High Desert Sky


I call myself a songwriter’s poet

One that thinks modern poetry sounds like shit

One that hates a predictable overused lyric

One that hates perfect people music

I could care less if it’s right to rhyme at the perfect time

Because I’m more concerned about capturing minds

With the perfect storyline about lust crimes

With dead red roses and spilled blood wine

 I took a trip to Austin Texas recently

 I went there without a single preconceived

Completely void of any vacation logic

 Except to chase music and be part of the magic

 I came back after a week suffering from exhaustion

With a aching liver from excessive consumption

 And the unmistakable look of sleep deprivation

But I was overflowing with inspiration and validation

 I didn’t hear anyone play a worn-out cover

 About the bar scene or the perfect lover

I didn’t hear the same old music recipe

That can make a storyteller’s ears bleed

 I didn’t hear anyone trying to be someone in Nashville

 They were all just poets with stories to tell

 Stories that needed to be told with a six string

 Stories that made old cowboys want to Texas swing

Stories that that make you think about life

Stories that can find truth in an elaborate lie

 Stories that weren’t edited by a record label executive

 Who wouldn’t know shit if he stepped in it

 I say God bless Texas

 And all the Texas poets

 Who play the game their way

Who aren’t afraid to say

 Nashville can kiss my poetic storytellers ass

So screw you we love Texas

High Desert Sky
Texas Style Songwriter
And Storyteller Poetry.
© Paul H. Keeler… A Cosmic Cowboy

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