Long Rawhide Poems
Long Rawhide Poems. Below are the most popular long Rawhide by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rawhide poems by poem length and keyword.
I don’t blow no trumpet. I don’t beat no drum.
Need to make haste softly ‘cause of where I’m from.
Draped in gray felt shadow with the brim turned down,
Keep my profile low if I go into town.
Ain’t nostalgic now, but I remember when…
Won’t give one thin dime to do it all again.
Watch the sun go sinking low atop the canyon wall.
Pick a dozen stars to wish on just to watch ‘em fall.
When you’re this close to the bottom you don’t have to crawl.
You’re just stepping off the edge of a dime, that’s all.
Like the wolf accused of doing in the lamb,
Keep my back trail covered ‘cause of who I am.
When I stop to tighten up a stirrup strap,
Hold my breath and listen for a twig to snap.
Ain’t the bitter sort like most hard-bitten men,
But I wouldn’t give a dime to do it all again.
Feel like screaming toward the sky atop the canyon wall.
Throw my demons down the cliff side just to watch ‘em fall.
They can walk me to the gallows. They won’t see me crawl.
Be like stepping off the edge of a dime, that’s all.
Packed some rawhide rations and a bone to chew.
Always leave town early ‘cause of what I do.
Just a child out searching for that Golden Fleece.
Gonna rock this pony till I rest in peace.
Ain’t no banker’s clerk, but I can count to ten.
Won’t give one thin dime to do it all again.
I WAS ROME - MING THROUGH TIME.
WHEN I PASSED THROUGH A DOOR.
I WAS PART OF THE CLOUD ,
OBSERVING A WAR.
FREEDOM RIGHTS AND PRIVACY
WERE HANGING BY A THREAD.
LEGAL PROPAGANDA
BEING DRILLED INTO FOLKS HEADS.
PRIVACY IS A FRAGILE WORD.
ESPECIALLY WHEN I KNOW ,
EVERYTHING YOU EVER SAID ,
THOUGHT , HEARD OR TOLD.
GOTTA LOVE WHEN PEOPLE SAY,
THERE IS NOTHING I NEED TO HIDE.
THAT'S UNTILL I EXPOSE THE TRUTH
YOU SIMPLY CAN NOT DENY.
INVASION OF YOUR PRIVACY,
GOES BEYOND THE SCOPE.
MANIPULATION OF YOUR THOUGHTS
HAS THE SAME EFFECT AS DOPE.
IF YOUR SUGGESTION CREATES IDEALS
THAT BENEFIT THE CORPORATION,
YOUR SURELY GOING TO GO ALONG
WITH NO NEED FOR EXPLANATION.
INVASION OF YOUR PRIVACY,
INCLUDES THE FOODS YOU EAT.
IF BIG AGRA SAYS IT'S GOOD FOR YOU
TO JUSTIFY , YOU REPEAT.
OWNING WHAT YOU NEED TO GROW.
CORPORATIONS PATENT , AND SELL TO YOU.
GOVERNMENT , BLINDLY , GOES ALONG
AND THE POPULOUS , HAS NO CLUE.
KNOWING THINGS THAT FRIGHTEN YOU
LIKE HATRED , WARS AND CRIMES.
GOVERNMENT HAS TO PLAY ALONG
IN THE FORNICATION GAME OF MINDS.
INVASION OF YOUR PRIVACY
INCLUDES SETTING PEOPLE UP.
IF ORGANIZED CRISIS ARE EXPOSED
THE COMPROMISED COVERUP.
ANOTHER WAY OF INVADING PRIVACY
IS STEALING PEOPLE'S TIME.
THE COMPLICIT AND COMPROMISED
CREATE CHAOS OF YOUR MIND.
MEANING THIS AND SAYING THAT
CLAIMING WRONG IS RIGHT.
WHEN CONSTANTLY BOMBARDED
DEPLETES YOUR TIME TO FIGHT.
