Fears of wizards and witches
That place the spells
and puts you in stitches
Angels and demons
That makes you yell
With swords and pitchforks
To keep you in hell
Kings and Queens
Unlimited power
Cruelty begun for untold hours
Lawmen and criminals
But here’s the pun
Verses our mortality
They both have guns
Priest make the sacrifices
Rabbis tell us why
Mothers loving children
Fathers discipline make them cry
Daughters raised in fashion
Away from the passions of the sons
Judges playing politicians
Lawyers lying for cases won
Time is a gift of the living
Where death is the deadline begun
Freedom is worth beginning
If risk is worth a son
The law once protected
But now we regret
The law we once loved
Has now become a threat
What happened to the paperwork
The Magna Carta and Constitution
Where is God
in all this disillusion
A new heaven
And new earth
Are His only solution
To end this mess
and all this confusion
The sheriff saved the puppy and pocketed him.
His deputy laughed; was this a trick or a whim?
I think he’s going to be a buddy; let’s call him Jim.
I am actually taking this puppy to my friend, Tim.
Tim Henry, the one who solved the Templeton case?
Oh, yes, and you can come if you keep up the pace.
The puppy got down and gave both a merry chase.
They finally caught him, but it was quite the race.
How soon can we get there? Asked Deputy Trotter.
The darling puppy was panting like a thirsty otter.
I think I am keeping this pup for my granddaughter.
Said the sheriff, pouring into a cup some water.
Young Bonnie and Bud,
were Lover's on the Run,
There was no safe haven,
Once they'd Begun.
Well, Bonnie and Bud,
Robbed Bank's with Hot guns.
For twenty-One Months,
They fled on the Run.
He did it for money,
She wanted Fame.
There was no Escape,
For the Barrows Gang.
They took Thirteen Life's
And that was the Sum.
They knew the outcome
Pursued by lawmen with Guns.
The Twenty Third of May,
Was their Date with Fate.
Six Lawmen with Guns,
Flung One Hundred plus Slugs,
And the was the last,
For Bonnie and Clyde.
She was Twenty-three,
And He was Twenty-five.
God is not happy
He is furious
Nineteen lawmen standing in a hallway
While nineteen fourth-grade students get slaughtered
With an automatic rifle
Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam
Children who are texting for help
Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam
Children who are as helpless as their teachers
Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam
God sends his wrath into Uvalde, Texas
In the form of a storm seen at no other time in history
The souls of the students watch this display of anger
They had known it was possible
But never before had a front row seat
It happens, their angels tell them
Not often, but sometimes
Especially in the USA where money means more than children.
The lightning strikes are loud; the thunder is fearsome.
Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam
Picture this.
Governor of a big state.
With a bigger ego.
Tells a BIG lie.
He gets caught.
Because parents were there
Trying to save children
Who were texting for help
While nineteen lawmen were held back
By whom?
By what?
I cannot picture this.
again, big Ben,
Airmen, and then,
wise men
John Glenn
transenne
flagmen
gunmen, pitchmen
Turkmen oilmen
lawmen, brood den
unpen, bullpen
6/27/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2018©
Written for project North Omaha Writer’s Group assignment 2019©
Copyright © James Edward Lee Sr. | Year Posted 2019
Peeking through the hotel keyhole
I start seething, I begin to see red
There’s a strange man taking MY role
I can see them both romping in bed
I decide I must act really speedily
Don’t have a moment to spare
Activating my plastic room key
I see his white bottom, it’s bare!
Aiming my gun, I shoot both in the head
Blood stains the rug, it splatters the wall
It ends their affair, that love rat is dead ...
I’ll plead guilty when the local cops call
The gunshots draw lawmen to the door
Cops soon arrest me, they take me outside
My wife’s out there, she’d been at the store -
She’d let our room to a groom and his bride!
SLAP THE MUSE AND TURN IT LOOSE CONTEST Judged 2/13/19 - poem got n/a
12/31/18
No Imposter, I
Should I once ignore your smile
Call the undertaker
For I be dead unless I be
Imposter fraud or faker
Yet should I be, blind to thee
Even should a fraud I be
Interloper still would see
The beauty that resides in thee
Never shall I stay your kiss
Nor from your hug extract
Nor fail to stroke your flaxen strands
Never shall do that
Should we walk with hands unheld
Call the lawmen in
Tis not I you walk beside
But someone in my skin
Never shall I aim to roam
Nor draw another's eye
Change not I, lest I die
No Imposter, I
19 November 2018
a terza rima
The setting? Bean Town, known for allegory,
has city gardens guarded close by lawmen.
Make Way for Ducklings, long a famous story.
Adjacent playground near the well-known common
includes eight precious ducklings, bronzed with burnish
inviting kids to bring a weary mom in.
As Mommy-sized folk sit, these icons furnish
young fledglings brief recess from worn caregivers.
Moms will then offer swan rides to refurbish.
Such swans are boats that cruise along the rivers,
diversion's fun that Boston mass delivers.
written May 14, 2016
...inspired by the Robert Earl Keen Jr song
'The Road Goes On Forever'
Flyin' high thru south west Texas
black Camaro's leakin' oil,
radiator needs attention,
sputterin', it starts to boil.
