hey boys, how 'bout a song or two?"
A Cowboy Is
There once was a cowboy name Joe.
Who took his girlfriend to a show.
The lights were turned low.
Her lips he did blow.
It just goes to show Joe did go!!!!
*For Tirzah Conway's "A Cowboy Is" contest
heres how i see it
and heres how it is
living in this world where half of it is advanced
with indoor plumbing
and a huge chunk of the globe is not
part of the world still has a hole in the floor for a toilet
and we say ignorance is bliss
oh funny funny man on the moon
the joke you really meant in the Hollywood basement
of one giant step for man
and one leap for mankind
Have we not clued in yet?
Do we not live blind leading the blind?
Am i the only enlightened who realizes
that we were in space probably 70 years before we made it public to the world
and Nasa is full of it
oh funny funny funny man on the moon
why is society so gullible to think
that the governments technology hits the mainstream market
before they use it for years and perfect it and work out all the bugs
and then hands us something that just looks faulty
and we fall for it hook line and sinker
give me a moment
funny funny funny us
half the world buries their waste
and we flush it away
half the world has technology and half of it is in the stone age
and yet we seem to think
that whoever invents these things has no ties
or affiliation to putting us under their thumb
i mean come on do the math
they landed on the moon
how they tell you they send sattelites into space is a truth within alie
they made up 50 years ago
and were falling for it today
let me play
i get it
society is dumb
I'll write something yesterday
say i wrote it today
no one will know what to believe
I'll even put a cowboy hat on
I'm sure those cowboy western movies
they had just as many cameras and cellphones
but didn't release them in the market
consider yourself a fool
if you don't think they don't have something in their pocket full of tricks they are
working on right now
they're going to sell to the future
and no one gets the famous joke
the man on the moon told to the mensa geniuses
but a hush fell over the crowd
and I'm sure there was consequences for laughing
and chances are even they were blinded by the bling
life and blind leading the blind
such an easy concept to grasp
and man on the moon
your a funny funny funny man!
One time in the past, I saw a picture of me.
I was a child; I wore a cowboy suit with cowboy hat.
I don’t remember this, but it was still part of history.
There was only, one other time, other than that.
This time I wore, baseball cap and helmet at bat,
I knew early on, my head would be bare eternally.
For my head was too big and also to flat,
Believe me whoever I asked, would definitely agree.
The thing I would use a hat for, would be to swat a gnat.
So I really have no favorite, definitely not, a Top Hat.
Sponsor Carol Brown
Contest Name My Favorite Hat or Bonnet
Her grand gals axed her one time
How did hers ever gits a date
Her done went ta a all gals school
Theys wudn't let no boys in
Ut makes me's won ders
Yep ut sure do
Theys at that datin age
And figgers theys
Finds oot if's hers was a good
Gal er bad.
Her tells um
Theys jist bet er be's
Good gals er else.
Youse cain't gits a good
Feller if'n youse any thin else
An than her tells um it were no never mine
Her knowed where her cowboy her'd fine
Her went ta school
An gots her job
Near tha H bar T rench
What were a real sandy spot
Tha lan' lady her 'vites the cowboy
frum up tha nex rench
Ta comes down fer a little supper
An ta meets tha new gal what are gonna teach.
Theys played cards er sumthin' or so her seys
An when him are ready ta leaves
Her axed him if'n he's cuds
Puts her saddle in the barn, please
Sunday her's was over ta tha school
Gittin ready fer ta teaches tha golden rule
When him done stops an tells her
He are a goin ta the ropin club
An seys theys room in tha car fer her.
Her seys hers will goes with um
But hers did unt axes
What kinda drinks theys serves
Et this club.
Him were a proud cowboy feller were he
His job were m-portatnt youse see
An sum times if'n he gits his work all done
Him jist mights calls her on tha tel-e-phone.
When Thanksgivin comed round
Her wents ta Kansas an seed her folks
An him wents ta Wyomin ta looks at a rench
When him did comed back
Him stops fer a spell
An when him are goin ta leaves
Her walks him oot ta the car ya sees
An tells him hers goin ta a weddin
On June Nine teenth
Him jist looks at her an seys
If'n him are supposed ta be's....
