HORSE COCKBURN: A BISEXUAL - SECRET AGENT - PORNSTAR (IN MY MIND)
By: Jake Omstead
Ingredients
Title Shot – Page Act 1
- Page 3
Act 2 – Page 7 Act 3 – Page 13 Act 4
- Page
Epilogue – Page Roll Credits
(Shake and stir, best served on ice)
“Since we cannot change reality, let us change the eyes which see reality.” - Nikos Kazantzakis In loving Memory of Paul Newman, who taught me how to be cool.
Roshni @roshasaurus “I love Horse Cockburn.”
ACT I THE PLOT TO KILL THE COCKBURN
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Horse Cockburn
Daisy dukes Eye patch Leather vest I am sexual Big gut Bigger beard Pistol grip I am fear Lightning strike Cats bite Gangs cry in fear Prepare for the fight I am a spy I am a lover I love sex
I am Horse Cockburn
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Cockburn and Snakebyte
The sheets, Made of gold. Your touch, Made of silk. Your kiss, On my dead eye. Your pulse, Racing with delight. Your heart, Beats much faster. Your knife, Comes for my spine. Your eyes, Wild with delight. Your breath, Silenced with a plunge. My knife, Missing your sternum. Damn you, Trixie Snakebyte.
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Killer of the Toad This disturbance It harms the body Sweat sliding smoothly Blood pumping steadily The hilt of your knife The grip of my gun I wish I could trust you But my master wants blood The bullet streaks in air The knife slices the fog I hear your scream I feel your blade You rise with bloody eye I stay with a pierced lung The demon beckons my name home. I cannot kill the Cockburn… NO ONE CAN. I think I’ve run out of beer.
Burp.
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The Castle of Baron Von Demon-Reagan
Do you hear the crack in the leaves? My heavy boot print in the foliage Your breath is in the air, My knife is covered in red. Why can’t I see through one eye? Because you’re a dick and took it. Now I am back for your eye. Or maybe your cold black heart. Do you think Nazis can stop me? Nazi-Leopard hybrids stand no chance. I am the Horse, I am the Cockburn. I am going to electrocute your soul. Why is my vision fading? The blurred lines of drunkenness fall backwards. I’m back at my kitchen table. It was fun while it lasted.
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ACT II: THE DEMONS OF MONKEY MOUNTAIN
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Horse Cockburn and the Fire on Monkey Mountain There is a fire on the mountain It’s really fucking hot I should have wore the shorter shorts Where is the “Golden Baboon” idol? Why has Demon Reagan brought me here? The fire swells in the distance I singed my penis on a rock This is pointless Fuck this monkey, I’m leaving Someone blew up my boat I must stay on Monkey Mountain….
God dammit
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‘The Burnt Shit Temple Stupid thick forest Mosquito bites all over my ass No sunscreen I’m burnt bacon Bacon sounds really good The cave temple smells like burnt shit I don’t want to go in there But I am here, might as well Get the damn idol Get the hell out of here It’s a trap Bear-Deer hybrids attack I fear the Beers I stab two with my knife I stab a third throw the skull I am covered in Beer I smell like the temple I climb down the rocky steps The “Golden Baboon” lies in front of me I reach for the shiny golden monkey butt “You have arrived…Horse Cockburn” Oh shit, Demon Reagan I left my knife in the Beer “Prepare to DIE” God Dammit
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Horse Cockburn: The Literal and Metaphorical Action of Losing My Scrotum
I awoke tied to a table My legs and arms strapped Kind of kinky actually But this was no pleasure dome “How are you feeling, Horse?” “Eat me, Demon dick.” “Tsk tsk tsk, now now.” A bolt of lightning ran up my spine Demon Reagan had me in his clutches A dark part of the shit temple Tied to this damn table of doom I wish I had my knife “So what now, Reagan?” “Well Horse… its torture time.” “Do your worst!” …He did Hour long segments of Rush Limbaugh Two Kathy Griffin comedy specials The entire Lana Del Ray album My heart and brain wanted to explode “Had enough, mein freund?” “Get bent, demon dick…” “HAHA, look down Cockburn!” Something heavy on my waist… He attached something to me. Not just to me… But my penis… It’s a bomb for my coBAM POW LDNEJDWDENFIEDIEND (Explosion)
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Horse Cockburn: Monkey Island, the Aftermath Strapped To a bed, my hips feel funny. Knife. Still can’t find my knife…shit. Prison. This doesn’t feel like prison. Waist. Heavy, numb, medicated, throbbing. “Sir?” Whoa…sexy nurse. OW. “Yeah?” “My Cockburn… you had an accident.” Shit. “What kind of an accident?” “Um…” She motions to my….oh no. “Reagan…” “You lost your…member…but…” “But…” “We found you a suitable replacement…penis.” “Huh?” “A...Horse Penis…is now…your penis…”
