The following poems are written by, and dedicated to the memory of, Russell Streur (1954-2023), the publisher of The Plum Tree Tavern and The Camel Saloon, who recently passed away. Not only was he a great publisher, but he was a great writer, poet, photographer, mentor, husband, father, and also, a good friend. He will forever be the best barkeep of the underground poetry scene. 
His words below were previously published in The Best of The Beatnik Cowboy Volume 1, as well as The Beatnik Cowboy website. We hope that you will enjoy. Cheers 

   

BECKON HILL

Saigon fell
And still too young for bars
Annette and Cumberland   

Climbed Beckon Hill     
And smoked away the afternoon
With a couple joints

Promised to each other
Forever to stay high
And sealed that vow

With a shotgun kiss
Until the future unfolded into the past
From the projects to the nether dunes

And she flew too near the moon
Playing dice left-handed
With Circe and the crones

And he flew too near the sun
Bowling with the Devil and his crew
Chasing stones in the South of France

And all those years
In the upper atmosphere
Took their toll on bone and lung

Now she is singing underwater
And cannot catch her breath
In the sea off Samothrace

And he cannot take another step
Legless in Cyrenaica
Crippled in Saharan waste.




BIG BILLY WADE

 
The sins of the father
Do not fall upon the son
Up here in the oaks and the knocks
Of Dawson County Georgia

Big Billy Wade
Tells us so
And Big Billy Wade
Is a man of the cross and the gun
And he knows a thing or two
About the mysteries of the world
And the water and the robe

Big Billy Wade
Isn’t losing any sleep
Over the massacre of the Creeks at Autosee
The Shoshone on the Bear
Or the bullets in the back
Of Spotted Elk and the Lakota at Wounded Knee

And the sins of the father
Do not fall upon the son
Up here in the pines and hollows           
Of Dawson County Georgia

Big Billy Wade
Tells us so
And Big Billy Wade
Knows a thing or two
Beneath the hood
About the machinery of the world
And Ezekiel’s sword

Big Billy Wade
Isn’t losing any sleep
Over April Fourth
369 years of the slave trade
Or anybody last name X 
Bleeding out on West 165th

Big Billy Wade
Is comfortable
In his skin.




SERAFINE ROSE DANCES FOR THE TSAR OF ALL RUSSIAS

Serafine Rose pulls up her hair
With a red gancho
Lets fall
A thin black dress

Wearing coral on her toenails
Silver links around her waist
And nothing else
Dances for the Tsar of All Russias

Staring with green eyes
Into his blue
Thus unveiled
To a very slow waltz

Like fingers around his throat
Searching for bone.


 

BUSINESS AS USUAL NUMBER 2

Benefit design.
New turf.
Algae bloom.

Global weakness.
Data breach.
Deportation.

Shared needle.
Razor blade.
Closed circuit.

“There’s a trade off,”
The executive said.
“The cost goes up somewhere else.”

Some glimpse of salvation.
Automatic override.


 

EVENTS OF THE DAY

Leslie Narum homers in his first at bat.
Eddie Murray homers.
Charlie Macwell hits four in a row.
Willie McCovey homers in his last at bat.

The Old Man in the Mountain topples over.
The British execute Patrick Pearse.
The British execute Thomas McDonagh.
The British execute Thomas Clarke.

San Francisco burns.
So does Jacksonville.
Egypt seizes the Sinai.
The silver fleet sets sail.

Byron swims the Hellespont.
Goya paints.