Well youse knows tha rest
Her done it
They's war forty seven years an two weeks
When her gits done tellin her grand gals
Theys mouths was open big
An her tells um
Yep her did
That's how youse
Comed ta be's.
Her telled Billy what her telled tha gals
An him seys, with a spark in his eye
Him were a weldin
"I's never did axed youse ta marrys me,
Youse knows youse er right."
Now when Billy looks down et her from aboves
Her kisses hers wedding ring with love
Cause on theys wedding bands youse'll finds
Tha stars an tha moon fer all times
I's mad that lan lady did unt vites me's down
Then maybe's them gran gals wud a
X.......John e Cowpoke
or tired love?
and weak games
Look at you!
Your such a lame!
Me cry?! Ha! Not no more!
Five point five years
What a joke?!
All you do is lie
Keep smoking your life away!
Wake up before its too late!
Before this love turns into hate!
Your too old to act this way!
Your too comfortable
You cant stay!
In my life!
In my way!
Goodbye to you!!!
I was heading to the bunkhouse, after a wild night on the town
dancing & romancing & one too many round
Back in my wild & woolly days, one more rowdy Saturday night
full of cheap beer & whiskey & the necessary fight
I set Ol' Gus on auto pilot, he knew the way back to the spread
And I set to fighting with those rotgut demons dancing in my head
We were getting pretty close to home, so I eased up on the bit
when all of a sudden that dang horse he up & quit
His ears were all pricked forward, listening quite intense
I caught a drift of what might pass for music, somewhere beyond the fence
It took a lot of persuading, cussing & cajoling
but I got ol' Gus headed for all the caterwauling
the sound got more peculiar as we crested the hill
the memory of what I saw that moonlit night stays with me still
for I had stumbled on a peculiar party, hosted by a peg leg dog
and there was a one eyed pole cat doing comedic monologue
A Blueberry Roan soon took the stage, singing Motley Crue
I swear I saw a big ol' ornery hog with a "born to squeal" tattoo
There were bulls & Heifers dancing, I couldn't believe my eyes
why those bovine wore spikes and body piercings, in places utterly unwise
There where horses with mohawk hairdos head banging to the song
I swear to you, Ol' Gus, he began to sway & sing along
Now I know what you're thinking & I most heartily agree
it was the moon & wind playing tricks, along with rotgut whiskey
You city folks can keep your pink elephants parading in tutus
for this cowboy was shown the light by a Roan in blue suede shoes
I gave up hell raising & carousing, said so long to the honky-tonk life
Happy now to stick to ranching & dancing under the moon with my wife
But every now & again, when the wind blows & the moon is shining bright
I swear I can hear the livestock laughing & head banging through the night
"I should have been a cowboy"
Toby Keith sings in his song;
I should have been a cowboy
breaking horses all too strong...
I could have been a cowboy
sitting high up in the saddle,
but my job wouldn't be easy
since I have to tend to cattle...
I would have been a cowboy
if I was just one foot taller,
but those jeans aren't made
for someone fatter and smaller...
I might have been a cowboy
if I had lived out in the dust,
but I was born in the East
and stayed to watch it rust...
Alas, I never became a cowboy -
not sitting high, not very strong;
but I do wear my cowboy boots
whenever I sing with Toby's song.
For "A Cowboy Is" contest sponsored by Tirzah Conway.
Not all them ol’ time cowpokes
Wore them tight blue jeans, of course—
Most wore hot ol’ striped dress pants
Of thick cotton that was coarse.
It was Levi that came ‘round
To cover up our backside—
So we didn’t bust britches
When we went to take a ride.
Now they still got stove pipe legs
And jeans that is loose fittin’—
Even them short baggy drawers
That brings a poke to spittin’!
And we got them in colors—
Some that is downright dern crass—
But they all done do their job,
Hidin’ rears of lad and lass.
And though it seems that cowboys
Are now seldom in the norm—
You can bet your jean bottom
They wear that cowboy uniform!
And if I do go senile
And I’m clearly in decline—
Don’t bury me in dress pants—
I want jeans on my ol’ behind!
