.
oh yeah
i'm get'n pickled
just think'n 'bout it
thuh nymph lean'd back
'gainst thuh fence post
her flannel
shirt-tied
expose'n hern midriff
where i kiss'd
'fore
daddio
slap'd mine
right into
2dreamz
tap
Enveloping cliche’s
Without a building in the night
The locust bind
Inside your socks
Chasing you back
You not old, your hapless
And there in the grave
You hold on time
Running away from the train
The lakes aren’t wet
They exit prayers we’ve saved
And I crawled forward to grace
Home at the Ranch
Once, I had a big ranch in, Oregon, technically it is still mine
but I have no way to prove it
one day and far from the ranch, inspecting fences, sudden
cold storm hit, to survive, I shot my horse
cut his stomach open, crept inside, and quickly fell asleep
Awoke, when the storm was over, looked for my horse was gone
maybe a wolf pack had taken its carcass
I walked, or trotted, home to the ranch
the ranch hands were glad to see me and gave me a carrot
although I neighed, they put me in the corral
with the other horses, who knew and shunned me
My widow cried as I stood under the window, brought
tears to many eyes, the widow gave me an apple
Now that she was the owner and had much reasonability
she rode me to get around.
with her sitting on my back, I was careful not to show any
unbecoming excitement.
tragedy struck the widow, got a boyfriend,
a man, I had thought of firing
My intense jealousy made me furious
one day when
they were making love under an oak tree by the river
I kicked them both to death and galloped to the far blue
mountain, I know from experience that there is no justice
for wild horses.
Monroe was always up before dawn got too deep
cookin' coffee and bacon while we're still asleep
When five o'clock rolled around he'd ring that damn bell
Many a morning I'd liked to send him to hell
I always hear the sound of guitars strumming
harmonica music and cowboys humming
when I feel a warm night breeze upon my face
Whenever I look at a summer night sky
or hear the sound of a coyote's lonesome cry
it always takes me back to that peaceful place
Where men who did not care where they spit or cussed
with wrinkled leather faces covered in dust
would gather around the glowing campfire light
Singing those songs about how life used to be
when cowboys on the range were peaceful and free
until the day’s work tucked us in for the night
We’d rise up each day even before it was dawn
throw on a hat, a shirt, and shove our boots on
ride out to the herd to meet the rising day
It may not have been a fancy life that’s true
seems we always had a million chores to do
but this old cowboy still dreams of living that way
Henry started a punchin’
at the ripe old age of 15
There just ain’t no way of knowin’
all of the things he’s done and seen
All those years are far behind him
since a young cowboy in his prime
Now there is nothing left for him
but to whittle away at time
His days out on the range are gone
can’t quite grasp these new ranchin’ ways
Dudes now riding on ATV’s
out rounding up all of the strays
Henry hangs his head in sorrow
knowing his days are getting few
Just like the stallion turned gelding
his old ways have been castrated too
I was out riding the fences one day
and spied these here suits and their fancy car
They said they was from some oil company
and started cutting their way through the wire
Well I says whoa down a bit young fellas
I proceeded with my best daunting stare
There's a reason that no trespassing sign
has been hung up on that post over there
This suit says "Well old timer I don't care"
cause a blind man should be able to see
That all of them no trespassing signs there
just do not apply to my friends and me
Besides, how you think you're gonna stop us
that sign sure won't keep me from coming in
I told him the odds was in my favor
cause was the four of us against just them
Well that dude puffed out and chuckled a bit
looks more like there's one old man agin three
I said you want to take another look
there's Smith and Wesson, Remington and me
Well I put a friendly shot in the air
and them boys jumped into their car and fled
I’m sure their ride home didn’t smell too good
after I shot once more over their head
I was at this here shindig just the other night
was all duded up and was feeling all right
When this fancy fella saunters over my way
it 'peers to me like he might have something to say
Gawking at my boots, rodeo buckle and band
