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#1 |
Storyteller
Join Date: May 2020
Posts: 446
Battle Record: 8-4
Champed - Guerrilla Writing League
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Another blast from the past from my RB days. Although the title hasn't exactly aged well....
... ... ... ... Enjoy! Corona & Lime The bar was caked in dust, a relic of a passing age Sunlight peered through grimy windows in a blast of rays And illuminated the scenery in a tapestry of memories Light played on the piano and it's bullet-ridden keys It was the last place, they said, the Ridley brothers stood In a shoot-out with the sheriff and his extended brotherhood The swizz cheese walls tell a story of true determination Of yesteryear Robin Hood's and their boozy altercation They had 6 bank's, 4 trains and 5 liquors store's to their name Chased across a dozen states; an endless war or a game? Their enemy's were in sight now, chasing their dusty trail Visualising a noose after jail, no hope of a bail They bully-footed to a liquor house, shooting the chandeliers Screaming "Everybody out!" A last stand to last for years But there was no chance for an exit, pursuers closed quickly Opening up like artillery on the building so swiftly Jebb, the piano player was the first to die His back exploded outwards with an unearthly cry Bob and Jess hit the windows with retaliatory action But outnumbered 10 to 1 they could only kill a fraction And in a gory fashion they saw the bar annihilated Every soul sent Heavenwards as metal penetrated Jess stifled a shriek as his brother fell, face obliterated "Bobby!" Of course, no response, death was clearly demonstrated And it seemed the fire doubled, Jesse kissed the floorboards He crawled passed the bodies of the clientele, bartender and poor whores And in the hail, Jesse reported himself to the bar A last request for alcohol before the shrapnel scars A lone bottle of corona rested on odd shaped shelves With an aged lime to squeeze like a spice from the Gods themselves He took a sip, pure ambrosia, sweet as ever tasted A last gasp of freedom for a man who never made it Then glass shattered in his hand as a stray shot passed through it Buried itself in his gut, his life at last ruined Blood smeared his lips as he emptied the chambers His gun clicked empty on the men he could blame this A second shot hit his temple, he dropped to his knees As if in worship, but a grave's now where he take his ease And as the ballistics ceased, and the lawmen invaded They found the bodies of the outlaw's in enough blood to bathe with They saw the splinters of the bottle and were knowing, in time That a dead man's last request was for corona and lime Leave feed and I'll rtf. Last edited by Johnny 6 feet; 05-14-2020 at 09:57 PM. |
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