Chapter 5 - Cowboy Eternal
Submitted July 9, 2011 Updated July 13, 2011 Status Complete | Ron Koppelberger App 232 Words
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Chapter 5 - Cowboy Eternal
Chapter 5 - Cowboy Eternal
Ron Koppelberger[br]
will806095@bellsouth.net[br]
[br]
The Natural World[br]
The outrage of feeble dreams and ancient forerunners in portent, awe inspiring Slug Worthy thought. A magnificent, spontaneous style he thought; morose yet brilliantly perfect he considered. A concocted allegiance of puzzling stones and bone dust elementals in desire, he thought in deepening interest. [br]
The photograph of Stonehenge lay before him in lurid gray granite and twilight horned moon backdrop. A portrait in the natural environs of an unabiding desire, a stolid proof one might touch, roughhewn in obelisk concentric, Stonehenge the purveyor of the impossible and all within the conveyance of a most natural conclusion. It was a mystery in the natural world, dark bidden horizons in time, in breaths of old taboo and modern dreams. [br]
He considered one of the boulders laying atop the pillars. Slug saw himself in grandiose poise, perched atop, screaming to the heavens in wild rebuke to the natural world, to taxes, to bidden beasts of burden. He thought of screaming in revolt to the tall sky line edged in skyscraper stain and littered by the human debris of modern existence. He thought of screaming and a gulping gasp, a gorge of anger filled his throat.[br]
Stonehenge, he said aloud …come to me in stars and alliances of ancient wonder, vanguard of the shadows and asylum for the pilgrim….ohhhhhhhh Stonehenge!. Slug caressed the glossy photograph and sighed. The natural world upset the ballest of dreams and dusty mists in legacy of what lay ahead, the myth of forever. Ohhhhhhh Stonehenge, he exclaimed in passion and tears, …..what secret unbidden, what desire untold by the wishes of primitive wont and wild desire. Ohhhhhh great circle of gray and twilight, what compassion do you dare me, what compassion for the graces of my quest, my journey to the nights fray' he questioned with flailing arms and tears, tears of need and lost lives in rendition of old times and the youth of a new world. [br]
Slugs tears ran in rivers and eventually the picture became blurry and damp, paper and dimples of moisture. Slug somewhat overwhelmed by the illusion and his delirium passed out and slept for nearly two days. When he awoke he sighed deeply and thoughtfully; looking at the bottle of Irish whiskey he vowed the oath of reborn will. The picture of Stonehenge lay bare and stained, long forgotten in disregard to Slugs consciousness. [br]
The desires of city streets and shopping malls called to him and somewhere, cuddled away, [br]
[br]
nuzzling his old desires, the warm cascade of whiskey tumblers and rhy thirsts awaited like a [br]
[br]
sleeping tiger.[br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
Ron Koppelberger[br]
will806095@bellsouth.net[br]
[br]
Mismatched Blood[br]
Fury and overfed wraths of beckoning mayhem whiskered the wolfs slumber with the temper of bitter cream, curds in sour blood, the flesh of a dazed chafe and mazy portent. The wolf dreamed and in firebrand agitation, forward unto mismatched blood, a type of fury and unbidden allure in fuzzy goosebumps and ecstasy, all bliss and desire. [br]
He dreamed of her, snarls and growls, howls and grumble-rumble convocations in yellow eyed consent. Fine-spun futures in flame and ash, in cinders and burning accent, he dreamed and in that dream he found release, release unto the elder gods of freedom and hunting passions. He dreamed of his mate, the mismatched blood, the contradiction in fanged arrays of whelp offspring, Good seed, she whispered to the dreaming wolf, Good seed my husband. He saw jet black in twilight shadow and silhouette of an absent sun, black and devouring with an acquired embrace, a gentle surrender to the charcoal fur and clawed ambiance of the female. A dark peck and a wicked pact with the ancient alliance the midnight demons of err. She cooed in his mind and all the substance of ethereal futures revolved around him in delirious celebration, Evermore my love, evermore. The wolf shuddered at the bad blood and the mismatched assurance of scarlet terrors and bloody heedless wont. He fought the urge to yelp in tangled scratches of wire, screaming and oblivious pulling him closer to the edge of desolate abandon. He fought and when he awoke he remembered the mists of what might be, he remembered the chase and the hunt, the divine satisfactions of an angel in alabaster feather and gossamer contrast. He remembered love and the promise of Eden.[br]