WHEN WEAK. , TIRED AND GIVING IN.
METAPHORICALLY , THE SHIP IS SINKING.
YOU WILL RELINQUISH "ALL" PRIVACY
DRINK WHAT THE REST ARE DRINKING
ONCE DEPENDANT ON CORPORATION
THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN HIDE.
CORPORATIONS NO LONGER NEED YOU,
YOU BECOME RAWHIDE.
IT STARTS OUT WITH YOUR PRIVACY
WITHOUT NOTICE , YOU LOSE YOUR RIGHTS
THAT'LL BE THE END , OF SOVEREIGNTY
AS HUMANITY, GIVES UP ON THE FIGHT.
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE IMPLANTS
FOR SURE , THERE'S NO WAY OUT.
DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU SAY
THEY'LL OWN YOU , WITHOUT A DOUBT.
YOU'RE PRESENTLY IN A LIFETIME ,
GUIDED BY SOCIOPATHS.
IF YOU DARE , DISAGREE WITH THEM
YOUR DISCARDED JUST LIKE TRASH.
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE , DELETES
AND SENSORS , VITAL INFORMATION.
IN OTHER WORDS , THE PSYCHOPATHS
CONTROL YOUR DESTINATION.
Michael E. Harris
01192023
It was as if someone had turned on the light .
I must have been about ten years old when my Mother sent me to the shop.
She liked Jim Reeves and I went to pick up his 45, 'Take my hand precious lord'.
A month ago I heard that song and the care free days of the sixties flashed back into my mind.
Back then there were no computers, mobile phones or social media.
People were friendlier and there was more respect for others.
We watched black and white T.V with programmes like Doctor Who,The Saint,and Rawhide.
We went everywhere by bus and sometimes walked as we had no family car.
The sixties were for me the best years to live through for music and an easier way of life.
All it took was a song to take me back to that golden era but sadly now only a distant memory.
Written on 28th September 2018
For ten lines of what it was like back then
poetry contest sponsored by Silent One.
He says. "Never say, I can't."
"Why on Earth not meet defeat
admit you're seldom right.
Saying you CAN is vanity
and looking for a fight."
He says. "Don't look back on failure ..."
"Dwell on failure is what I say
thank failure with a smile!
A learning tool is what it is
to shorten your next mile."
"Good results are scant." He says.
"Oh goodness," she says. "Where are you looking?"
Don't you breathe the air with roses blooming
and eat your fine wife's lucious cooking."
"Taste life's gifts," she says. "Don't focus on doom."
He says. "But, praise is less than complaint!"
"Enjoy the ACTION she says, not the "at-a-boy!'
it is YOU who decides what's of value to YOU
and how to feel about every judgment deployed.
Your opinion of self is what you should pursue."
"Embrace the TRUTH with stoic composure." He says.
"The truth...which truth is that?"
"Laugh," I say, "in the face of those
to those opposed, tip your hat.
Revealations comes with growth!
He says. "Be rawhide tough and BULLDOG mean."
"Oh God, what men don't do?
Be sweet, be soft be kind I say
and like returns to you
for your soul you've not betrayed."
"Defeat," he says, "has no place in your repertoire ..."
Now here, she says, "it's not defeat to wish upon a star...."
Poets: Charles Henderson & Debbie Guzzi
MARVEL 1960s
As I journey into mystery
I come across the tower of shadows
Into the chamber of darkness
I'm found tales to astonish
Hulking and giant men
Sub marina
Involved in tales of supense
Iron men and american Captains
Oh! but strange tales
Doctors and one eye patch wearing --
government men
Women named Millie and Chili
and both of them are modeling
Alien beings silver surfering in the skies
UFO's and nova alien beings from all over
Barbarian conan astonishing tales
Kazar Doctors of doom, ghost riders
Adventures amazing inhumans
Black widow, cloak and dagger
Rawhide kid Sgtof fury howling commandos
Leatherneck raiders and Captain Savage
dun know if ya old enough
or even if you know what I'm talkin bout
Mention titles above of marvel 1960's hero books
who say's this poem has to rryme of even be good
I said mention above titles of old marvel comic texts
And yea I'll even mention "NOT BRAnD ECHH"
MARVEL 1960s
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.
