Poetry competition CLOSED 29th March 2013 2:57am
WINNER
David_gessner
David_gessner
Page:
Outlaws
Anonymous
"On Furlough from Hell"
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/61393.jpg
Long forgotten,
in the Old Wild West,
lived a youngin’ who
died rather bold.
A ruthless outlaw with
the greatest of gall.
My oh my,
he loved to brawl, was not so tall,
got shot young before he got old.
A wistful, energetic
blond bonnie boy, a bit coy,
horses were his riding toy,
crime was his ploy.
Had a stone cold gaze,
hard as steel, scarred inside, so unreal.
Attracted to killing in his early days
in a town named Silver City,
where things weren’t so pretty,
became the real deal
at just eighteen.
High-strung and rowdy,
always making a scene.
Dime store novels
he read in his bed,
often bullied by bigger rivals,
thus, he grew a warped head,
leading him into a descent,
with much bloodshed.
While loving the lawlessness,
he developed a bravado,
thank goodness
this evil desperado
never made it
north to Colorado.
Despite this callousness,
he was as a snappy dresser,
as well as an aggressor,
gained notoriety, extreme piety,
exhibited impropriety towards
any one just standing around.
He became very dangerous,
instead of becoming religious,
grew rather boisterous, later
grew quite illustrious.
But, for the bad things, not the good,
would become understood.
He favored
a tilted Mexican sombrero
not the usual wilted cowboy hat,
though a rat, he was lithe as a cat,
he could drop a full-grown man
dead in his tracks, just like that.
Crack, crack.
Cunning with charm,
did great bodily harm, and
for those who crossed him,
it would become very grim.
On a whim, he joined
the gang Regulators just to
have gun fun in
the Lincoln County Wars,
destruction and mayhem
soon grew more,
causing an uproar,
he was known to bed whores
and
robbed country stores.
Word spread quickly that
the kid was sickly in the head,
men piled up high to the sky,
quite dead.
People fled,
continuously
cried and cried,
asking
tin-starred deputies
why, why.
Yes, the homebred citizens
cried loudly for a solution
to this human pollution,
out of the clouds
came Sheriff Pat Garrett,
promised to bring the blue-eyed boy
into town for some questioning,
maybe a confession,
why all the transgression.
Though a legendary buffalo hunter,
what was Mr. Garrett thinking,
everyone knew,
Billy was as slippery as a skink.
The posse made good handiwork,
soon had young William in jail,
but, quick as lightning,
the Kid engaged
in some fightin’,
pulled the trigger
on his double-barrels,
striking like a raptor,
murdered his captor.
Another chapter was written,
his admirers become more smitten.
What a bloody disaster
lickety-split,
he high-tailed it
on horseback faster,
back into
the New Mexico outback.
Said he was holed-up in
some ramshackle shack, and
if people came a-lookin’,
he would give them a
smack on their heads.
Or, perhaps a gun’s
crack, crack,
making them
seriously dead.
But, attractive young Billy
had an addiction for fast action,
loneliness he could not endure,
would need to find
a cure for being impure.
From his hangout
he practiced self-eviction,
came down from the hills
to seek the pills for
his morbid affliction,
in the back of his mind,
they would never get a conviction.
Not much time had passed,
eyewitness accounts said
the heartless hater was
seen near Ft. Sumner,
belligerently cavorting
his well-known face
all over the place,
taunting his hunters to give chase.
At least, that’s the story we’re told.
no one really knows how
they finally dropped him,
I reckon the truth beckons,
we know he died young,
not old, some say foretold.
Was he shot outright or
lured with some seduction,
perhaps, a damsel in distress
for bait, no less?
It doesn’t really matter
how he was killed,
it's an historical fact,
the rude wily fox
ended up in a
crude white pine box,
a dead goldilocks,
everyone gawked.
Sadly for him,
the last thing he saw
was the cold metal
barrel of a Colt .44,
fired pointblank,
dropped him dead at 22,
one year higher than
the supposed
number he killed,
some say it was more.
These days,
the dead child remains a paradox,
an unsolved mystery now lost,
buried deep in a box long ago,
part of tumbleweed prairie history.
To some,
he is reviled,
cruel and unkind,
a scary notorious killer
and sent to hell for it,
he did not tarry.
But, in other circles,
he’s revered,
a beloved folk hero,
a well-liked bucko,
away on a furlough in heaven,
way over the rainbow.
But wherever he’s at,
there is no dispute,
we know
he hit the skids,
young Billy the Kid.
Rest in Peace
William Bonney,
and to
all the other dead men,
those he killed,
I bid you adieu, too.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/61393.jpg
Long forgotten,
in the Old Wild West,
lived a youngin’ who
died rather bold.