Yawning and tasting the cool dawn airs of morning-tide life, he thanked the heavens for the start [br]
[br]
of a new day and the treasure of insight. Straight forward. he thought, Moving in paw sure [br]
[br]
paths toward the divine. He soon forgot the mismatched blood and prayed, otherwise unaware[br]
[br]
of the currents, the fates that guide wolves and man. He strode ahead and into the fable of [br]
[br]
cerulean skies bought by daybreak sunshine.[br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
Ron Koppelberger[br]
will806095@bellsouth.net[br]
Cowboy Eternal[br]
Vast shimmering clouds of mist, thick in sheets and moist blankets of slowly moving shadow, chased and flirted with the edge of the frayed desert horizon. Bully Scrap moved closer to his fate, the reward, or perhaps the punishment that lost cowboys and desert wolves, coyotes and saddle sore survivors were destined to endure, forever, lasting as long as a snakes unwearied name; thus the temptation to unknown pass, to vistas of discovery, dreams and wonted adventure. [br]
The horse moved in slow steady rhythm and Bully coaxed the wind, parables and the promise of mysterious deliriums. Bully borrowed the courage of sagebrush riders and stallions in abeyant purpose as he entered the mist, the eye of the tempest and the point of no return. [br]
The flow of warm summer rain fell on Bullys shoulders and the mist abated to reveal sunshine and sporadic rain, the sweet season, the blossoms of a lush sylvan wild and a riddle borne by the sky and the clear lines of youth. [br]
Bully cried and prayed, thankful, accepting the newness of his soul and the fresh breath of an [br]
[br]
unraveled whisper. To be reborn in castes of sunglow dew, by the distance between here and [br]
[br]
the past. Bully looked toward the orange fire of a nascent sun and an azure heaven. Cowboys [br]
[br]
commune he thought, cowboys commune. Gently he spoke, I have a wish to labor, onto the [br]
[br]
light evanescence of the river, thereby I live, thereby I live for the next horizon. [br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
will806095@bellsouth.net[br]
[br]
The Natural World[br]
The outrage of feeble dreams and ancient forerunners in portent, awe inspiring Slug Worthy thought. A magnificent, spontaneous style he thought; morose yet brilliantly perfect he considered. A concocted allegiance of puzzling stones and bone dust elementals in desire, he thought in deepening interest. [br]
The photograph of Stonehenge lay before him in lurid gray granite and twilight horned moon backdrop. A portrait in the natural environs of an unabiding desire, a stolid proof one might touch, roughhewn in obelisk concentric, Stonehenge the purveyor of the impossible and all within the conveyance of a most natural conclusion. It was a mystery in the natural world, dark bidden horizons in time, in breaths of old taboo and modern dreams. [br]
He considered one of the boulders laying atop the pillars. Slug saw himself in grandiose poise, perched atop, screaming to the heavens in wild rebuke to the natural world, to taxes, to bidden beasts of burden. He thought of screaming in revolt to the tall sky line edged in skyscraper stain and littered by the human debris of modern existence. He thought of screaming and a gulping gasp, a gorge of anger filled his throat.[br]
Stonehenge, he said aloud …come to me in stars and alliances of ancient wonder, vanguard of the shadows and asylum for the pilgrim….ohhhhhhhh Stonehenge!. Slug caressed the glossy photograph and sighed. The natural world upset the ballest of dreams and dusty mists in legacy of what lay ahead, the myth of forever. Ohhhhhhh Stonehenge, he exclaimed in passion and tears, …..what secret unbidden, what desire untold by the wishes of primitive wont and wild desire. Ohhhhhh great circle of gray and twilight, what compassion do you dare me, what compassion for the graces of my quest, my journey to the nights fray' he questioned with flailing arms and tears, tears of need and lost lives in rendition of old times and the youth of a new world. [br]
