Best Gunning For Poems
Don’t call Moses a liar he was much more than that
There are no sands of time just time and sand
(and not enough of either in this land)
Just one way is one too many ways skin a cat.
Peter denied Jesus thrice and he still got a booking
Space is hurling through us not the other way around
Don’t look for the Arc it’s…just stop looking
(it will never be found).
Better to not be a fly on the wall lest disaster strikes
The Sun doesn’t set never sets it’s on the other side
(something none of us really likes)
Lollipops don’t pop no matter how you’ve tried.
The Titans are still pissed over losing the war
(and they are gunning for revenge)
When rain falls its not f'ing tears its more
Pyramids weren’t built by people nor Stonehenge.
Man has designs on woman and it will always be
The rib wants home the home wants another rib
(don’t ask me)
Marriage is indentured servitude for the glib.
While we’re at it love: ill-fated concept for mammals
A tree falls you’re not there it still makes a sound
(quite a shambles)
And yes the egg came before the chicken was around.
This is your mind this is drugs now what to do?
(so many choices so little time)
If she has that look in her eye who is defining you?
And thus endeth this unplanned rhyme.
(click on the pic to buy my poetry book!)
Subdue my senses like serenities face
a heartfelt happy embellished
his canter skilled with heavens grace
a companionship barley unblemished
except that she rides alone
Into the storm gathering speed
she squeezes her knees tipping her heels
gunning for the feeling she longs to be sealed
unleashed like the fury of a thunders peal
Her saddle steals with shift of weight
her balance for the run
like symmetry never expecting to yield
adrenalin hiking the fearful unknowns
There she rides alone
Her life is cinched an aimless roam
her hunger for the feeling of home
with subtle sounds like flexing leather
is the tearing of her heart like the storms she weathers
carried on waves of an emerald trail
turned wheat in Autumns image
Buckskins beat secures her seat
and gives her thoughts to visage
Though there's nowhere in this world she'd rather be
she can't shake the feeling of the missing
destined to wings that fly alone
no companion for her soul in the cheering
This is why she calls him Tuff
Hedeman in a lady she cowgirl's up...
looks her pony in the eyes
reminding her that the tough don't cry
Just take Bodacious by the horns
knowing "impossible" will not hold the throne
always through pain our courage is born
though every eight seconds she rides alone
She'll keep her head up high
never giving in to the pain
lessons she learned from her hero's
Cowboys Tuff and Lane
He never loved me
Well damn I just found out
Took a shot to the heart
Don't know where I should start
I guess I musta been strung out
Cuz I was straight up on his arm flashing that smile like aint no brother like the one I got
Saying girl I'm so lucky
You just jealous
Whatchu mean he's cheating
Ahh shut yo mouth
Making plans, writing poetry, letting his hands be one with me
He was free to play games with me
With my identity
When he was through with me
I barely recognized who she was cuz she was not me
But I was forever high
See I
I planned our wedding in my mind a million times
Yeah I said we'd name our first kid Tasha
Or prolly Sasha
Even after his great grand aunt Hadassah
Kiki or prolly Eloise
He could bend me over
To his whim or his fancy
Deeply committed was I
To this guy
I didn't care about the why
I just cared about his smile
How his face would light up when he saw me
And just how it was all so wild
Mild
was never a part of our loving
heavy from the get nicca always had me coming
To him constantly running to him
Gunning for him
Loving just him
Giving never ex-pec-ting
He didn't love me
See I just found out
One day it came to me when I was walking around the house
It came to me
How I'd put his needs before mine
Put ma money on his hustle
Saying everything would be fine
Cuz I would be-ne-fit
Joint bank accounts
Cleared out savings
Warning signs begged me to put an end to the ish
But I just couldn't quit
I could not forget
He was that 9-5 that I just could not leave
So I worked tirelessly hoping the boss would recognize
My efforts and promote me.
Promote me?
