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Desert Marauders

Poetry By: BloodiedBlossom
Westerns



A western I guess. Inspired by The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.


Submitted:Aug 15, 2012    Reads: 28    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


There where the horrizon sets
and dawn breaks into morning
Birds fly up from their nests
to meet the sun's rays
blistering and scorching

There in the shadow of a cactus
Stand two figures, in the blackness
Bearded, shielded from the sun
Round their waists, bottles filled with rain
They stand, they hate upon their heated pain

Fleeing for a reason, never to be told
in their pockets clinging gold
cherishing the prize that they behold
in their pockets, the clinging gold

Two of them, one big, one small
Both starring down the sand where lizards crawl
As their shadow shelter begins depleting
And the sun gets higher in the sky
As their cold hearts heat up, beating
Frown upon the sun, time for travel lingers nigh

As the sand and stones crack beneath their feet
And the heated ground pleads for their defeat
For them to fall and crumble, break on jagged rocks bellow
For them on their feet to stumble, wished by every nearby crow

Fleeing for a reason, never to be told
in their pockets clinging gold
cherishing the prize that they behold
in their pockets, the clinging gold

But they thread through sandy dunes and rubble
Past old posts of war and trouble
Ever seldom take one sip, of precious treasure that they keep
And even rarely when they'd sleep
They'd bury it in the ground beneath, safe down in the chilled cold deep

And eventually they would reach a marker, left by natives long ago
Indicating where water lies, once the world gets darker
An arrow pointing down south west, as the sun was setting slow
Upon arrival, a large wall of rock blocked their path, solid as can be
But water dribbled from it's heart, and in the far distance they could hear the sea

Fleeing for a reason, never to be told
in their pockets clinging gold
cherishing the prize that they behold
in their pockets, the clinging gold

Almost thinking their perils have subsided, but knowing still the truth
They collect the water, heavenly down flowing, from the cracks above
Looking up at the rising cliff, they each take their swallow, defying defeat
Reflecting the sun, is one's golden tooth, they smile and continue on their feet

As the night flows into the dry sea of sands
The nightly predators hunt their prey
But never decieved by the fire burning, the works of man's hands
They keep hunting past the camp, where two men kneel down to pray

Their god they ask, to spare their lives
To make them happy and survive the constant thirst
To once again see their children and their wives
Working on a farm somewhere, digging up bone dry dirt

Fleeing for a reason, never to be told
in their pockets clinging gold
cherishing the prize that they behold
in their pockets, the clinging gold

Not haunted by what they did not many nights ago, the two men fall asleep
Dreaming of the luxuries and the morning sun's glow,
Yet a thunder storm, not bearing rain, raged upon their sleepless skies
Forever haunted by the secrets that they choose to keep
Choose to live in exile and in constant lie

As the sun had risen, of they went across the sands again
Thrashing through the many sandy hills, and many rocky slopes
To forever quench their thirst, to reach their destination
To leave that place of hell, the devil's sand and rotten stony souls
To wake up from this scorching nightmare, to reach salvation

Fleeing for a reason, never to be told
in their pockets clinging gold
cherishing the prize that they behold
in their pockets, the clinging gold

Soon enough their wish is granted
Soon enough they wish to take it back and curse it
For as the small town appears on the horizon, there on the ground are planted
Soldiers stern in their horses saddled high, in arms and uniform
As they march toward them, sickly panic overcomes them, like a thunder storm

They run with all the strength left in their tired limbs
Back into the hell from which they came
At the beginning it seemed worth the risk of being caught and hanged
They ran as fast as the wind it seemed, but they were shot down all the same

Falling slowly, lifeless and cold
in their pockets clinging gold
It would be alright, themselves they told
in their pockets clinging gold
They would live a life, and grow old
in their pockets clinging gold
Blacknes, darkness, and out it rolled
out of their pockets, the stolen gold







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