A ruthless outlaw with
the greatest of gall.
My oh my,
he loved to brawl, was not so tall,
got shot young before he got old.
A wistful, energetic
blond bonnie boy, a bit coy,
horses were his riding toy,
crime was his ploy.
Had a stone cold gaze,
hard as steel, scarred inside, so unreal.
Attracted to killing in his early days
in a town named Silver City,
where things weren’t so pretty,
became the real deal
at just eighteen.
High-strung and rowdy,
always making a scene.
Dime store novels
he read in his bed,
often bullied by bigger rivals,
thus, he grew a warped head,
leading him into a descent,
with much bloodshed.
While loving the lawlessness,
he developed a bravado,
thank goodness
this evil desperado
never made it
north to Colorado.
Despite this callousness,
he was as a snappy dresser,
as well as an aggressor,
gained notoriety, extreme piety,
exhibited impropriety towards
any one just standing around.
He became very dangerous,
instead of becoming religious,
grew rather boisterous, later
grew quite illustrious.
But, for the bad things, not the good,
would become understood.
He favored
a tilted Mexican sombrero
not the usual wilted cowboy hat,
though a rat, he was lithe as a cat,
he could drop a full-grown man
dead in his tracks, just like that.
Crack, crack.
Cunning with charm,
did great bodily harm, and
for those who crossed him,
it would become very grim.
On a whim, he joined
the gang Regulators just to
have gun fun in
the Lincoln County Wars,
destruction and mayhem
soon grew more,
causing an uproar,
he was known to bed whores
and
robbed country stores.
Word spread quickly that
the kid was sickly in the head,
men piled up high to the sky,
quite dead.
People fled,
continuously
cried and cried,
asking
tin-starred deputies
why, why.
Yes, the homebred citizens
cried loudly for a solution
to this human pollution,
out of the clouds
came Sheriff Pat Garrett,
promised to bring the blue-eyed boy
into town for some questioning,
maybe a confession,
why all the transgression.
Though a legendary buffalo hunter,
what was Mr. Garrett thinking,
everyone knew,
Billy was as slippery as a skink.
The posse made good handiwork,
soon had young William in jail,
but, quick as lightning,
the Kid engaged
in some fightin’,
pulled the trigger
on his double-barrels,
striking like a raptor,
murdered his captor.
Another chapter was written,
his admirers become more smitten.
What a bloody disaster
lickety-split,
he high-tailed it
on horseback faster,
back into
the New Mexico outback.
Said he was holed-up in
some ramshackle shack, and
if people came a-lookin’,
he would give them a
smack on their heads.
Or, perhaps a gun’s
crack, crack,
making them
seriously dead.
But, attractive young Billy
had an addiction for fast action,
loneliness he could not endure,
would need to find
a cure for being impure.
From his hangout
he practiced self-eviction,
came down from the hills
to seek the pills for
his morbid affliction,
in the back of his mind,
they would never get a conviction.
Not much time had passed,
eyewitness accounts said
the heartless hater was
seen near Ft. Sumner,
belligerently cavorting
his well-known face
all over the place,
taunting his hunters to give chase.
At least, that’s the story we’re told.
no one really knows how
they finally dropped him,
I reckon the truth beckons,
we know he died young,
not old, some say foretold.
Was he shot outright or
lured with some seduction,
perhaps, a damsel in distress
for bait, no less?
It doesn’t really matter
how he was killed,
it's an historical fact,
the rude wily fox
ended up in a
crude white pine box,
a dead goldilocks,
everyone gawked.
Sadly for him,
the last thing he saw
was the cold metal
barrel of a Colt .44,
fired pointblank,
dropped him dead at 22,
one year higher than
the supposed
number he killed,
some say it was more.
These days,
the dead child remains a paradox,
an unsolved mystery now lost,
buried deep in a box long ago,
part of tumbleweed prairie history.
To some,
he is reviled,
cruel and unkind,
a scary notorious killer
and sent to hell for it,
he did not tarry.
But, in other circles,
he’s revered,
a beloved folk hero,
a well-liked bucko,
away on a furlough in heaven,
way over the rainbow.
But wherever he’s at,
there is no dispute,
we know
he hit the skids,
young Billy the Kid.
Rest in Peace
William Bonney,
and to
all the other dead men,
those he killed,
I bid you adieu, too.
