Tales From Cowboy Billy

Now is the Time

democracy?

do not fool yourself,

there is no such thing,

the best that can be hoped for is

minimal interference and compromise,

the business of government has become

much to big to be run by amateurs;

so they pass out tranquilizers and toys,

in the hopes that we will just move on,

or forget,

or better yet,

die;

there is a time for repentance,

there is a time for love,

there is a time for redemption,

there is a time for sorrow;

this is not that time;

now is the time for lustful

comic book heroes;

Cowboy Billy,

where are you?

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 feel it?

running across 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

haunting 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 as I realized,

this door had closed forever,

there was no return after passing

this way;

there is only tomorrow;

dreams do not die,

they remain as always,

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,

as the natives scream ‘turn around’ ‘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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