Dumb me
Strung out
Oh boy kinda good turn out
Everyone showed up but sanity
Cuz I musta been crazy to letchu play me
and sway me to your mindset
Wet, my heart with regret
turned me cold a reject
Deject-ted I stayed that way for centuries
Soul moment suffering through comments
Holding on to moments
Dead to emotion to me anomaly
He never loved me
WELLL I JUST FOUND OUT
I was silly blind trying to find
Reasons for his indiscretions
His lack of confession
Why he never let me in
Musta been ma sins
saying be more forgiving.
He never loved me.
John Wayne will be there
and the steaks will be rare,
in Cowboy Heaven;
And the Posse will be – not gunning for me
- in Blue Yonder sky
The saloon’s never dry,
it’s all free - you don’t buy,
in Cowboy Heaven;
Three fingers of rye, no more patch on my eye
- in Blue Yonder Sky
I’ll be riding off into the sunset,
Saddled up on my trusty old steed
But my permanent ‘get out of jail’ card,
guarantees that by dawn I’ll be freed
The Good Sheriff will be
on the lookout for me,
in Cowboy Heaven;
Keeping injuns at bay,
sending snakes the wrong way
- in Blue Yonder sky
My horse just won’t care,
‘cos them spurs won’t be there,
in Cowboy Heaven;
He’ll be swishing his mane
on the tumbleweed plain
- in Blue Yonder Sky
There’ll be pictures of me
nailed on every tree,
in Cowboy Heaven;
But there’ll be no reward ,
cos’ I’m loved by my Lord
- in Blue Yonder Sky
All the good guys in white,
and fightin’ the good fight,
in Cowboy Heaven;
What a place it will be -
and the Whiskey’s on me
- in Blue Yonder Sky
The debate between free will and fate has taken a hard right
turn to neuroscience, Brodmann area 4 the primary motor
cortex of the brain located in the posterior frontal lobe
(the one cut out of the one who once flew over the cuckoo's nest).
This area of the cortex has the pattern of an homunculus!
a little man, a troll, the all-wise, mandragon, the golem of Jewish folklore.
This little man has a that, when fully engorged, is
equal in size to his entire body. However, diseases
such as Parkinson's, Alzheimer's, Huntington's, Lou Gehrig's and
Creutzfeldt-Jakob
are gunning for him. His basal ganglia are garbled
and he ends up giving poor advice and making bad decisions.
Who can say what happens to his soul or cells or if all will be given or
well?
I was listening to the famous astronomer on public radio
who expressed the certainty there is no death, your soul
is immortal, it exists outside of time (but not space?). That's because
time exists only in the human mind (as does the universe
including the professional baseball season which is canceled when
you're dead).
By Spring, my problems will be solved or ignored, either way is good.
Groundhog holds the knowledge of death without dying
for man needs help from every creature born.
Will the holocaust wipe the smile off the face of our romantic comedy
or will laughter outlast the outburst?
About the dark times will there be singing?
Yes, there will be singing and some of the songs will be sidesplitting.
Solving the murder reveals the city. Nature of kinships and economic
sustenance,
who loves whom and why, when things happened and how they lost
and found themselves
in what happened. Because a meter-making argument cannot appear
from nothingness, purposelessness, just cold.
He does not go where he was supposed to go. He is in the desert,
Sonoran desert, counting cactus buds and ocotillo blooms.
This is the afterlife for which he has always longed.
The Mets figured they already had a pitching ace.
They badly needed a competent man to play third base.
A righty and a lefty were considered better than dependable.
The management considered another right-handed pitcher expendable.
The Amazin’ Mets felt they had minor league talent galore.
After the win in ‘69, they were gunning for one more.
For this expendable right-hander, a converted shortstop the Mets would get.
This was a deal the front office and fans would regret.
The outcome of this done deal proved to be a shame.
That expendable right-hander went on to the Hall of Fame.
