Monday, November 25, 2013

Tales From Cowboy Billy

Tales From Cowboy Billy

let it begin today,
so many years spent waiting,
so many words left wasted,
like road kill lying
black and bloated,
alongside forgotten highways;
the time is near,
can you not feel it?
running across these open plains,
calling out,
screaming to be free,
limitless,
boundless,
no more locked doors;
no more empty rooms;
bright, light, urbane young pretenders,
searching for inside information,
from which there is no shelter,
while the curtain goes up,
revealing the hidden disease
that has haunted this town
from the beginning of time;
the dream walker enters,
back from a journey
which has no beginning,
and for which there is no end,
carrying secrets long since gone,
where the innocent hide,
deep inside,
safe and warm,
free from mind boggling death
and other insidious pieces
of shit;
meanwhile,
Cowboy Billy
rides on.

Cowboy Billy’s Still Riding

I sought you out,
but you were nowhere
to be found,
I cried out for your truth,
but darkness became my
only friend,
so it was that I realized
this door had closed
forever,
there is no return
after passing this way;
there is only tomorrow;
dreams do not die,
they remain with or without
the underlying madness
of a new day,
it is here we meet once again,
for better or worse,
till death do us part,
and all that jazz;
what road is this
that we ride upon?
full of angelic mysteries
for which there is no answer,
no mission big enough,
twisted and turning,
going down one-way streets
with the natives screaming
to turn around
before it is too late,
stirring like hideous new creatures
of the night,
lurking inside empty caves,
waiting for fresh new
flesh fantasies;
meanwhile,
Cowboy Billy
still rides on.

Cowboy Billy to the Rescue

in the morning,
before these poisons build up,
I can still hear it
talking away,
as if I never stopped listening,
Sundays,
always leave me wondering,
if I can’t be a good Christian;
can I at least be a good catholic;
calmness,
always precedes the emptiness,
as good ole boys stand around,
talking about the good ole days,
while never mentioning the past,
so here we are,
alone and wandering,
without a clue,
faces that smile back
inside this capital offense;
oh yes,
use me like a
lightning rod,
help me absorb
this incredible energy
with no thought
of a better tomorrow,
no fear of a forgotten memory
or other sordid fairy tales;
just then,
Cowboy Billy
came crashing in
with six guns blazing.

Betwixt and Between (Fuck Cowboy Billy)

I have been to these edges,
I know the subtle differences
of the middle ground,
in this place somewhere
betwixt and between,
where eventually
everything is lost;
I watch
as others pass by,
on their way to
here or there,
never taking the time
to look around these
wide open spaces,
where so many things
lie wasted and abused,
hiding from the truth,
running from the final destination;
and it is getting harder
to get back to here,
when I know
that I will never reach
there;
fuck Cowboy Billy.

Sacred Imposters

these things are not for everyone,
most cannot handle
the imperfections or misconceptions
of it all;
still,
we must be kind;
in the cool autumn sky
the answers live,
this was never about truth,
this was never about right or wrong,
this was never about black or white,
this was never about anything at all,
it was only the sound
of a soft white light,
on its silent journey
from a distant tower,
in the middle of the
cold black night;
down in faery land
they are dancing still,
carrying on,
drunken and out of control,
isn’t it grand?
see how they scatter
as the eighty foot pole
comes crashing to the ground,
aye boys,
that was a close one for sure;
oh sacred imposters,
do not strive to belong,
find that
for which there is no reply;
Cowboy Billy’s
not going to take this
lying down.

Cowboy Billy Has His Revenge

into the crimson night
goes the dawn,
never to return or
be seen again,
this then is the day,
this then is the time
for which we have
sold our lives,
however miserable
they may be,
was there ever any doubt
it would come down to this,
so full of pompous desires and
bliss ridden fuck-dreams;
it has only just begun;
even now,
the reality remains
hard to accept
among these flame-ridden ships,
sinking slowly out of sight
into the darkness
of silent ocean depths,
gasping for just one
more breath;
Cowboy Billy,
at last,
has his revenge.

Goodbye Cowboy Billy

so it would be,
without a whimper or a whine,
asking no forgiveness,
facing the fury
with nary a thought of retreat,
going slowly and completely
into the unknown tempest,
guns blazing,
a fighter
till the very end,
taking a hundred, no,
a thousand of the bastards
with him;
goodbye
Cowboy Billy;
you shall be missed.
.

.

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