12/23/17
Bozo the clown is ready to begin,
in Cuba, Fidel Castro starts his reign.
Buddy Holly meets a horrible end,
Charles de Gaulle is back on top again.
Motown now brings us a whole lotta soul,
Disney’s Sleeping Beauty warms up our heart.
TV’s Bonanza, Rawhide, Twilight Zone,
and The Untouchables all get their start.
That F104C flies higher still,
the show ‘Rocky and his Friends’ is unveiled.
Marx Brother’s are no longer on TV,
the first ‘Barbie’ dolls are ready for sale.
Vince Lombardi takes over the Packers,
the Cardinals trade just one player for nine.
Tom Landry starts to coach for the Cowboys,
in about 30 years he will resign.
Boston Celtics score one seventy three,
Candlestick Park is now Bayview’s new name.
One-forty-eight straight then Yogi errors,
Boston Red Sox last race barrier team.
Food stamps help to fill our hungry bellies,
a new design for the pennies tail end.
The Dalai Lama has to leave China,
Al Ginsberg’s “Lyseric Acid” is penned.
Hawaii becomes state number fifty,
Japanese Americans freed once more.
Russia shows us the far side of the moon,
America wants to even the score.
No one knows why they played two All Star games,
least they sent someone to the Hall of Fame.
The AFL is the new football league,
Eddie Lubanski bowls two perfect games.
Oklahoma’s prohibition is done,
Soviets to invade Afghanistan.
Able and Baker leave orbit and back,
and NASA announces their moon trip plan.
SR.N1 is the first flying ship,
Lady Chatterley’s Lover is now banned.
Planet 9 from Outer Space aptly named,
as the world’s ‘worst film’ and then it gets canned.
The discovery of Zinj means humans,
had lived at least two million years ago.
Ike bounces his message off of the moon,
we hear that Kookie can lend us his comb.
Hendrix buys his first electric guitar,
he only plays one gig and then gets fired.
Bob Dylan graduates from his high school,
and he is beginning to be inspired.
There’s a growing sense that things are changing,
people can’t quite put their finger on it.
In Wakenda I’m clinging to my mom,
and my diapers keep filling with ‘not spit’.
O brother, they closed the brothel!
Beer and barmaid breath is closed.
Banter with corsets and silk stockings
withheld - the downy frown of ‘stache.
The itch of a cattle drive — the rawhide
chaffed and fettered,
all the while driven by unholy sex.
O brother, a frightful fight broke out
like measles planted from head to toe.
when you fantasized her soft skin,
her tongue lash —all those miles and miles -
the special one you call Maisy,
but boards like bandaids hammered
into place. No neon sign to contemplate.
You bring yourself back home, poor soul,
to your hot and bothered bride. There
you find the ride you’d forgotten.
You smile surprised. Only problem is
she makes you bathe and shave,
won’t allow you that chew or that beer.
O brother, they closed the brothel!
2/23/2021
Contest: They Closed the Brothel
Sponsor: Kai Neumann
Momma’s thankful for his looks,
And how he spends the day.
How he gets onto his horse,
And slowly rides away.
How he rounds the cattle up,
Back into the herd.
The simple he's and ha's,
Are his trusty words.
Momma he’s a cowboy,
Built for this life.
Momma he’s a cowboy,
Who’s energy is rife.
Momma he’s a cowboy,
Who holds his gun with pride,
Momma he’s a cowboy,
God made him to ride.
The way he fixes fence,
And the way he brands the cows.
All day basking in the sun,
Tilling the fields by plow.
The way he wears his cowboy hat,
Working without his gloves.
