Punchers Poems - Poems about Punchers

I think hell to be like a midnight grocery store shelves filled with burning crucifix and pestilence. Bloody-black water up to the necks of Half-souls. Groping mindlessly in the dark... searching for God in brackish hopelessness. Flint and wooden carts colliding- black water biters abound. The checkout line is a turnstile manned by faceless- dripping things wielding holy punchers eternally pocking your debit...

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V. He could hold his breath over a minute, bullets hit water, didn’t penetrate it, he’d used this trick before against his foes, water stopped slugs fast, not many did know. When he rose again the demons were out, so Sol cried out “Have you had enough now?” The wounded demon just pulled out a knife, charged forth through the water to end...

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IV. Their faces looked shocked when they saw the flames, looking at each other for someone to blame, then Sol cleared his throat, and they look to him, their leader stepped out, his eyes cold and dim. “I didn’t expect that I’d find you here,” said the demon, hos voice heavy and clear, “Looky here boys, it’s God’s own assassin, and I’m in...

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III. He kept off the roads to avoid their eyes, through scrub and dry grass, onwards he did ride, skirting north of the ranch, behind a ridgeline, until he stopped to see what he could find. Sol crested the ridge in a bell crawl, not wanting to tip his hand, not at all, these badlands were empty, he was alone, what happened out...

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II. The man said, “There is not much land these days, it’s probably not a good place to stay.” Sol said, “Ah, well, I’d been having that fear, but I like honestly, I’ll buy the next beer.” The off-putting man didn’t disagree, and they drank together, Sol chugged quickly, then said, “Well I best be off on my way, at least I met...

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I. The letter had come in Nevada’s north, when Sol had been enjoying a blonde whore, only to see it slip under the door, he finished with her, but enjoyed it no more. After she had gone, he read while he rode, in west Oregon hey fought the unknown, a small cattle ranch in the dry uplands was seeing weird things, again and...

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Two bible-blabbering pastors from two denominational sectors ended up in stitches and plasters. One man yelled: "Faith alone can save a man!" The other screamed: "Only good deeds can!" They swung bulky bibles, shouted curses, bludgeoned and battered their righteous faces. Oh, how they tried to kill each other, for faith, for charity, but didn't bother to heed the Lord's words: "Love one another."...

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