I guess he figured it out that I worked the land
He tips his wine glass with his pinky sticking out
then begins telling me just what ranching's about
He'd bought up thousands of acres of this cheap land
that used to belong to some worthless Indians
If I wanted real money, I'd be pumping oil
or dig gold, coal or silver from under the soil
He said man it's easy just to get down to it
bring in these machines and rip the prairie to
Waive a little cash and them congressmen aught to
just follow you around like cattle to slaughter
I says hold on there, I'm not sure you understand
so just let me show you what I think of your plan
Us rancher, we have pride in caring for the land
and I introduced him to the back of my hand
I'm sure they won't ask me to any more soirees
none of them snooty people talk to me these days
Because as I walked out I toasted them you see
with a finger sticking out but not my pinky
She's up in the morning
two hours before dawn
has done most of her chores
before the lights come on
Already milked the cows
and gathered up the eggs
even put liniment
on the horse’s sore legs
Bacon and eggs are cooked
the biscuits are baked brown
the gravy has been stirred
and the plates laid down
Once the pans are empty
the last bread's been buttered
the men tack their horses
while she clears the clutter
Now a fifty mile drive
just to get to the store
to pick up the supplies
they have been waiting for
Time to fry the chicken
and put beef in the beans
cause stomachs on the ranch
are never full it seems
After serving the meal
and cleaning up the mess
she'll ride out to the range
and work beside the rest
She has to be able
to ride fence, rope and brand
just as good as any
of those other hired hands
When the day is over
tired and hungry as hell
the men wash up and get
set for the supper bell
She'll be in the kitchen
cooking vittles again
Cause work for a ranch wife
never comes to an end
1 cup of cooked chopped bacon
7 tablespoons of dehydrated garlic
5 tablespoons of olive oil
,5 tablespoons of butter
5 tablespoons of crushed garlic
5 tablespoons of dehydrated onion
1/4 cup of sour cream
4 tablespoons of butter milk cultures
2 tablespoons of lemon zest
1 tablespoon of fish stock
1/4 cup of crushed sun dried tomatoes
5 tablespoons of dried parsley
1& 1/2 cup of pie dough
Kneading and mixing throughout.
Roll concockcion into 1/4 inch layers
Roll dough to disiered thickness
And place bacon dough mixture
Within regular dough creating a pocket
Enclose meat dough within
Plain dough.
Deep fat fry or
Bake.
Top with sourdough and
Chives.
Snow at the Red Fox Ranch
David J Walker
There is snow
At the Red Fox Ranch
On New Year’s day
The Bucks and the Does
Have come out to play
In the cover of the cold
And the old oak grove of trees
And know by heart the way
To flee if we get too near
The Red Fox Ranch
Dressed in winter with
Snow and deer
He sleeps late
because the milk cows have dried up
and the bulls long slaughtered.
There are no cowboys in the bunk house
just a couple of old chickens
pecking the dirt floor,
they produce, at most, one real egg a week
the rest are malformed by spilled ink.
However in the leaky cabin
the big brown teapot
is stuffed with scrapes of poetry
waiting to be led out into the dusty fields,
where the sun only rises and sets.
with no daylight in between.
As he does every day,
he seeks a hollow in his landscape
to bury words that should never see the light.
He knows that, over time, if left to themselves,
they will turn into little black spiders
that will spin their webs
between sunset and sunrise
creating a gaping gossamer breach
that will only lead to more fresh chinks
in the wormwood soul
of his tumbledown barn.
C-ourageous
O-pen handed
W-rangler
B-ronco
O-outdoors
Y-odeling
Sheep are shorn
not because it’s Spring wool has grown too long
Shivering as Winter’s blades dig in
furthering suff’ring’s wrong
The shepherd unsheathes his sword,
“vengeance is mine,” the Lord’s song
7/28/2020
Visibility's dropped to near-zero
Thermometer's plummeting too
Ocean tempest tossing and turning
Spraying the nerves of the crew
Deck swabbed by torrential rain
Passengers hunkered down below
Afternoon's slipped into deep shadows
Danger's pulse glowers and grows...
Back on shore, weather's sunny
Gentle breezes, calm and warm
Ignorance is sheerest bliss
When it comes to cruel ocean storms
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