Saturday, May 2, 2009

Cowboy Poet's Korner

As you may already be aware, The Kreation Korner has been stricken by hardship both economic and mental--so much so we had to hock Percy Stankowski's Krasnogorsk-3 for mescaline money. But we are confident these unfortunate tides will turn. In an unprecedented twist of kreation fate, The Korner has recently received not just a new kontributor but an entirely new genre as well. We are speaking of Steed Stetson--a luminary of the field of Cowboy Poetry. We are well aware that Cowboy Poetry is a subject of much kontention and kontroversy. But alas, we at The Korner aren't ones to pull punches. We're not going to deny our readers top-shelf kreation pay dirt to appease the un-informed, un-kreative hoi polloi. As a third-generation rangeland raconteur, Steed’s mastery of verse reflected on the page is accessible to nearly everyone, whether you are saddling up for the first time or are a lifelong cowboy poethead. Either way, set your insight receptors to "on" and witness a rebirth of The Kreation Kause. Gitty-up:

I’d ride into town off the range on ol’ Martin Horsese
He was getting on in years but he could still hold a trot, God bless’im
The blood-soaked sunset spilled onto otherwise untainted sagebrush
The doggies were asleep—I don’t know why we didn’t just call ‘em cows
Now it was time for me to partake of some well-deserved grub
Inga would burn me a thick one—steak and potatoes
With Clem playin’ contemporary ragtime hits on the Casio, I’d fall into a trance
I’d ask what planet I was on only to hear Dennis Redchukar say, “earth, dummy”
That would kill the buzz—I was paying him to be my sidekick, not to bust my balls
But no matter, I was the biggest pushover this side of hell and I’d be the first to admit it
Soon it would be daybreak and Mr. Sun would over-bake the doughy earth
I’d venture back onto the alkali purgatory, my tongue as scaly as the occasional snake
Even the devil himself would sell his soul for a canteen of cold whiskey
But at the end of the day it was a living and I’d’ve been damned if it weren’t worth it

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