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“What?!?!” Reagan has my eye…and now my cock…. “Sir?” “What, woman?! Cant you see I’m MOURNING!” “But…” She motions to my….oh…yeah… Gigantic. “That is…huge…Mr. Cockburn…. Whoa She closes the door….locks the door Alright
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ACT III: Welcome to the Terror Dome
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The Fight in the Terror Dome Part 1: The Teen Wolf of Wall Street Big room, lots of people. Makes my trigger finger itch a little. Naked women, naked men, a few naked cats patrol. I can see the floor well from the rafters. Snakebyte is here. Of course she is. A party hosted by Demon Reagan. A party for my death. Surprise surprise, dildos. I’m alive, and I am well. I have a new…member…. But I am well. I hop down from the rafters, Right before Reagan makes his speech. “H..Horse Cockburn. You’re alive?” “That’s right Demon Dick.” The crowd seems amused. There is blood on the floor tonight. “Well now…you have bested me Horse.” “You’re god damn right I have. ” A roar in the distance. “But can you best…my pet?” Oh crap. What pet? The door bursts and shatters behind me. There stands a man…wolf…teenager…thing Dressed in a suit, cargo shorts, and vile flip-flops His teeth snarling and bloody already. Not good.
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The Fight in the Terror Dome Part 2: Horse and the Wolf: Battle Royale Rip Slash Bite Tear “OW! Damn dog, no groin shots!” The wolf snarls and shoots for my neck. I stab his side with my knife. He howls to the moon and his master. “Yeah! That’s what’s up! Wild card!” He doesn’t like that. Slash tear bite rip He slashes my chest I am bleeding a lot Stupid pimply wolf Greedy son of a bitch “Where is your strength now, Horse?” Reagan taunts me, his pet cuts me. Gotta think fast. On my feet. I need a plan. Star Wars style. My gun from my belt, My heart racing, Finger itching Gun sliding Teeth chomping. I shot him. I shot him in the throat He howls and jumps. Holy shit I shot him in the throat He cries and bleeds. Reagan watches. Horror fills his perfect face. I stare at and mourn my foe. I smile up at Reagan. “That’s what’s up, Demon Dick.”
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The Fight in the Terror Dome Part 3: The Pursuit He’s gaining Ruffling my garb in the wind Shadows and clicks in my mind Where is he? I can feel his fear. Adrenaline is a drug I click in the shadows. Here I am. His knife cut in my back It bleeds down my spine I can hear his taunting “Where are you?” “Run, Reagan.” Cat and mouse I am not afraid He pissed himself. I pissed myself. I can’t run anymore. One last chance… “I am here, Cockburn!” Surrendering? No, not so easy. I need my knife. The cold grip is ready. “Flash.” A flash! I escape through the blindness. Can’t see a god damn thing. “AHHH!” I threw my knife. It hit. I can feel you….death… “It’s over, Reagan.” “I know…good bye Horse.”
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The Fight in the Terror Dome Part 4: King Cockburn: The Aftermath
I come in carrying his body. Dead, limp, white. The room sits still. Eyes watch my footsteps. I hear Prince playing. “This is your King? Not much of a personality.” The room is silent. Demons and ghouls whisper. I see her curves shake the room. “So Mr. Cockburn… do you accept?” ….oh crap “Accept what, Trixie?” “Your destiny.” The room kneels. I stand on the throne of Reagan. The Demon of Hollywood. I am no king. I am Horse Cockburn.
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ACT IV: ALL ROADS LEAD TO BOSTON
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The Final Solution
Trixie died in 95 Poison in her veins No kids They left a while ago Government left too Can’t support a criminal I never did anything wrong Just led the people who needed me “King Cockburn” I was royalty. I am not that man anymore I am not anything anymore These doctors don’t know. X-Rays don’t say shit. I wonder if she’s watching me. I don’t believe in God anyway. The TV is still on. A fire in Boston. I see a figure in the flames. It looks like…. Can’t be…. Demon….Reagan…. It’s impossible… I pack my coat. I’m going to New York.
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Salem = Hell Green fire melts my car He resurrected witches. Goddamn son of a bitch They scream at my position I hide behind a tree Bystanders’ watch in horror They hear my thoughts They taunt me I feel their screams like nails “You are a piece of shit!” “You are a terrible man.” “I want you to hurt!” My trusty gun. Old and beaten in the years. My muscles creak. I shoot one through the eye She screams and fades into the ground Her sisters want my spine I fire two rounds POP POP Dead hits One last fire strikes my chest. I feel the heat and the burn. My heart goes green I don’t have much time.
