BigShoulders

In '25, I spent my time Walking around with hat in my hand. In the tiny Mexican town of Tampico, Just south of the Rio Grande. Well, Tampico, it’s dusty and it’s hot. In the shade, it was 102. And I was asking every American I saw, For some change to see me through. For a fellow named McCormick, I worked on a mining crew. Told us he'd give us eight dollars a day, For each inch of camp we threw. The work was honest and good to have, But when time came round to pay us. He lied and took off with our earnings Till we caught him and made him honest. In the Oso Negro, where I lay my head, With another fellow, name of Cu

Well I'll come meet you at that place you go When you'd rather not feel anything. Parking lot's a little rough and the spots are too narrow. Always takes you more than one swing. I got a lit Marlboro between my lips, it’s my last cigarette. Few feet from the door, I inhale my last and flick it into the snow. Always used to tell me they'd kill me, but they ain't got me yet. You'd smile and laugh and say, "I'm glad," and I'd reply, "I know." But we don't talk so much about where I've gone wrong. You got your own demons, babe, you've been fighting them for years. Never got that pretty little head straight, never found where you b

Watermelon wine’ll rust your pipes like my daddy said. If you ain’t loving, you ain’t living so best get busy being dead. And those pills, you know they kill just as sure as the sun. Folks slaving for that paycheck to those sucking on trust funds. Well, I made her business mine ‘stead of minding my own. Beaten down with the gauntlet as soon as it was ever thrown. And it left me broken at home, by my phone all alone. Fade to black meditating to a gin-soaked dial tone. It’s a long drive to Boone County for a barn dance in the fall. You knew you were going before you even took her call. Headlights like hot

Guess I got my answer. Guess you gave what you deserved. Never did I stand a chance or Did I muster up the nerve. Always gave what I thought you needed. Put you higher than myself. Now it’s just like I’ve been beaten. I put my heart up on that shelf. I feel like you’ve become a stranger. You ain’t living like you should. Ask yourself of all this pride and anger; Has it done you any good? I loved you like my sister. Guess in some way, I still do. But that love burns just like a blister. I don’t want any more to do with you. But I’ll be around if you change your mind Another time Maybe we co

Sunny and hot with a mild westerly wind. A man slides open the door to his porch and steps out. Blue coffee cup in hand and an unlit cigarette between his lips. A fawn beige dog follows at his heels and heads directly for the lawn. The man stands at the edge of the deck, toes in the grass, and takes a sip. He scalds his tongue a little, but the first drag always hurts a little before getting better. He watches the hound relieve himself before urgently plodding back towards the screen door. He’s clearly already had enough, whining softly to return to the air conditioned den. The man instead takes a seat in one of the wire mesh ch

Somewhere, right now, Hank Williams is singing. From beyond the grave, his voice filters through Conversations, saturating the air in a jumbled and crowded cacophony. Their words melt together in a haze of disjointed boasts and jokes and pick-up lines Thick as the cigarette smoke and sounds of laughter and the clinking of glasses. Alone, in a booth, a man sits in a sage green polo shirt neatly tucked into his khakis. A long black overcoat hangs on the brass hooks of the booth. He is drinking bourbon, sweet, slow, and burning, all by himself. Just like his heart. He watches the smiling faces of the other bar patrons. Everyone seemingly there f

I feel like the sad clown, expected to dance and sing. Through each fresh horror each new day is expected to bring. Imagine how dumb the audience felt, When they realized it wasn’t performance art, but a cry for help. Losing track of how often I say I will but still won’t. Do I still think this can work this way, “No, baby, I don’t.” Together in a smoke filled room all to ourselves, The record player in the corner sings for someone else. Surrounded by the wreckage of our personal effects, Reminds me of the times we’d fight just to have the make-up sex. Honey, I’ve had a pretty hard life but

never fall in love with a boy who loves his grandmother. he will be too gentle with your lips, too sincere when he whispers blessings into your ears pleading that he doesn't deserve you. his tongue will not slither between your teeth. instead, the heat of his mouth will melt your scar tissue until there is no trace of your travels. never fall in love with a boy who loves his grandmother. he knows patience. you will try to convince him that it is one of the many virtues you don't yet possess, but he will dig through the flesh in your ribcage until he finds it lodged beneath everything you're too scared to confess. he will teach you forg

They say it’s a long way down, There’s a whole other world to fear, Where we’ll lose control and drown; Or at least that’s what I hear. The darkness, they say, is a warning For mankind to avoid at all costs; That in the depths where the light is waning People like us have fought and lost. They say the pit is where our love will lead - That it’s a curse in which we’ll fall, But I see not how my chest could bleed When my love for you stands so tall. So be not afraid of the abyss - If it swallows us whole so be it. Feel my courage in our faithful kiss And let our hearts fall closely knit. They say if we ju

my disposable income is fed to the local pharmacy in exchange for bright coloured lacquer, with rainbow names like 'bo peep' and 'gum bear'. how could you ever feel shame or guilt or sadness with a name like 'candied violet' so adorning your carefully manicured nails? how a cocktail of 'coralicious' and 'tangerine queen' could make you feel like anything but a flamingo? i sleep in the tropics in summer and in the carnival in winter and it shows on my nails. i don't own black. or gray. would you admit that your sweet dreams see the things your waking hours refuse to? would you dare let it slip your lips that

You have a voice. And how you use it is your choice. Do you rear back and roar to penetrate the noise, Or sit there gentle and silent, A picture of posture and poise? You should stand on top of the mountain and shout. Rise up in the pulpit to challenge the devout. Speak wisdom to the wise, fill the certain with doubt. There are countless truths for you to seek out. If its purpose is that of a weapon, use it well. Shatter the darkness in your own personal Hell. Perhaps you’ll speak softly, but still clear as a bell. Be sure to live a life with a story to tell. You have a voice, but don’t forget your fist. That balled quivering t

 Folly Of The RNC Chairwoman by Tricia Pattinson It felt intense Her call to quit Like a child calls out From a nightmare's horror Confused by the times? When affirmative words are silent The people on a nation's page Turn enmasse, acknowledge Were we attacked and Who, if any, gave aide To sink our nation Into the pit of Chaos But she cries for the curtain down The truth to not be found As if our freedom and passion for facts Should be behind an iron wall Laws lead to an orderly life With chaos and horror diminished The children do not in theory wake Where orderly is far away What say you Chairwoman McDaniel To an attack that brought