Anonymous
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/7f/Bonnieclyde_f.jpg/588px-Bonnieclyde_f.jpg
BONNIE AND CLYDE
Bonnie and Clyde were lovers
Both had a checkered past
Outlaws, robbers and criminals
They loved crime and each other
Bonnie grew up a nice girl
Wrote poetry and was the top of her class
Until the day Clyde Barrow entered her life
Clyde Barrow was a real badass
They killed, they robbed
They made the news
The first celebrity criminals
Notorious first in Dallas then all the USA
Life on the road was not easy
Bonnie wrote a poem called "Suicide Sal"
Running and hiding sleeping in cars
Only looked glamorous because they were stars
In Shreveport Louisiana the tale did end
A posse concealed in the bushes
Shot at Clyde's stolen Ford V8
Bonnie and Clyde lay dying
Whispered to each other
Lover see you in Hell!
bounty hunter
have you ever refused a bounty?
walked away when the risk was too great,
the reward not worthy.
in the breach of a wayward wind
you travelled a long hard road,
rode your patient steed until it was
sweated & weary, in need of
water & grooming.
the wide brim of your hat protects your eyes
& your reason from the desert sun’s fierce glare.
your longcoat is abused & ripped, repaired by
the hand of an expatriate mandarin’s daughter.
you deliver your captured prey, shackled & bloodied,
to the stark magistrates of border towns, collect a few
gold coins, & spend the night with a whiskey bottle
& a painted girl to kiss away the dust.
if you track the heart of a lover,
sharpen the dull edges of your senses,
& armor your heart: the loneliest hunter.
be provisioned with enough guns & ammo
for a long, demanding siege,
because love is not a game,
it’s a war.
but don’t put a bounty on it…
…it’s priceless
have you ever refused a bounty?
walked away when the risk was too great,
the reward not worthy.
in the breach of a wayward wind
you travelled a long hard road,
rode your patient steed until it was
sweated & weary, in need of
water & grooming.
the wide brim of your hat protects your eyes
& your reason from the desert sun’s fierce glare.
your longcoat is abused & ripped, repaired by
the hand of an expatriate mandarin’s daughter.
you deliver your captured prey, shackled & bloodied,
to the stark magistrates of border towns, collect a few
gold coins, & spend the night with a whiskey bottle
& a painted girl to kiss away the dust.
if you track the heart of a lover,
sharpen the dull edges of your senses,
& armor your heart: the loneliest hunter.
be provisioned with enough guns & ammo
for a long, demanding siege,
because love is not a game,
it’s a war.
but don’t put a bounty on it…
…it’s priceless
When the seargent tied up his shoe laces with smoking guns
He said "There is anarchy in the land of OZ"
All the sea men and soldiers said don't be misguided if we are
all wearing black.
For the witches had their harvest,
thay knew norhing thay were lovers.
Now the ocean looks like bread and thay are all
starving for the promise land.
Angeliki
He said "There is anarchy in the land of OZ"
All the sea men and soldiers said don't be misguided if we are
all wearing black.
For the witches had their harvest,
thay knew norhing thay were lovers.
Now the ocean looks like bread and thay are all
starving for the promise land.
Angeliki
Anonymous
R.I.P. Young Gun
Emilio Estevez played Billy
exactly to the hilt
no remorse
no guilt
I like thinking
that’s how it all went down
boyish charm barely below the surface
ego 10 feet off the ground
There was that part in some cantina
some dude strutting his stuff
the kid used the dandies own gun
and blasted reality through his gut
Billy knew how far to take it
he knew who he could trust
who was a real ‘pal’
who’s head to bust
I hate the way he met up with fate
but sometimes the party has to end
shot in the back down Fort Sumner way
by some jack-ass poser of a friend
When my 8 second ride here is over
and I’m called to that corral in the sky
I’d sure love to track down old Pat
and ask his sorry ass, “Why?”
Emilio Estevez played Billy
exactly to the hilt
no remorse
no guilt
I like thinking
that’s how it all went down
boyish charm barely below the surface
ego 10 feet off the ground
There was that part in some cantina
some dude strutting his stuff
the kid used the dandies own gun
and blasted reality through his gut
Billy knew how far to take it
he knew who he could trust
who was a real ‘pal’
who’s head to bust
I hate the way he met up with fate
but sometimes the party has to end
shot in the back down Fort Sumner way
by some jack-ass poser of a friend
When my 8 second ride here is over
and I’m called to that corral in the sky
I’d sure love to track down old Pat
and ask his sorry ass, “Why?”
