Tales From Cowboy Billy

Note: About 12 years ago I put together a small book called ‘Tales From Cowboy Billy’ which was published by Alpha Beat Press out of New Hope, Pa. If you never heard of it don’t worry, not too many folks have. Unfortunately it never became quite the cult classic that I had hoped for, but those things really didn’t matter much to me in those days. There were about 40 poems in the book, I still have some surviving copies in a storage locker in New Jersey (unless rodents have ate them by now). The following is the series of poems that made up the title (and heart) of the book. They were all put down on paper in a drunken haze before I had a chance to change my mind and that is the way they stayed. I’m not sure what if anything they mean but there is a nice flow to them that makes for good reading when they roll off the tongue so I hope you will not read too much into them. Enjoy.

                                                            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 the darkness became my only friend,
so it was that 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
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 to 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 fairey 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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