Saturday, December 17, 2016
I wrote a letter, crumpled it in a tin can and struck a match to burn it down.
I read some old books and lived a vague little surface life.
Anxiously I paced through the crevices of my mind.
My new adventure was dawning and with no time wasted I was packed and moved to a frigid little valley.
Oh I went insane for awhile, took a mental walkabout.
It was exciting really, good for the soul to be a little strung out.
I stumbled sleeplessly through a month of my life, calving 7 to 7's-nights.
It was touch and go for awhile, then I quit the coffee and went on the fight.
One sunny day in May,
I turned my yellow horse out to a snowy pasture blanketing the mountain side.
In waving flowers, beneath a romantic blue sky I took shallow roots to reside.
And there I got ahold of some harder lessons in life.
I dragged my tired ass in and out of bed, worked, played, cried, prayed and bled.
My scattered little mind was lost and found then lost again.
I stumbled upon a couple loves to be lost and still I have no advice to lend.
I taped up rope burns on what should've been feminine hands and buried them deep in denim pockets.
I met a determined set of blue eyes and a fierce set of brown.
We were so dead set on life; there'd be no one could take us down.
Nursed my wounds, lost some weight and lost some sleep.
Learned just how much that I could take, and went rolling in the deep.
For the first time in my life I stood up for myself a time or two.
I spent more than one night staring at the stars, listening to a coyote call and looking for some sort of clue.
I found a bigger smile than I'd ever worn before.
With sore muscles, big dreams and a broke horse beneath me, I could of swore that's what I'd been born for.
Waged war against my own mind and dug a little deeper to see where my breaking point did actually lie.
I lived in a pocket of heaven that God held close in his palm.
He rocked me there as I struggled through the storm.
I rolled my bedroll just as a gypsy would instruct.
I then proceeded to pile my shit into a twenty year old truck.
And now, with a cup of coffee in my hand, I'm telling you my story, my saga of the land.
I ran, I fought, I tried.
And somehow rattling in my bones, I know I'm still chugging on the uphill slope.
Saturday, October 15, 2016
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
The problem is I find it rather easily.
I hope you do too.
Because trouble is wrong.
And unfortunately, wrong usually tastes good.
So live wild and slow, don't let it all slip too fast.
Take a deep breathe and give long kisses.
Sit on the edge of a lake bed and watch each little wave kiss the shore line.
Promise yourself that someday you'll wiggle your toes in real ocean sand.
Grow your hair out too shaggy and rub oil on your temples.
Maybe get a little hippie.
Be so much you that the weak hearts just can't handle it.
Kill the bad vibes.
Wake up too early just to watch the sun wink at your sleepy eyes.
Listen for the morning birds start to call to their lovers.
Just like it calls to your soul.
You're gonna be alright.
Drink too much,
make a story.
Love too much,
you won't regret it.
Kiss too much,
just cause you can.
Feel every last little emotion,
deep and fierce.
Tuesday, September 20, 2016
They looked over us hobbled out while we sprawled across a bedroll in the sun.
She had her arm laid over my back.
I think we were somewhere between sleep deprived and wired red hot.
I rode in behind her.
I've always been my hero's little shadow.
She'd smile and I'd hang on every word she said.
Always hoping to grow up to be half the woman she's been.
I had a calf at the fire grinning through white teeth and chapped lips.
She was all business looking up at me through blue eyes.
I washed sand and grit out of her hair when her hands were all rope burned and taped up.
I've wiped her tears and hung my arms around her little shoulders.
She's been the whispering voice on the other end of my sobbing late night calls.
We were swapping sweaters and stealing necklaces with big cheesing grins.
She was chewing my ass out behind the barn and I took it with gritted teeth.
I had bruises down my arm and tears in my green eyes,
but those didn't hurt me near as bad as they hurt her.
She has more fire in her than the sun and the most tender heart.
We were horseback and laughing louder than the wind with rawed up cheeks.
I had my arm linked in hers following her around, you know, the way little sisters do.
And whether we knew it or not we were always free, her and me.
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Hands weighed down by silver rings.
I took matches to what paper trail was left of us.
Us? What us.
Sun bleached hair, guess I'm a blondie once again.
Take it for what it is.
Tanned up skin.
Scars and broken hearts, welcome me into your arms.
New books, old stories.
Woke up early, stayed up late.
I thought I'd have more to say.
So here's a good luck wish and kiss for all the big endeavors you may find.
Saturday, August 13, 2016
First I would tell about the long kisses and free spirits.
Then about all the places we roamed.
I could go on about how we lived wild and fast; like we'd never know regrets.
I would thank the ones who once held my heart.
Tell them how pretty the stories were that they made for me to write.
I'll say a silent prayer for them and remember the times when we weren't apart.
Funny how dirty the past can bite.
I'd tell you about the one that gave me bruises and the one that gave me a ring.
I could tell you about the wiry ones that had wild and wooly stories to tell.
There was one so fierce, on fire, he all but gave me wings.
And a few that maybe I ought to have told to go to hell.
There were so many horses that danced between our knees.
We were fearless and dumb with only the end story in mind.
Living life like adventure was all we'd ever need.