With busted knuckles all day long,
Still doin’ what he loves.
Momma he’s a cowboy,
Who works the day on by.
Momma he’s a cowboy,
A workin’ kinda guy.
Momma he’s a cowboy,
Tanning that rawhide.
Momma he’s a cowboy,
God made him to ride.
Well one day momma woke up,
At the crack of dawn.
She noticed something missing,
Both his cowboy boots were gone.
Then she quickly realized,
He wasn’t made for her.
But momma keeps on cryin’,
Holdin’ onto his spurs.
Momma he’s a cowboy,
Will your tears subside?
Momma he’s a cowboy,
Who roams beneath the sky.
Momma he’s a cowboy,
Until the day he dies.
Momma he’s a cowboy,
God made him to ride.
Screaming Guillotines
I.
I sit on the wide veranda of this house called America,
And I can see the Beast Boys coming our jungled way,
Coming like wild torrents of lapping flames over the astonished landscape,
Coming with black eyes squinting and staring for a feast of blood.
I sit trembling with mouth wide open, waiting for the whistling hearses to come,
And the inevitable silent tap upon my evading shoulder.
And far far away into the green enveloping expanse,
Of consuming trees and obliterating American skies,
I can hear the screaming guillotines serenading the ghost dancers.
I can see the whistling hearses bringing in the crimson nightmares.
II.
Time to take my knife again and lacerate the flesh of this dead thing,
This once-breathing creature that felt nothing but the slash of profit.
Time to spit out the long thin hairs entwined around my teeth.
Time to wonder whose hair this belongs to, as I pull out the long strands slowly,
Like pulling out long segmented worms from beneath the dirt of a rock.
“Ah, do you know the time? Is your sister coming by today?
She knows my name, and she can hear the screaming guillotines when they drop.
Will she spend some time with me here on my soft bumpy sofa?
Will she at last listen, at last hear, my remonstrances of lost love,
As we devour this dead, unbreathing thing,
Inside this salty steaming stew?"
III.
The Profit Boys are back in town,
And Jess and Jim are drunk on whiskey.
John Jupiter and his new bride, Isabel,
Are eating chicken and dumplings without a frown.
His new suit, in whisky-laden tatters, is
Hanging propped on a sweat-stained hall tree.
“Lordy those two are riling me; but shucks, it’s my wedding day!”
Then into town rides the Domino Kid from Abilene;
He’s looking to escape the screaming guillotines at Lansing.
John Jupiter and Isabel drink a toast to the future,
Their happy hearts pounding with hopeful glee;
Then he bashfully presents a wedding ring to his dimpled bride,
And kisses her sweetly under the tall Dragon tree.
But now, inside their barn, with soft lamplight aglowing,
Amidst the rambling rawhide, and a cracked cowbell,
Jess and Jim Profit set fire to the hayloft, a fire that is still growing;
The Domino Kid lies asleep, eternally dreaming of Isabel.
There was a day on TV
Where westerns were all the rage
You could take your pick
From your TV paper page
Together our masked hero the Lone Ranger
With Tonto kept outlaws in a spin
Have Gun Will Travel was the card
For black dressed professional gunfighter Paladin
Wagon Train kept rolling along
Seth Adams the leader
Flint McCullough chief scout
Old Charlie Wooster was the feeder
Rawhide kept the cattle moving
Gil and Randy kept control
In Dodge City it was Gunsmoke
Marshall Matt Dillon was key role
On the ponderosa it was Bonanza
Where Ben Cartwright was the boss
With his family of three boys
Adam, little Joe and Hoss
Wells Fargo was the stagecoach
Where Jim Hardie was the star
Now these are only some
For they were many more by far
They were the Virginian and the Rifleman
Laramie, Maverick and Cheyenne
The High Chaparral not to mention alias Smith and Jones
These made us all a fan
Cowboys where are you?
Memories of you is our lot
On TV we can’t see
Is this our last shot?
poetgord@2013