http://wordbiscuit.com/images/desperados.jpg
< desperados >
you and me
in that store
north of Uvalde
no
that wasn't the one
it was the one in Lamesa
a greasy little store
in Lamesa
and there you were
you
in your black dress
looking dangerous
pointing your daddy's shotgun
straight at his face
200 dollars
was all he had
200 dollars
and
potato chips
you took the money
and i was so hungry
i grabbed about 20 bags
of his damn potato chips
"we're desperados"
you said
and started laughing your ass off
"we're desperados"
you and me
driving north
in flat fucking Texas
north on the county roads
cutting across
on the dirt ones
getting good and lost
in flat fucking Texas
you and me
with the moon to the west
and lights to the east
lights
making the clouds glow
"maybe that's Amarillo"
you said
"maybe that's Amarillo"
you and me
and potato chips
and 200 dollars
- - -
Anonymous
If I'd have lived in Old West times
I wouldn't have been a farmers wife
Endless work and twelve or more children
Only entertained by church on a Sunday
I couldn't wake at dawn
and work til midnight
every night
and more on a Monday
While at the saloon
they're having a party
Smelly drunks but I'd have my liquor
Fights all the time but I'd have a six shooter
I'd entertain convicts and drink with outlaws
but take the horse on weekends-
away from the chaos
I'd gallop out of the dusty town
and trot to somewhere new
I'd visit every nearby town
and try out their saloon
Empire of rebels
Demanding dominance
They enter with force
I will not let them control
Our closed doors
Bearing pressure, a final resistance
Souls vanish slowly
As they claw at my heart
The enemy is no more powerful than we
Obeying defiance
I Shed my power upon them
Displaying destruction
The very reason they're here
In this empire of rebels
Hacking, slashing, burning my way through
Relentless in progression
An endless process
I don't stop
I show no mercy
Those crusaders will meet their god
I fight for my people
The broken
The helpless
The outcasts of the world
Some call me a god
But I am merely a wanderer
In this empire of rebels
Without a cause other then retribution
I slay with pleasure
I shout with morale
My warriors roar
We unravel oppression
We travel to succession
Force fed beliefs are just words
We live with desire
Lust
We live free
In this empire of rebels
They won't see us
They can't beat us
For we walk in shadows
Silhouettes dancing,
reigning blood.
Their crimson,
Our delight
We show no apathy
We simply fight
For this empire of rebels
Demanding dominance
They enter with force
I will not let them control
Our closed doors
Bearing pressure, a final resistance
Souls vanish slowly
As they claw at my heart
The enemy is no more powerful than we
Obeying defiance
I Shed my power upon them
Displaying destruction
The very reason they're here
In this empire of rebels
Hacking, slashing, burning my way through
Relentless in progression
An endless process
I don't stop
I show no mercy
Those crusaders will meet their god
I fight for my people
The broken
The helpless
The outcasts of the world
Some call me a god
But I am merely a wanderer
In this empire of rebels
Without a cause other then retribution
I slay with pleasure
I shout with morale
My warriors roar
We unravel oppression
We travel to succession
Force fed beliefs are just words
We live with desire
Lust
We live free
In this empire of rebels
They won't see us
They can't beat us
For we walk in shadows
Silhouettes dancing,
reigning blood.
Their crimson,
Our delight
We show no apathy
We simply fight
For this empire of rebels
In resistance to the abuse they gave
We rose up to defend our cause
But they will rather have us slave
So we can no longer keep their laws
Hunted down and destroyed
They label us an outlaw
With a hate that never stops
They're sending us to hell's jaw
Is it wrong to seek our rights?
Or try to make a better choice
They trample on us,ignoring our plight
As they try to seize our voice
Public mass executions
Increased deliberate persecution
Justice is far from this land of ours
So it's time we violently seized the power
The more the brute,the more the recruit
Strongholds in countryside
If they think its cute to hide the truth
Then this is how we are bound to ride
Collide with the system's organs
"Self defense" our precious slogan
Making crew,packing tools
Steady matching against your troops
Loot banks and liquor stores
Resisting souls drop dead on the floor
For the injustice you frequently show
Obscures the peace your children will live to know
For we are set to propagate anarchy
We've made the system fertile for it
Irrigated with blood and nourished with human manure
I bet soon you'll be desperately seeking a cure
Your intelligence is losing its immune
Your system is nigh decay
And all oppressors shall be brought to book
We eagerly wait for that day
Mastering the elements of panic and fear
A tactics we learned from you
The real menace to your subjects is here
Maybe that way we'll get through to you
Now your children can't feel save at school
Social places are flooded with security men
Even at that we launch deadly campaigns
Steadily unleashing mayhem
Loud songs and ganja weed
Automatic weapons and magazines
Terrifying the neighborhood as we ride across
Creating horrible scenes
Blood,agony and tears
Sometimes I wish there was another way
But right now the sun is overhead
It's the best time to make the hay
This is not the way we chose
But if you know how it feels to be outlawed
Maybe you need a little walk in our shoes
Maybe then you'll be disillusioned
We live as thugs and we'll die as martyrs
Willing to let our blood flow for the cause
Someday,you'll come to understand our sacrifice
And why we find peace in our wars
But until then we are outlaws
Casualties of your oppressive laws
We are sorry we had to this by force...
