The Old West
Lord what I'd give to go back in time.
Meet historical legends Wyatt Earp,
Or Jessie James, let them leap off
The written page, and live again.
Rough riders, shooting the colt 45,
Learning swiftness by the draw.
Badges brethren, gather up,
The madman’s posse,
Gun powders equalizers,
In there bloody hands.
Wanted men, flee to,
Parts unknown,
Horse thieves, and
Cattle rustlers,
Trying to evade the long,
Arm of the law.
Fate decides whom lives,
And dies.
It makes no difference,
Innocent or guilty.
After all it is life’s truest rule,
An eye for an eye, blood shed,
To give the devil his vengeance,
Behold survival of fittest,
Heavens gates, are made from,
Twisted metal.
The hangman's tree stands ready,
Hollow nooses swing in,
Destiny’s winds,
To bid found ado unto evil men.
Strong limbs bare heavy weight,
A scaled balance of ropes,
Tenuous strength.
Blind lady liberty turns,
Her gaze away.
At histories hesitation towards,
Real justice's justification.
Hard men ride ahead,
Leaving behind
Legends tin stars,
Amongst trail dust,
Remnants.
Behold the old west breath's,
Again,
Between books binding,
And words harsh black ink.
Hardened steel vs. freedoms,
Expansion.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © Cherl Dunn | Year Posted 2013
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