She hails from San Antonio
In the great state of Texas
And there is something you should know:
She is not just a cowgirl
She is a walking party
She can chug drinks like Jack Daniels,
Crown Royal, Jim Beam and Bacardi
She loves the Country Music
Of Jack Ingram, Pat Green,
And the king himself George Strait
Every guy that takes one glance at her
Wants her to be their next date
They love the way she walks
In those tight Wrangler jeans and her white cowboy hat
She is an absolute fox
I wish I had the courage
To ask her out
But she is way out of my league
There is no doubt
She is so hot and Texas trouble
Funny Story and unfortunately true. When I was in Prison at Pelican Bay State prison in Crescent City, Ca., one of the ways I made money or "cantene" as it was called was poetry of sorts.. I was more or less the hallmark kinda person. Writing stuff for anyone that asked and especially when they paid. I was asked to write a poem about having a pocket full of rocks. I had made the mistake of boasting that I could come up with something at least with a beginning, middle and end about anything.....anything ..........You read this and you will see how wrong I was.....or was I?
"Pocket Full of Rocks"
I had a brand new pick up truck.
A big wide screen T.V.
A house up on the hillside
beneath the shade of and old Oak Tree.
I once wore some fancy clothes.
All around the world I'd roam.
Now all I've got is what you see.
Flat broke and all alone.
I was known at every bank in town.
Had more cash than I thought I'd spend.
Both A Master Card and Visa
whose limits had no end.
I had women everywhere I turned.
More love than you could know.
Then I went and blew it all.
Where did it all go?
Now with patches on my blue jeans
and holes in both my socks,
I've a head thats full of empty dreams
and a pocket full of rocks.
No..I don't have a dog gone thing.
No car! No clothes! No house.
Hell even my best friend is gone.
Ran off with what was my spouse.
Yet I'm still fairly happy.
I can't dwell on what I had.
Cause' if I did; believe you me.
I'd be to Gaw Durn sad!
They were talking about drugs. I did not know they were talking about a drug. So you can imagine all the crap I got on this one. .... Prison sucked. I deserved to be there. (I never hurt anyone, stole or terrorized anyone) This was a very lighthearted moment in a time of my life that was anything but pleasant.
*I had no idea I was being so prophetic.........For Someone?
camera three is having
an existential crisis;
his long languid lens
has suffered in silence,
an impotent shard of
for his vision won’t
focus on faecal injustice,
camera three is having
an existential crisis;
or other devices,
just won’t solve the problem,
or even negate,
this delicate time
in his delicate state,
camera three is having
an existential crisis;
Osiris, Anubis, Oasis and Isis,
have all shed the skin of
guitar band dementia,
wheeling out wisdom
for the fear of inertia,
camera three is having
an existential crisis…
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
Best Ever Saw
I’m gonna tell you a story,
Of the saltiest preacher I know.
The kinda man to charge hell,
With a hand full of snow.
Now I was stompin out broncs.
For the ranch W M,
Tunin’ up for the rodeo
That I planed to win.
When this tall talkin’ preacher,
Tells me about all my sin,
And tellin’ me about salvation,
That only with the lord could I win.
So I tells him God never been,
On no killer broncs as these.
Only his counter part,
Can tame the likes of these.
But that ol’ preacher was a believer,
And said God can move mountains,
And only through his word,
Can you find out his plans.
I say’s true nuff,
I believe it’s a fact.
But I get you wouldn’t be so sanctomonios
If you got on catamouts back.
Well now that ol’ preacher
Up and calls my bluff
And toe’s into the sturrip
And settled down with a huff
Now Catamount likes what he does,
And does it right well.
And I knew this here preacher
Was going to get a real taste of hell
Ol’ Cat knew every trick
Writ in the book
And I’d lay wages to say he’s
The auther if you cared to look
Cat he start out easy to the left
And finishes out to the right
But that preacher sat that saddle
Jest holdin’ on tight
Then that mean ol’ bronc
Starts curly-wolfin’ it though the field
And I think that preacher
Knew ol’ Cat would never yield.
Next cat starts a sunfishin’
‘cuz he had new shoes he wanted to show
Oh. By the way they’re Nike’s
‘case you wanted to know.
But then that preacher was about
To give up and fall
The Wallmart attendant came out
And unplugged the pony from the wall
That goes to show you
The Lord works in strange ways
For I see that preacher ever’ week
‘Cuz I goes to church on Sundays.
He weren't nothin' but a broomtail.
Jist a sorry lookin', notch-eared nag.
