The Dusty Men

The Dusty Men

 

Four men travel a dusty road

Tight of belt and light of load

Weary feet shuffling slow

Where do the four dusty men go?

 

Man number one is a man named Tom

He never speaks much of where he is from

But he holds the ace of spades with a tear in his eye

As the bright sun sets in the twilight sky

 

Man number two goes by the name of Bert

Wearing the rags of a silken shirt

Early each morning with a flask of gin

He sneaks off alone to quietly sing

 

Man number three is a spry old cricket

Said his friends out west called him Wicket

With gnarly old fingers as light as a breeze

He lifts heavy purses just as easy as you please

 

Man number four doesnt say much

The other dusty men all call him Dutch

They can’t imagine that his road has been fun

For poor old Dutch doesn’t have a tongue

 

Four dusty men travel a dusty road

Tight of belt and light of load

None can ever say if the dusty men know

Where the roads they travel even go

 

©Aarron Mondello

2/11/2018

 

A Horse Thief’s Tryst

By Aarron Mondello

26/12/2017

He came to town for a bit of a tryst
Behind the saloon they cuddled and kissed
Meeting secretly in the bars shadow
He left his hat when it was time to go
He mounted his horse and rode out East
Rejoicing in the feel of the powerful beast
She stood there alone and silently wept
Coveting his hat, a secret kept
Twelve days passed and she saw no sign
Of her lovers lips so supple and fine
The thirteenth day brought events unexpected
When she heard her lover had today been arrested
She fetched his hat and left her house
To bring it to him like a dutiful spouse
She reached the gaol around ten o’clock
And stood outside trying to straighten her frock
She took a deep breath and strode on in
Cast aside fears of their hidden sin
The news she heard warred with her belief
He was to be hung as a rotten horse thief
Four days later, in the town square
Gallows erected, everybody was there
They brought him out with a hood on his head
Ten minutes later her was hung and dead
Now she wears no frock, instead chaps and a vest
And stole a strong horse to ride out west.

©Aarron Mondello2017


Image found

http://www.connectstatesboro.com/news/article/11048/

Sleeping, Creeping, Secrets Keeping

By Aarron Mondello

26/11/2017

The monsters that are creeping
In your dreams while you are sleeping
Slow you, you are weakening
And their strangle hold is deepening

They hunt you through the night
Through your internal plight
You’re too scared to turn and fight
So you keep running for your life

But all the while you’re sleeping
All the while you’re weeping
As these monsters are revealing
All the secrets you’ve been keeping

Somewhere alarm bells ringing
Someone somewhere is singing
Unknown you are flinging
Yourself into waking

Another night has passed you by
Another night of hidden lies
And monsters who truly spy
What lies within your fractured mind.

©Aarron Mondello


Featured image found in this article

https://www.7cups.com/forum/DepressionSupportCommunity_52/DepressionResources_214/NightmaresandHowToManageThem_66919/