A caveman is a slave man to his physicality
He lacks the common courage of a kind philosophy
His calling isn’t running for a newfound sophistry
And yet he won’t be gunning for a new maturity
His progress is reflective in a procreative spree
A gene that is selective in the course of history
The purpose of our pleasure is a practicality
The promise of a treasure in our own posterity
The patience of persistence is our new proclivity
To plunder our existence for a primal urgency
The peace of our resistance is a tasteful harmony
The increase of insistence on our true nobility
Our notion of devotion is an oath of honesty
The bedrock of emotion for a new civility
The trouble with promotion is a lack of clarity
The rumble of commotion in a caveman family
The human is a calling to be all that you can be
The spirit of adventure with the pride of dignity
The path is no vocation to a man of charity
The humble invocation of a new trajectory.
A coyote pack was howling as the sun crowned
Zack Waverly was weary, he'd travelled around
Zack takes up the narrative, better I found.
High noon, I rode the bay into Rotgut town
With fixed intention, I weren't playing around.
A spurt of tobaccy I spat on the ground.
To finding my quarry was where I was bound.
Saw lonesome Jake sitting outside the saloon
Playing his harmonica, a doleful tune.
No time for pleasantries, gunning for Calhoun
As I went in, I collided with Muldoon
I threw him head over heels into Main Street
Then in turning to draw the bullet was fleet.
I checked Muldoon was dead by kicking his feet
Lonesome Jake squealed and beat a hasty retreat
The bar tender nodded as I caught his wall eye
A bargirl sidled to my side and said "Hi".
With her arms 'round my neck, I did not reply.
So I swept her aside as she exclaimed "Why?"
Downing a shot asked "Seen Calhoun hereabout?"
Bar keep Sam Finnegan said "With this here drought
gone find watering hole with Indian scout"
In anger kicked a table, then came a shout.
“ Waverley, you yella belly rattlesnake!"
The saloon emptied leaving 'us' in their wake
Saw Calhoun run up the stairs making them quake.
Turning, he aimed, an easy target did make.
Double barrelled gun smoke then filled up the room.
Grabbing his legs, hissed "I'd put him in his tomb"
I punch him through a winda and grabbed a broom.
Then came a 'free for all' with goodness knows whom.
The director shouted "Cut, print, great work guys"
As my girlfriend, the bar girl, said "Hey, surprise"
As she dragged me to trailer batting her eyes.
Was Santa pushed? let the Jury decide
The Jury are gunning for Terry's hide
Terry then started to wail
Because they denied him bail
They then charged him with violent Santacide.
"Not guilty you cretins it wasn't me"
Judge asked" are you pleading insanity "?
While the Judge was distracted
Terry moved quick and acted
Hopped over the court railing and was free.
For now anyway
Written 30th November 2022
...Burke grabbed Aura and they both ran out,
riding double on his trusty horse.
The word raced quickly through the town,
a posse was formed, as a matter of course.
So Burke pushed his mount, more and more.
They couldn’t go back, despite acts justified,
not when two men, one a sherriff, had died.
So they rode, pursuers hot on their trail,
until they reach a ranch high the peaks.
Burke pulled a gun while Aurelia seized
a new horse, both study and sleek.
The rancher fumed, too angry to speak.
Burke apologized, gave him all his gold,
then sped off again into mountains cold.
Two days passed, the posse drew close,
and both their horses started to flag.
No longer able to outrun their hunters,
Burke mad camp high up in a crag,
where he could shoot safely if they attacked.
The posse appeared in the meadow below,
lead the by the sherriff’s oldest, known as Milo.
“Surrendor now, or we’ll shoot you down!”
They shouted it as they stared to climb.
But before Burke could even open his mouth
the air exploded with shrill, Indian cries.
A horde of Bannocks their arrows let fly!
They swept into the meadow, circling fast.
The posse died quickly, not long could they last.
Burke and Aurelia hid low in the rocks
until the last of the Bannocks had left.
Not much was left of the posse below,
they lay still, and were mostly scalpless.
But one figured crawled amongst the dead.
Burke climbed down, still clutching his gun,
and loomed over the sheriff's bloodied son.
“You won’t believe me, but I’ll say it now,
I acted only out of self-defense.
You’re father and Grisby were gunning for me,
and Grisby was putting his hands on my friend.
