It stays holstered
The hate that I carry
But its never out of reach
I heard your voice from a window
And I imagined you falling out
Spilling over the concrete
Misaligned and stupid
That's so you
Categories:
holstered, anger,
Form: Free verse
Marble-sided buildings sunk in the sand
Jumped 40 glassy stories on command.
Everyone thinks life is nothing and money’s grand.
Rolling chair hawkers spiel and cutely chide
Sunday suited daddies to pay for their brides.
So, a cavalcade of marmalade mommies ride,
(Fatted infants firmly holstered at each side),
Tossing constant comment diapers drenched with pride
To the beach where broken dreamers slept and died.
Categories:
holstered, america, society, technology, truth,
Form: Rhyme
It was in Historic Forcados,
Where I’d first touched Pride of Barbados:
I’d run into A Talking Salvador
Long arguing with Unshaken Ricardo,
Whose interest were in Stark Bravado,
His body partly building with Mamador …
Bravado-Loving and Preaching Ricardo
Would sooner he became A Matador
Than A-Many-Times-Decorated Commodore,
This proclaiming in a corridor,
Where on display, besides Mamador,
Were nourishing-seeming tomato
And as nourishing-seeming pimento.
“If you were a Commodore
For all your sung bravado,
You wouldn’t last with A True Bull!
Even energized and you were full!
You wouldn’t assert you had The Beast won
Between A healthy and Sickly one …”
A Commodore’s strength is his ship
Plus the holstered pistol on his hip,
No frightening neck muscle sticking out
When chooses he to ‘MARINERS!’ shout.
Categories:
holstered, courage, desire, image, judgement,
Form: Rhyme
Vibram lugs 2 inches thick
for edge work back when
I was so young
with mountains to climb
the leather uppers
with mink oil spread
in the oven baked
again and again
Mountains I climbed
and dusty trails walked
like friends of old
they still remain
in dark of night
as I do cry
in fear I tremble
and wonder why
dreams of youth
in spring of years
golden sunshine
that could never and
a orange back pack
on aluminum frame
4000 cubes
that so much held
Baseball mitts
and skiing wax
holstered canteens
and hammocks of string
wonder I now
just what it will hold
if the long road
my feet will find
when does come
new dawn breaks
life begins again
and death flees away
a sleeping bag filled
with hollofil II
will it then replace
my King size bed
nightmares were then
a distant unfelt thing
words on the news
unknown to me
if healthy lived
kept active mind
dreams then could grow
keep nightmares at bay
yet dreams now do end
golden sun does set
dark of night will fall
cannot be held at bay
again take up my staff
and the backpack fill
sturdy boots again to wear
and on the road go away
Categories:
holstered, poetry,
Form: Free verse
A lifetime ago, somewhere in Houston, I really tied one on.
Somewhere in the wreckage of a ninety-proof night.
I got into a fight and lost the keys to my apartment.
With a boozy shoulder, I attempted to ram down the door.
My landlady pointed a shiny 44 at my forehead.
Thankfully she recognized me between puffs of moonlight.
She re-holstered my death and walked away in a huff.
(There's something about a tight little blonde with a big shiny gun)
She wouldn't talk to me for days...until the rent was up.
This story is 89 proof with only one tiny embellishment...
Categories:
holstered, abuse,
Form: Free verse
End your war now decades gone
join again, relented brawn
plant once more your dirt less lawn
holstered arms yet never drawn
Brotherhood mesh in faux glove
family pride hangs black above
leave that hawk embrace that dove
homeless now, there is no love
Unknowing knowledge all this time
what they stole it was a crime
used again, your only dime
the inner scars won’t heal with time
The dust blows bleak upon your face
helpless strong you are disgrace
salvation is a different place
no to puppies no to lace
Choice it lays before you now
be one of, but have to bow
or loneliest like Andy’s Mao
sacrificed, a sacred cow
One adrift with separate pride
the other with a desperate bride
both will set you far aside
from that boy that never lied
Categories:
holstered, childhood, courage, world,
Form: Rhyme
At Sunday service
I found myself mystified
by something shiny.
It was Granny's gun
holstered, hanging on her hip.
She smiled so sweetly.
Nodding nervously,
I put my eyeballs back in
and stared straight ahead
at--You guessed it!--a
pistol protruding from the
pastor's shirt pocket.
And then I woke up!
This time it was just a dream,
I'm happy to say.
July 19, 2016, entered in Janis Thompson's Choka contest
April 21, 2021
entered in Anthony Biaanco's Guns Poetry Contest
Categories:
holstered, freedom, rights,
Form: Verse
Two paths I cant choose
shoes racked, knee caps on the pews
Hands clasped we ask for a few
Key At Bats just to come through
Cause its the fact that we don't have a clue
about what is right or true
white or blue, its misconstrued
This world's view, so tried and true
Loves the lies that its spews
Recite spite just to argue
On the news flea bites ensue
To make you believe what you should be like
tattoos, earrings, abuse subdued's your hearing
cant move the muse that's sneering
the proof is mute but blaring
This route of blues is wearing
my cold shoulders are veering
my soul's holstered and fearing
These sold soldiers are tearing, us apart
We need a spark, light this dark
torque the wrench and raise the bar
scorch the bench and make a mark
were told were quenched, when were starved
excuse my french, but our ****'s
stench does not come from our ****
These sand sharks that stand on shore
can't answer The question marks,
Were all the bark with no roar
Morality's at ground floor
trying to eat pork With salad forks
Just like mister Macklemore
this hits right at you're apples core
Categories:
holstered, christian, courage, dark, god,
Form: Lyric
Holstered magnum gun:
To use or not to use?
Choices, choices—choose!
‘Hope it’s the right one
Categories:
holstered, confusion
Form: Quatrain
Fourteen horsemen are riding together
With pistols, and rifles, holstered in leather.
Bank robbery is the reason; it's me they chase,
Eager men of all sizes and different race.
The sheriff and his posse are hot on my trail,
Determined to hang me in front of the jail.
There’ s a five thousand dollar reward on my head,
Makes no difference if I'm live or dead.
My horse has gone lame and my canteen is dry,
I'm sucking on cactus so of thirst I don’t die.
It's a five-mile walk to the Rio Grand,
Where I can drink my fill by hatful or hand.
I've already hidden the money and gold,
Inside a cottonwood, by it's size, is old.
Someday I'll return and my treasure I'll take,
Then build me a castle by a pristine lake.
Presently my choice is to run for my life,
Cause I can't fight fourteen with a gun and knife.
If I reach the river I'll grab me a log,
Swim for the current and get lost in the fog.
Lord, if you're willing, please save me "one more time,"
And I'll never rob again, I'll just write rhyme.
Categories:
holstered, cowboy-western, me, me,
Form: Rhyme