Slugs tears ran in rivers and eventually the picture became blurry and damp, paper and dimples of moisture. Slug somewhat overwhelmed by the illusion and his delirium passed out and slept for nearly two days. When he awoke he sighed deeply and thoughtfully; looking at the bottle of Irish whiskey he vowed the oath of reborn will. The picture of Stonehenge lay bare and stained, long forgotten in disregard to Slugs consciousness. [br]
The desires of city streets and shopping malls called to him and somewhere, cuddled away, [br]
[br]
nuzzling his old desires, the warm cascade of whiskey tumblers and rhy thirsts awaited like a [br]
[br]
sleeping tiger.[br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
Ron Koppelberger[br]
will806095@bellsouth.net[br]
[br]
Mismatched Blood[br]
Fury and overfed wraths of beckoning mayhem whiskered the wolfs slumber with the temper of bitter cream, curds in sour blood, the flesh of a dazed chafe and mazy portent. The wolf dreamed and in firebrand agitation, forward unto mismatched blood, a type of fury and unbidden allure in fuzzy goosebumps and ecstasy, all bliss and desire. [br]
He dreamed of her, snarls and growls, howls and grumble-rumble convocations in yellow eyed consent. Fine-spun futures in flame and ash, in cinders and burning accent, he dreamed and in that dream he found release, release unto the elder gods of freedom and hunting passions. He dreamed of his mate, the mismatched blood, the contradiction in fanged arrays of whelp offspring, Good seed, she whispered to the dreaming wolf, Good seed my husband. He saw jet black in twilight shadow and silhouette of an absent sun, black and devouring with an acquired embrace, a gentle surrender to the charcoal fur and clawed ambiance of the female. A dark peck and a wicked pact with the ancient alliance the midnight demons of err. She cooed in his mind and all the substance of ethereal futures revolved around him in delirious celebration, Evermore my love, evermore. The wolf shuddered at the bad blood and the mismatched assurance of scarlet terrors and bloody heedless wont. He fought the urge to yelp in tangled scratches of wire, screaming and oblivious pulling him closer to the edge of desolate abandon. He fought and when he awoke he remembered the mists of what might be, he remembered the chase and the hunt, the divine satisfactions of an angel in alabaster feather and gossamer contrast. He remembered love and the promise of Eden.[br]
Yawning and tasting the cool dawn airs of morning-tide life, he thanked the heavens for the start [br]
[br]
of a new day and the treasure of insight. Straight forward. he thought, Moving in paw sure [br]
[br]
paths toward the divine. He soon forgot the mismatched blood and prayed, otherwise unaware[br]
[br]
of the currents, the fates that guide wolves and man. He strode ahead and into the fable of [br]
[br]
cerulean skies bought by daybreak sunshine.[br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
Ron Koppelberger[br]
will806095@bellsouth.net[br]
Cowboy Eternal[br]
Vast shimmering clouds of mist, thick in sheets and moist blankets of slowly moving shadow, chased and flirted with the edge of the frayed desert horizon. Bully Scrap moved closer to his fate, the reward, or perhaps the punishment that lost cowboys and desert wolves, coyotes and saddle sore survivors were destined to endure, forever, lasting as long as a snakes unwearied name; thus the temptation to unknown pass, to vistas of discovery, dreams and wonted adventure. [br]
The horse moved in slow steady rhythm and Bully coaxed the wind, parables and the promise of mysterious deliriums. Bully borrowed the courage of sagebrush riders and stallions in abeyant purpose as he entered the mist, the eye of the tempest and the point of no return. [br]
The flow of warm summer rain fell on Bullys shoulders and the mist abated to reveal sunshine and sporadic rain, the sweet season, the blossoms of a lush sylvan wild and a riddle borne by the sky and the clear lines of youth. [br]
Bully cried and prayed, thankful, accepting the newness of his soul and the fresh breath of an [br]
[br]
unraveled whisper. To be reborn in castes of sunglow dew, by the distance between here and [br]
[br]
the past. Bully looked toward the orange fire of a nascent sun and an azure heaven. Cowboys [br]
[br]
commune he thought, cowboys commune. Gently he spoke, I have a wish to labor, onto the [br]
[br]
light evanescence of the river, thereby I live, thereby I live for the next horizon. [br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
[br]
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