We wanted to be remembered as some heroic, gypsy kind.
If only the pictures did justice to all the country we saw.
And I wish you could meet all the people we were.
My trusting heart and the late night phone calls.
The big promises, high hopes and ultimate heartbreaking failure.
I'd write about how the most tragic of my love stories is the shortest of them all.
There for a second then gone as hard and fast as the Wyoming wind.
I'd tell you about the bittersweet goodbye.
One last kiss and three silver tears, neither of us could stay in one place long enough to watch them fall.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist.
Dark eyes that smiled into mine.
The day he met me I had dust in my braid.
I guess everything comes in God's time.
I'd tell you all of these stories then remind you I'm just 19.
So this "love" is all new to me.
A beautiful and dangerous thing.
Maybe sometimes no more than a rainy midnight dream.
And finally I would pencil in that Atticus must have known about me when he wrote,
"They were strange in love. Too wild to last, too rare to die."
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
New beginnings, the first hello.
Awkward handshakes, big dark eyes.
Broke horses playing on their checkerboard beneath us.
My braid all tangled with dust.
Lost loves still dragging on coattails.
Forever clutzy and staring at the clouds.
Long ropes, tarnished bits.
Big dreams and open hearts.
Your smile, my blushing cheeks.
Sun tanned skin, rope burned hands.
Two deep conversations and one long kiss.
Silver rings, horsehair lacing my fingers.
Dust on your face, a ripped shirt sleeve.
You carried a story with you.
I could see it from a mile away.
Reckless memories and fears that stop you in your footprints.
Tell them to me.
First wink, your arms wrapped around me.
Twirl me around.
Cowboy love story.
Forever lost and forever found.
Sunday, June 26, 2016
Mostly just spitting angry words at the sun.
Life's rough, knives cut.
Fear or be feared.
Bleed or draw blood.
I shouldn't encourage your willingness to cause pain, but damn is it better than feeling it.
Trust me; I know.
I've got welts on my hands and memories of cigarette kisses in bars.
Stayed up half the night tipsy on Jack.
Felt like hell in the morning with dragon breath and half a name left.
Running reckless and fearless dying to feel something.
I've got a scar below my left eye and an old rope burn across my arm.
Crying old tears, ones that should've spilled years ago but I'm too stubborn to let go.
Let me just tell you a thing or two...and I'm fully aware of how little I know, but still
Here's the thing, I want you to live life really full.
And really free.
I want you to know a real love.
One that comes with good morning kisses and shoulders that are actually there for you to cry on and lips that are yours to kiss.
A love that doesn't ditch you in a metaphorical dark alley with nothing but a cheap dress and wine on your lips.
I want you to have good memories.
I get it. Pain comes, I have the bruises.
But you have the right to own your scars.
You've been bloodied up and choked out, you've been caught in the abyss.
You're still standing though.
Your arms, though they may be weak are still upright bearing the weight of your try.
Your heart is still pounding out of your chest with a loud, earth shattering call.
And look how tough you must be.
The most badass thing you'll ever get to say is "I lived."
I swear I lived full, hard and fierce.
With wind burning my eyes and blood trickling down my cheek.
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
I don't want to hear you say you can't.
I'm not going to let you lie there in misery.
Get your ass up and if you want it, get it.
No one is standing in your way, and if they are box your way out.
Life's much too short to only dream.
You need to live.
And it may not be smart, it may not be pretty but if it's what you crave, it's what you need.
Don't die without a story.
Don't survive without scars.
Pain is a beautiful thing.
If you want an adventure, create it.
Run free if that's what you need.
Be a child of reckless wanderlust.
Be an architect, be a mechanic.
Be a gypsy.
Be a cowboy.
Just whatever you do, make damn sure your heart is in it.
Sunday, May 29, 2016
Look up, look around, it's all okay now.
Let me see the light in your eyes.
Then tell me all your secrets, save all your lies.
Shivering fingers and scarred, sunburned skin.
Hoof beats whispering, calling louder the closer they come.
Long strides, big country and tired eyes.
There's a lot of things running through my mind.
Like horses and whisky.
The moon and you.
Tell me a good story.
Burning our pains with good vibes and kisses goodnight.
I hope you don't cry too hard and I hope you keep a soft heart.
I hope you never let anyone break your spirit.
I hope you don't become a slate for others to etch upon the bad habits they learned in a broken home.
Get tough and stay tough.
Be the right kind of beautiful.
The kind with Jesus in your heart and love in your eyes.
You can get weak, it's okay. I've been there and it's ugly.
But stay true, you really can get through it.
I promise you that. I really do promise.
Sunday, April 24, 2016
Wednesday, March 23, 2016
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
The ones that taught our daddies to rope and ride the rough off rank ones.
Cowboys that saw the West in its raw.
Wearin six-guns in their belts.
Here's to the old boys ridin devious bastards tied hard and fast.
The ones who ran with "The Kid."
Here's to Tom and Bill and their canny knowledge of the horse.
The ones that took a rook under their wing and taught him the ways; the ones that took me in.
Here's to the ones who never thought they were as handy as they could be.
The ones who were always green in their own minds and wisdom hungry.