Up ahead a service station,
gotta get attention quick,
a fast mechanic and a twelve pack,
cigs and chew will do the trick.
Curt's his name, his disposition,
mean, and dangerous to boot,
he robbed a bank in Amarillo,
teller there he had to shoot.
He doesn't know the teller made it,
thinks he's headed for the Chair,
guns the Chevy, checks the rearview,
blows a tire and fits the spare.
Evenin' comes, it starts to rainin',
visibility is bad,
seven beers, he feels some comfort,
wildest time he's ever had!
Heading southward to the border,
up to speed, he's almost there,
no sign of lawmen in his mirror,
no restrictions anywhere.
North of Shafter there's a roadblock,
troopers out in full array,
he floors the pedal, doin' ninety,
they're not gonna block his way!
He slams a cruiser at full measure,
they are stationed full three deep,
a fiery heap of molten metal,
none to grieve and none to weep.
...inspired by the Robert Earl Keen Jr song
'The Road Goes On Forever'
Flying high thru south west Texas
black Camaro's leaking oil,
radiator needs attention,
sputtering, it starts to boil.
Up ahead a service station,
gotta get attention quick,
a fast mechanic and a twelve pack,
cigs and chew will do the trick.
Curt's his name, his disposition,
mean, and dangerous to boot,
he robbed a bank in Amarillo,
teller there he had to shoot.
He doesn't know the teller made it,
thinks he's headed for the Chair,
guns the Chevy, checks the rear view,
blows a tire and fits the spare.
Evening comes, it starts to raining,
visibility is bad,
seven beers, he feels some comfort,
wildest time he's ever had!
Heading southward to the border,
up to speed, he's almost there,
no sign of lawmen in his mirror,
no restrictions anywhere.
North of Shafter there's a roadblock,
troopers out in full array,
he floors the pedal, doing ninety,
they're not gonna block his way!
He slams a cruiser at full measure,
they are stationed full three deep,
a fiery heap of molten metal,
none to grieve and none to weep.
first came Matt Dillon
later on came Joe Friday
they're two true lawmen
...inspired by the Robert Earl Keen Jr song
'The Road Goes On Forever'
Flying high thru south west Texas
black Camaro's leaking oil,
radiator needs attention,
sputtering, it starts to boil.
Up ahead a service station,
got to get attention quick,
a fast mechanic and a twelve pack,
smokes and chew will do the trick.
Curt's his name, his disposition,
mean, and dangerous to boot,
he robbed a bank in Amarillo,
teller there he had to shoot.
He doesn't know the teller made it,
thinks he's headed for the Chair,
guns the Chevy, checks the rear view,
blows a tire and fits the spare.
Evening comes, it starts to raining,
visibility is bad,
seven beers, he feels some comfort,
wildest time he's ever had!
Heading southward to the border,
up to speed, he's almost there,
no sign of lawmen in his mirror,
no restrictions anywhere.
North of Shafter there's a roadblock,
troopers out in full array,
he floors the pedal, doing ninety,
they're not gonna block his way!
He slams a cruiser at full measure,
they are stationed full three deep,
a fiery heap of molten metal,
none to grieve and none to weep.
He watched his mother, his mentor and three of his best friends
die right before his eyes.
His mother died of TB very slowly,
and when she slipped away he was there at her bedside.
John Tunstall, his mentor, employer and very close friend,
was riddled with bullets by a gang of corrupt lawmen,
right in front of him.
His pals Dick Brewer, Tom O'Folliard and Charlie Bowdre,
were all murdered in the presence of his company,
and yet despite all of the violence and all of his tragedy,
his outlook on life was always cheery.
Never dwelling in his dark past or present miserably,
always looking towards his future joyously living life fully.
How the hell did you do that William H Bonney?
I have suffered far less than he,
and yet I'm a miserable SOB who avoids everybody.
I wish I knew your secret William H Bonney.
As much as I admire you, I also sometimes feel envy.
...inspired by the Robert Earl Keen Jr song
'The Road Goes On Forever'
Flying high thru south west Texas
black Camaro's leaking oil,
radiator needs attention,
sputtering, it starts to boil.
Up ahead a service station,
got to get attention quick,
a fast mechanic and a twelve pack,
cigs and chew will do the trick.
Curt's his name, his disposition,
mean, and dangerous to boot,
he robbed a bank in Amarillo,
teller there he had to shoot.
He doesn't know the teller made it,
thinks he's headed for the Chair,
guns the Chevy, checks the rear view,
blows a tire and fits the spare.
Evening comes, it starts to raining,
visibility is bad,
seven beers, he feels some comfort,
wildest time he's ever had!
Heading southward to the border,
up to speed, he's almost there,
no sign of lawmen in his mirror,
no restrictions anywhere.
North of Shafter there's a roadblock,
troopers out in full array,
he floors the pedal, doing ninety,
they're not gonna block his way!
He slams a cruiser at full measure,
they are stationed full three deep,
a fiery heap of molten metal,
none to grieve and none to weep.
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