Belle Starr: Outlaw looking for love

Belle Starr1

Cole Younger and Belle fell under a spell

that lasted many a day.

He was on the run for things he had done

so they shacked up in a cabin to play.

Soon time was at hand, he rejoined the band,

leaving Belle who started to show.

Soon out popped a girl, who she named Pearl,

and it’s still thought her father was Cole.

The next man to feed, a man named Jim Reed,

a robber just like the last.

The pair up and looted, then quickly scooted,

only to find they spent it too fast.

But Reed’s luck was raw, and he was slow on the draw,

and so he bit the dust.

Yet it was soon found that a new beau was around,

Blue Duck now gave Belle his trust.

Their new gang would hustle the livestock they rustle,

and some would actually say these two did care.

It was proven when Blue Duck ran out of luck

and Belle did more than her share.

He was sentenced to die; the old “hang ‘um high,”

but Belle kept the legal fight going.

There would be no noose; he was eventually cut loose,

but for Belle there would be no knowing.

Not one to tarry, Belle would soon marry

her aka namesake Sam Starr.

But their wheelin’ and dealin’ got them six-months for stealin’,

and their romance was now from afar.

When they left jail behind, right back to the grind,

they always sought a dishonest dollar.

But Sam would soon fall, killed in a brawl,

and Belle found another man to collar.

His name was Jim July, another on the sly,

it was obvious Belle had the itch.

She packed her own gun, joined in on the fun:

today they’d just call her a “bitch.”

But a life of crime dunks a soul in slime,

and there’s always victims who hurt.

So when one is despised, don’t be surprised,

like Belle… to be shot and left in the dirt.

© JW Thomas



Trust from Distrust

sad woman1


building trust

out of the ruins

from the walls of distrust

her history

pain, shame, betrayals

emotion-filled quarry

stolen innocence

a thousand slashes upon her soul

older kin, once thought to be a prince

brick and mortar

hiding tears, embracing chaos

dwelling in darkness with its false sense of order

kids bearing kids

societal tricks, better learn quick

construct the walls, lock the lids

each new love lost

taking chance on romance

but built on distrust; oh, what a high cost

walls grow thicker

settles for joyless marriages

walls now symbols of “no love” sticker

till new love arrives

soul-mate man with heart in hand

says, “tear down walls and love survives”

she takes a chance

willing to bare all

still blocks out the world

but naked to her love

supported by his strength

she learns to stand tall

couple 1

© JW Thomas

Honest Injun


I awoke in L.A.

and was lulled back to sleep

with promise of the American Dream

I was told to work hard

and to save what I made

then my life would be Peaches and Cream


So I worked like a slave

with my eye on the prize;

I held down two jobs while going to school

My first future crumbled

when my first marriage died;

tried to be honest, while others were cruel


Tried to be an “Honest Injun”

but wound-up as the fool

Grandfather tried to warn me

“They will abuse the Golden Rule”

Tried to be an “Honest Injun”

Forgot how the rich man schemed

System’s made by the corrupt

so the rest of us get reamed


My second future fell

wounded in the Army

and finding out the VA is a joke

Next went all my savings

in the crash of oh-nine;

was about to retire but now I’m broke


I was left to flounder

to starve and disappear

while Uncle Sam bailed out the crooked banks

They say that each of us

will get a fighting chance

but the gun they give us only shoots blanks


Tried to be an “Honest Injun”

but wound-up as the fool

Grandfather tried to warn me

“They will abuse the Golden Rule”

Tried to be an “Honest Injun”

Forgot how the rich man schemed

System’s made by the corrupt

so the rest of us get reamed


©JW Thomas

Raping Mother Earth

Mother Earth did not need Freud to come along with words like Oedipus Complex.

She has known, intimately, many men born of Earth with inner desires to wed and bed their mother.

The immaturity of such fantasies foolishly mistake lust for love.

And when rebuffed they respond in infantile manners for that which Mother Earth knows will lead them down a destructive path.

Some go no farther, but many team with likeminded siblings and violently rape Mother Earth.

Greedy, lustful, spoiled children addicted to their deranged desires based on selfish motivation and the misinterpretations of what constitutes treasure, wealth, and the real riches of Mother Earth.

Mother Earth’s daughters are not innocent; they share responsibility for the ongoing rape.

Much of what is ripped from beneath the skirts of Mother Earth – in every orifice and deep within her bowels – is used to tickle the fancy and fashion of women worldwide.

And if they encourage the rape of Mother Earth in order to enjoy the pleasure bought through greed, should they really be surprised when the same childish men rape them?


