Best Holsters Poems

'Twas an ominous moment when rode into town
To its marshal defy and outdraw and gun down
A notorious, murderous varmint named Slade 
Who had widows and orphans throughout the west made.

The next morning, as destined, they met on the street
To for title of gunfighter finest compete....

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...Dedicated to the memory of my great Uncle Fred,
Spanish American Veteran & worked a "night job" during
the depression, while supporting wonderfully my Mom's
family on the south side of Chicago, when she was young,
Grandpa had lost everything, but Uncle Fred saved our family



I have never been...

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David slings a rock
Cop holsters a glock, Lizzie Borden packs an axe
Mac he packs the knife, Billy battles with a club, Tommy’s gun is a sub
Kelly’s got one too, Bazooka Joe Is Gum, Peter Gunn isn't,Colt45not malt
Nor is it a horse, horseshoes & handgrenades, canons...

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To a rhythm my feet were moving.
Left, right, T.A.N.G.O.
Moving at a pace full of life and spirit.
A willing partner I had.
Twirl, pause, five steps always ahead.
Stamp and up he holsters me.
He was best with the twist.
My hips would gyrate.
Moving at the steady pace of his...

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Magazine ads and newspaper obituaries
skitter across the streets
like tumbleweed in the desert.
Rims the size of carriage wheels roll by.
Everyone's holsters are filled,
even the children carry pistols.
The schools are ghost towns
but the saloons stay occupied.
This is the Wild, Wild West....

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WESSON
GIVES A LESSON
WITH   A   .357
DAVID SLINGS A ROCK
COP HOLSTERS A GLOCK
LIZZY BORDEN PACKS AN AXE
MAC HE PACKS THE KNIFE
BILLY BATTLES WITH A CLUB
TOMMY’S GUN IS A SUB
KELLY’S GOT ONE TOO
BAZOOKA JOE IS GUM
PETER GUNN IS NOT
COLT .45 IS NOT MALT
NOR IS...

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The Gunslinger 

There once was a honest man, a man of iron and steel
Vengeance filled his heart, a lust for blood so surreal
No one knows what calamity has forged his evil ways
Or of what rages in his cold heart, no man can ever say

In folklore...

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At the 5:00 whistle
When the sunset in late November
Is less light and more molten
Like a blast-furnace window
Glowing above the highway home

Goo spilling from its sparkling ladle
Bent
At the off-ramp’s arthritic elbow

The city smolders
Under
The backs and braces of its groaning bridges
Like a half smoked cigarette
Crushed under the...

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As I ride across the high plains desert
large gaps of open, arid scenery whisk by 
burning sun is heating up old rippled windows
jostling riders jiggle and jump, jerk and sway 
to the click, clack, click clack of wooden tracks
towards Tucumcari, New Mexico; Gateway To The...

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Shots fired 

In a western town

Smoke clears

From the barrel of a gun 


Two arch rivals 

In a duel of death

Who's the better gunslinger

Will be put to the test


Bullets fly 

On a mission to kill

Only the Bulls-eye shooter 

Holsters his weapon again


Sheriff falls 

To bite the...

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A princess dressed up in lace with a crown
Cowboys, their toy guns in holsters abound
White painted faces dressed up like a clown
Supermen with their capes flying all ‘round
They travelled thru the streets without a care
Gathering treats from houses in a row
Trusting their neighbors, no harm...

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The Naked Gun

Sound asleep at the jail
A young lad lifts both guns
From the unsuspecting law man
Who is already undressed in his dreams
With abandoned holsters
The lad takes off down the street
Yelling at passersby to sell the fire arms
To anyone for 2 bits
Someone comes up from behind
Taps...

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FIFTY6FABELSOFCHARLAX 
FIFTY6FABELSOFCHARLAX 
 
 
CHARLAX 
 
The Arizona Kidd 
 
PART ONE 
 
 
The Path Of The Wind 

The Arizona Kidd hung up his spurs the day the tree split into crosses from the 
lightning bolt surmising that his LORD was not well pleased...

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Military boots grip the pavement,
hair in a Sarah Connor ponytail
Got her sunglasses on at midnight,
waiting patiently for the right ride
to stop
And swing open an invitation
to rest her road wary bones
From the bend of the elbow,
	to the cut leather gloved hand 
waving a five finger salute
With...

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In Soup Creek saloon behind Jenna’s bar
Milt’s holsters and belt and a posthumous star
Are fixed to a plaque to remember him best
There’s a custom made bracket where Milton’s guns rest

The gun barrels cross over Milt’s royal flush
That last hand had brought the saloon to a...

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