He stood there leanin' ag'in' the fence
Like a dirty, wore out, old dish rag.
But the wrangler was desp'rate fer a mount
And there weren't none else around.
So he paid the stableman ten bucks--
The nag weren't worth two cents a pound.
When the wrangler cinched the saddle down
The horse gave out a groan
And breathed a weary, ragged sigh,
As the seasoned rider settled on.
Then spur raked lightly horse's flank,
And sparks began to fly.
Like a July, Roman candle,
The nag shot to’rd the sky.
The screamin' bomb turned end fer end,
Then halted on a dime.
He bounded north and he bounded south;
In both directions at one time.
Then once ag'in the rocket fired
And the pair was skyward bound.
Two critters one when they went up,
But not when they came down.
The nag lit lightly on his feet
As a feather, you might say.
The wrangler landed on his face
In a cloud of dust, ten feet away.
The broomtail watched the wrangler
Drag his bruised and achin' body by;
Then he limply leaned ag'in' the fence,
And twitched his ears and closed his eyes.
(French terms to know: arabesque (ar-a-besk) stand on one leg, other leg extended back
with knee straight, arms out; pirouette (peer-oo-et) a full turn of the body on the top of
the toe or the ball of the foot; releve' (rel-vay) rise up from the whole foot onto the
ball of the foot; demi plie' (dem-ee plee-ay) half bend of the knees; port de bras
(por-de-bra) continual movement of the arms through a series of positions; fouette
(foo-ay-tay) series of turns on one leg, the other leg extending rapidly to side and
whipping around body; glissade (glee-sade) a connecting sliding step
When corrals turn to mush
and all dirt roads are slush,
springtime has arrived at our place.
The challenge begins
since I'm sans webs or fins
to walk outside with upright grace.
I don my galoshes
and cov'ralls that washes
to feed stock that wait in the lots.
By the time I return
I will honestly earn
my decor of brown and green spots.
As I step in the slop,
my galoshes do flop,
as ankle-deep mud gets a grip.
In slow forward motion
I ease through this potion,
resisting the muck's pull to slip.
I feed several hay bales
and balance two grain pails,
while working my way through the soup.
But before I am through
I'll lose one boot or two
from suction of that muddy goop.
My foot's poised in the air
as I (gasp) balance up there.
I execute an arabesque,
a slow pirouette
so I shan't get all wet.
What I need is a chair or a desk!
My predicament here
since my boot is so near
is to turn it around in the slop.
My balance must hold
while my foot's in this mold
and fearing my body will drop.
A controlled releve'
and demi plie'
are more than my posture can stand.
A wild port de bras
while I desperately claw
finds me catching the ground with my hand.
I snap a fouette'
and turn the other way.
I manage a slippery glissade.
For it's not every day
you see Muck Dance Ballet--
just when ankle deep mud makes you wade.
Copyright Terry Henderson
We branded alla our cattle today,
And man, that job is rough;
If you ain’t gonna help, get outa the way,
Cause cowboyin’ is only for the tough;
Rope them calves and drag ‘em in,
Make sure yer rope is taut;
An’ soon the brandin’ will begin,
Once the battle has been fought;
Flank them calves and hold ‘em tight,
Cause one kick s’all it’ll take;
Better hold on with alla yer might,
Till the calf is outa the gate;
Tag ‘em, brand ‘em, an’ give ’em a shot,
Then send ’em on their way;
Get ready, once the calf is caught,
You’ve gotta jump into the fray;
Cowboyin’ is a dangerous job,
But it’s one that’s gotta get done;
Work until yer fingers throb,
Usually from sun to sun!
My ol' memory is hazy
And sometimes things don't seem too real;
But I can still recall the night
That I danced at the Wagon Wheel.
Well, seems I was in a good mood
And was puttin' on quite a show;
Prancin' on top of that slick bar
And yellin' like a crazy crow!
I wore my new black Hoppy shirt
And a pair of Gene Autry boots--
They say I danced till 'bout midnight
And did all them ol' cowboy scoots.
Then outside that saloon window
Comin' in was a gent in black;
They said he was that bogey man--
Since that night I never been back.
So ends my honky-tonk story;
Like Red says: "It's saucered and blowed"--
I never danced for drunks again
Like back when I was four years old.