© JW Thomas

I Salute You! And only You.



Join up and be a man. Join up and see the world. Join up for the adventure. Join up to learn a valuable trade. These and many more PR tidbits still ring in my head. It’s funny; no one ever said, “Join up to stick your hand inside your best friend’s chest cavity in a futile attempt to save him.”

Where was the commercial about only sending us to the shittiest assholes around the globe? To the most god-awful heat and humidity; which was actually sub-zero compared to the hellish and volcanic emotions vomited on us by the locals: and those were supposed to be our allies.

Where was the commercial about the exotic cuisine… both eating and being eaten by? Monkey brains, insect stew, tarantulas, snake, maggoty meat pies, and gallons of blood… to keep you full and enticing to the swarms of kamikaze mosquitoes from the air, and the submariner legions of leeches infesting nearly every putrid waterway you’re forced to traverse.

Where was the commercial about the people you were helping betraying you in every way imaginable? The lovely ladies with soulless black hearts that would tempt and seduce the lonely GIs, only to surprise them with razor-sharp blades placed in their pussies for a sensual mood-killing surprise; or worse, those truly sadistic that would literally bite a mouthful off in the middle of fellatio. Or the men and women that would send their own children wearing the latest explosive fashions into a group of GIs to blow them to kingdom come.

Where was the commercial about “all is fair in love and war?” Which, when translated, meant we were expected to follow the most restricting rules of engagement while the enemy, so-called allies, and any other trigger-happy, booby-trap rigging, motherfucker could make up their own rules as they go, while our Brass-Hats mutually masturbated to please whichever politically correct puppeteers are in power at the time.

America is a country that lies, cajoles, seduces, and manipulates its bravest and finest young men and women to wear the uniforms and bear the burden and responsibility of fighting for our freedoms, and cleaning up the messes around the world that our politicians and corporations continually create or exacerbate for political or financial gain. And yet I still run into people who have no clue why we honor our fallen heroes, or why they should respect anyone that willingly puts on a uniform. Go figure!

To all my fallen brothers and sisters, who understand my rant—I salute you! I do not salute you for this country or its leaders. I salute you for your willingness to bear the burdens, to accept the responsibility, and to sacrifice for an ideal that this country and its leaders have tarnished beyond all repair. I salute you for your youthful exuberance, your dedication, and your professionalism. And, most of all, I salute you for your courage to stay beside your comrades in the heat of battle, to save many of your brothers-in-arms, and to willingly pay the ultimate sacrifice: making sure that it costs the enemy dearly. In short, on this day, I salute you and only you, my fallen brothers and sisters.

So I am Told

proud shadow1

I am a byproduct of civilization

Blood from two of the five

civilized tribes flows in me

So I am told

Tribes of the Southeast

Why is the Southeast not my home?

Because of the Trail of Tears

So I am told



New roots for ancestral kin

So I am told

Why is Oklahoma not my home?

Because of the “New Deal”

So I am told

Placate the politician

Vacate the reservation

Paddy-cake a new direction

Earn more money

Have jingle-jangle jeans

Forget your language

Homicide your Spirit Guide

Be a “real” American

So I am told

A few went to Texas

A few to Southern Cal

Indian maiden finds white-eyed Prince

Indian brave finds white-eyed gal

Broken water sets me free

Born in Long Beach


As far away from my ancestral home

as I can get

without getting wet

So I am told

Separated geographically

Separated culturally

So I am told

But I have lived




and laughed

But never with a true connection to kin

My inspiration to begin again

A byproduct of civilization

So I am told

More often than not – civilization sucks

© JW Thomas



Humans and animals often go to great lengths when the urge takes hold or the need arises. He never looked my direction, just made a beeline for you. I had a bird’s eye view from start to finish. He took the dominant role quickly. You lay prone, submissive, as he hovered beside and over you for ease of access. You were already naked below the waist with a fragrant helping of morning dew on the landscape. He watched your reaction as he ripped open your blouse. The buttons flew in all directions. Then one slice with the knife and your bra was no longer an obstacle. I wondered if you felt the cold steel. Your skin was already flushed. He covered your mouth with his in an impassioned urgency for life and the adrenaline rush. Your breasts undulated like the swells of a stormy sea under the forceful manipulation of his hands. Your eyes had the glassy distant stare of extreme pleasure or pain: ecstasy or death. As one guy watching another I had to admire his ability… and resolve. But, naturally, I was a bit jealous. Yes, just a bit. After all, he’s the second guy I saw you with today.

The first bled out.

Now that the lust of you and he is nearly sated… my blood-lust burns.

staring eyes1

© JW Thomas