Outlaw

hints of gloom enter the room
where poetic outlaws sip whiskey
playing games without fears
they plot wars without frontiers

bullets spin in the chamber
love's cocked and loaded
waiting for a itchy trigger finger
to let the sliver hammer fall

I heard a ventriloquist practicing
with his wooden child sitting on his knee
staring off in the distant horizon
but who is the real dummy

poetic outlaws speaking in rhyme
so grizzled from the bourbon
their breath reeks of turpentine
cocks his shooter, shotgun wedding

and a skelton's kiss