To the ones who never quit.
The ones that cried and bled and sweat.
Here's to the ones that held a baby's hand toddling to the corrals.
The ones who made careful that their honey's horse was broke.
The ones always lookin out for each other.
Here's to the legends that set the standard for the cowboy.
The legends with soft eyes and gentle spirits.
The ones who gave us a respectable reputation to uphold.
And last of all, here's to the horses.
The buckers, the gentle giants, the snaky souls and the ones who stole and hold our hearts. Here's to the ones who came before us.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
But I want to remember the good things. I want you to hear the good things, the too cool memories that revisit me in dreams.
I remember the colts, they were cranky and it was a cold winter. The barn was always this musty, dirt-loomed air of a place, so dark. I learned so much. The tack room was old and crowded with gear accented by one broken, wooden chair to the left of the door.
There was this night with a full moon lighting up the desert and a purple sky. Calves were bawling and the horse beneath me was solid and young. We doctored calves under the stars. It's such a simple thing but it was perfect.
I love the exhausted, accomplished feeling at the end of the day. I loved last summer. I spent too much time going too hard out in the sun. The headaches and soreness were more than worth it. I woke up with my body stiff and I dreamed about lead changes and big stops.
Wet saddles blankets make me feel good. I love the smell of horse sweat. I buried my face in yellow mane before I went to bed.
I remember hair in my face and the wind blowing like crazy and it should have been somewhat miserable but I loved it. My hand was warm and all that was left of my poly rope was a greased snake. My arm hurt and I loved it.
I've stood so many times with coffee in my hand looking out the window at horses standing cock-hipped and dozing off. It thrills me in a quiet way.
I like trotting out into a chilly summer morning on broke horses with my sister by my side. I remember just giggling and cracking jokes cause that's what you do when you're at home. And we were at home. Out there in the sagebrush with our sunburned hands, bouncing braids and broke horses; that's become our home.
I hope you have some hella good memories. There's always more to them than you can say, a feeling that follows those thoughts around, cherish that. Those are the very best kind.
Monday, February 8, 2016
You've got rights to being a bad bitch.
You've earned those scars and the reputation you have, whether they be good or bad.
You gave up some hard earned salt water on those cheeks of yours and you let that red drip to the ground out of your veins.
You taught yourself to fly on wings with broken feathers.
And you did it with gumption.
I don't make a habit of telling lies.
I've been told far too many to do that to someone else.
So really trust me on this one.
There's a lot to learn when you get beat up.
And when you get hurt, deceived, lied to.
There's a lot to learn about trusting.
And you will trust the wrong person once or thirteen times.
But you're learning how to fight.
You're better than the liars who gave you those gnarly beauty marks you wear.
You're far better than the cowards who had the guts to cross you.
You've got the right to get bloody pissed.
There's gonna be some pretty smiles and they'll screw you over but you're better than that too.
Hold your head up and if it comes down to it, fight dirty.
You've got the right to be a bad bitch.
Saturday, January 30, 2016
- Wicked Twisted Road by Reckless Kelly
- Wrong's What I Do Best by George Jones
- Bad Reputation by Mike Ryan
- Texas Was You by Jason Aldean
- Guinevere by Eli Young Band
- Ain't No Rest For The Wicked by Cage The Elephant
- Angel by Shaggy
- Could You Be Loved by Bob Marley
- Elvira by The Oakridge Boys
- Hurt So Good by John Mellencamp
- I Lived by One Republic
- One Call Away by Charlie Puth
- Parachute by Chris Stapleton
- She's Like Texas by Josh Abbott Band
- Your Love by The Outfield
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
But I've all but decided against it.
I have nothing to sell, nothing to prove and nothing to preach.
I'm just here in case you need me.
To say that I've been there and felt that shitty, or that high.
I'm just here to get a laugh out of you and maybe sometimes a tear.
To tell you about my love of red dirt music and a couple tragic love stories.
I don't need to tell you who to be, what makeup to wear or what ropes to use.
I'm not trying to get you to use the same splint boots as me or wear your hat in the same crease.
That's not my place, that's all you.
All I'm doing is telling a story and showing off pictures of my gnarly rope burns which isn't really showing off...I really gotta get to the horn faster.
We're just laughing about cheap liquor and drunk kisses. The kind you regret.
Having a laugh about bad judgement and immature choices.
I'm just talking about fire and wind and blood and love.
There's no need for me to take this any farther or try to make a business out of talking to you.
I'll try not to screw it up, or take it too far or get too lost.
"Don't be eye candy, be soul food."
And with that, peace out friends.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
We can't choose what happens to us, no, but we can damn sure choose who we are.
You don't have to go by what anyone thinks of you.
Can you imagine if we all really were what has been said about us?
So make something good. Have some pride in yourself.
Have a little faith in your gut feeling.
There's too many weak souls out there that just won't hold their heads up.
We've all had one or two knives pressed against our throats at one point or another.
We trusted the wrong person about 3 too many times.
But we get to choose who we are. We get to heal our old wounds and do our best to move on.
That's our choice.
We get to say goodbye.
Don't let anyone tell you any different.
Go kick some ass buttercup.