There choices brought them to their ends.”
But Milo just snarled, and crawled away,
Burke and Aura sighed, and left him that way.
No one from Tillico ever saw them again,
even when Milo put a bounty of their hides.
Some say they made for themselves new names
and peacefully lived out their lives.
Others said, like most outlaws, they died...
And if you all liked this tale that you just heard,
Tell your friends about me, Bruce Bowden the Third.
Was the West Really That Wild
They had been a big bunch of crabs
Complaints came from mouth that blabs
According to formula I recently equated
They all should be completely eliminated.
Remember when west had much luster
Had a Crabbe with first name of Buster
And then on you another one soon grew
Who was none other than Lash LaRue.
Tom Mix had mixed it up with the Duke
Of horrendous Hazard or Cool Hand Luke
When last time John and me again met
He was on a Monument Valley film set.
Could West really be benevolent or wild
Or by many people were we being beguiled
Things were peaceful and soon settled down
Until another convention came to town.
Don't bring politicians to town or pistols
either for that matter. Politicians will be
gunning for your vote.
Jim Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
The first was a wee bird
How clear the glass
Its thud was loudly heard
Rendered it to the earthen grass…
The second was the pig, squealing
Yielding its life in a blood-letting, crass
Still heard inside, the porky-pealing…
Swollen turtle mommy was to shed
Ocean tears before her eggs boiled - unappealing
Mealy-mouthed slurping of yolk-sloppy dread
Even now, such distaste, recoils…
The chicken heads chopped-dead
Headless guillotine shudders, roil
In an abrupt death paroxysm
Next, after panic-eyed goats, humans
Gunning for the body-soul schism…
(1/8/2020 Inspired by the contest: how death has affected you
Regal 2001 Commodore 2960; DMS)
I really kept no score
Yet the signal contest wore
Give us your best, give us more
Let the bore of your gun be forty four
A no holds barred Wild West contest
Gunning for the heart in our chest
Some wore a bulletproof vest
Shot in head, laid to rest
Out in the open, no refuge
Gun equalises small and huge
Some contestants used subterfuge
Single bullet more potent than a deluge
Doc Holliday legend was dying of cancer
Long barrelled 44 had all the answers
Lighting fast was flicker of trigger
Steely eyes that did not waver
23-April-2021
Guns poetry contest
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
Plugging all loopholes debarring progress.
Launching formidable,affordable and achievable programmes for the
improvement of the society.
Unfolding new ideas,technology and innovations for advancement.
Not leaving out any essential information,ideas and matters to move forward.
Gunning for the best in all things.
Ever ready to listen and cooperate with subordinates,equals and superiors.
Tender and loving to all with noexception.
On the will of progres always to achieve and succeed
Sensitive to changing events and circumstances in his environment.
Urgently attending to all issues with equal spate and pace.
Checking all details and facts available to him painstakingly.
Cautious in taking actions and making pronoucements.
Exemplary posture of purity and worthy followership.
Shinning example and pride to the society.
Succeeding through hardwork,perseverance and strongwill.
Crash down softly, where the red crush deepens
Charming, snatch your cherries from the stem
Rude health walking in the greenburst showers
Weather wonders whether she's with him.
Then fly downhill for the lost sensation
Climbing with a shudder back up fell,
Rainjacked half smiles and a skywide feeling
Rush to hunker down the shattered elm.
She could suffocate the hyacinthes
Breeding and pervading every pore
Skim-stop stones among the lead-tipped peril
Breathing once again in semaphore.
They play catch perhaps, a shimmy in slow motion
Every brush a shock to seek again
All fall ragwards in the bluebell clusters
Laughing, shrinking, knowing... something.
Jill woos butterflies while you play Hamlet
Cradling a half-brick in your hands
Grass-stained livery that can't stay forever
Sedge bonfire from nowhere and that hound.
Who'll tell grandma that the wolf has eaten?
Who'll break the bank for just a dare?
Leave mudboots ashamed to save twelve seconds
Gunning for the best seat in the lair.