Its not our fault,justice ate us
We rose up to defend our cause
But they will rather have us slave
So we can no longer keep their laws
Hunted down and destroyed
They label us an outlaw
With a hate that never stops
They're sending us to hell's jaw
Is it wrong to seek our rights?
Or try to make a better choice
They trample on us,ignoring our plight
As they try to seize our voice
Public mass executions
Increased deliberate persecution
Justice is far from this land of ours
So it's time we violently seized the power
The more the brute,the more the recruit
Strongholds in countryside
If they think its cute to hide the truth
Then this is how we are bound to ride
Collide with the system's organs
"Self defense" our precious slogan
Making crew,packing tools
Steady matching against your troops
Loot banks and liquor stores
Resisting souls drop dead on the floor
For the injustice you frequently show
Obscures the peace your children will live to know
For we are set to propagate anarchy
We've made the system fertile for it
Irrigated with blood and nourished with human manure
I bet soon you'll be desperately seeking a cure
Your intelligence is losing its immune
Your system is nigh decay
And all oppressors shall be brought to book
We eagerly wait for that day
Mastering the elements of panic and fear
A tactics we learned from you
The real menace to your subjects is here
Maybe that way we'll get through to you
Now your children can't feel save at school
Social places are flooded with security men
Even at that we launch deadly campaigns
Steadily unleashing mayhem
Loud songs and ganja weed
Automatic weapons and magazines
Terrifying the neighborhood as we ride across
Creating horrible scenes
Blood,agony and tears
Sometimes I wish there was another way
But right now the sun is overhead
It's the best time to make the hay
This is not the way we chose
But if you know how it feels to be outlawed
Maybe you need a little walk in our shoes
Maybe then you'll be disillusioned
We live as thugs and we'll die as martyrs
Willing to let our blood flow for the cause
Someday,you'll come to understand our sacrifice
And why we find peace in our wars
But until then we are outlaws
Casualties of your oppressive laws
We are sorry we had to this by force...
Its not our fault,justice ate us
Anonymous
Outlaw
I'm a renegade spirit
with little tolerance for
the rules and social morals
of a species
I abhor
I'm an outlaw
under the radar and
off the grid
I'd die before I'd apologize
for the life I choose to live
I'm no-ones savior
and I don't need one either
I'm just paving my paths
instead of walking the worn ones
Writing new books
instead of dwelling on the old ones
I'm an outlaw
there's a certain chaos in my soul
always only a scratch away
from being caught by
those in control
and so I roam
In every place I go, I'm home
All my causes are worthy
to me, anyway
I'll die young and fast
but I'll be free 'til that day
Like an outlaw
who may then rot in some Buddhist hell
But unlike my critics
and the cynical halfwits
I've tasted the waters
of the sea of myself
and liked it
like an outlaw
an old fashioned fabled
an outlaw
looking for a better way
I'm a renegade spirit
with little tolerance for
the rules and social morals
of a species
I abhor
I'm an outlaw
under the radar and
off the grid
I'd die before I'd apologize
for the life I choose to live
I'm no-ones savior
and I don't need one either
I'm just paving my paths
instead of walking the worn ones
Writing new books
instead of dwelling on the old ones
I'm an outlaw
there's a certain chaos in my soul
always only a scratch away
from being caught by
those in control
and so I roam
In every place I go, I'm home
All my causes are worthy
to me, anyway
I'll die young and fast
but I'll be free 'til that day
Like an outlaw
who may then rot in some Buddhist hell
But unlike my critics
and the cynical halfwits
I've tasted the waters
of the sea of myself
and liked it
like an outlaw
an old fashioned fabled
an outlaw
looking for a better way
http://8020.photos.jpgmag.com/2017303_75957_aa389ba483_l.jpg
ya know
I’m one of them long-rifle kinda guys
but I’ll derringer a teller right between his eyes
be too slow with my damn money
or fidget his hands like a no-count dummy
I’m sayin he best move and move real quick
cause the last thing he’ll hear is my .44 click
and I’ll close his account like heat do snow
cause this lil’ teller goin home no more
just place it in the bag and he better not lag
cause ill shoot ‘em in the face
have the whole bank gag
photo: quenby sheree
~O~