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Son of Reagan This isn’t Reagan. We’re standing in TD Garden Home of the Celtics He knows me “I know you Cockburn” “Who the hell are you?” “You don’t recognize me?” “Not with that southern accent” He has his eyes Deceiving and malicious That crooked fake smile I can’t stand the sight “I am your reckoning I am this worlds reckoning Trickle down is no longer Just a mere theory.” “Well that this trickle down You little shit.” My reflexes are slower My knife misses by a mile His bombs strike near me Luckily no kids around He shoots oil in my eyes Blinds me with livid fear “This is the end for you Cockburm.” He may not be wrong. I can feel my heart wanting to explode. This is the last ride.
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Party’s Over We exchange blows back and forth His bombs, my guns Our fears have been realized This is the end for us both I want to die He doesn’t Makes it an even fight He wants me to feel his wrath I put my crotch in his face Feel that wrath The fire is consuming the court All the banners of the Bird burn I hate seeing this sight I punch his teeth in I punch his gut in I break his jaw….in I want him to feel this For Trixie For his Father FOR ME I stick my knife in his belly and rip him down He cries in front of me Just a damn kid Mixed up with vile evil He drops a bomb near my feet I don’t hear it BOOM The cold floor is cold I feel death coming for us both I hope its Trixie Her soft touch guiding me to the light I don’t even believe in the light But I still hope I find one
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EPILOGUE
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Who am I? You don’t know me Nor do I know myself Maybe a beer or two will clear that up I want to feel free and care free That is Horse Cockburn I walk around with the eye patch in my pocket A Jean jacket in my closet And daisy dukes ready to go People choose who they want to see. Am I a man or a super hero? Some days I am both. Addressing myself in the affirmative. Maybe I am both. The life of a confused young male. Wanting to be someone we are not. I feel it in my bones. The slinking suspicion I am higher than human But alas, I am a man The world can’t accept someone like me. A volatile and violent young man. But they can accept Horse Cockburn A hero with a fake cock on a page They laugh, I laugh, and everyone laughs I am on the page. I am the man on the mountain With the knife and the gun When you laugh, we smile Horse and I, together at last. The party is never over.
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Reflection Essay I once stole my friend Roshni’s phone and tried to send a tweet that said “I love horse cock,” but the phone autocorrected the sentence to “I love Horse Cockburn.” And so, the character and my alter ego was born. I decided whilst working on workshops pieces to adopt this character into a piece of poetry. Not just poetry, but a tale of poetry about a character and myself. After reading through the books we were required to read in class, and studying the art of comics more and more, I realized combining the mediums wouldn’t be too difficult, but I wanted this to be more about the words and less about the art. During the course of this class, I watched people write self-reflective poems, during the readings as well, and when our professor read her own work out loud in class. I realized I am not that person. I am not the same openhearted individual who bears his soul in the same way. But I want to be, and during the class I wanted to be. The ideas represented here are of my own, and I wanted my touch and flair to trickle in each section but with conservation. Originally, the plan was to have each page with a powerful and colorful illustration, with a note about what each piece is REALLY about. And then I realized that I didn’t want people to know. These moments are the way that Horse interprets them. My eyes in this piece are the blind ones (aside from certain poems.) The whole point of this collection was to have Horse speak for me about things that I didn’t know/didn’t want to articulate. Horse is a character of flash and fury, I am not such a person (well…all the time.) He is also colorful, and a little more eccentric than I am. But he is also based on my love for movies. And essentially, he is the movie I wish I had the money to make. That’s what this is as well: a movie script. And in a movie script it looks clean, professional, and sharp. When a movie hits a screen, that’s where the explosions and action come from. I chose to let the reader use their eyes and mind as the screen.
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For the writing process, I tried to write these in blocks similar to the way the chapters are set up now. I had to make sure I had stuff for class, so I tried to slide these pieces more into workshop so they would get the most attention in my work. The main idea was for my friends and I to sit at a table while I write these slightly inebriated. I would read them aloud and see if I could make them laugh and understand everything at the same time. I chose to write them prose instead of in a traditional format because I know where my strengths are in the writing. Traditionally I am a short story or comic writer, and with the freedom of paragraphs I am able to convey my words and stories without fear of formatting errors. This may sound like something of a cop out, but I wanted my poems to not only work for myself, but also for the reader. I did experiment however with the different formatting techniques, trying something out of my norm with the typical left side lining poems. My writing is something I am very passionate about. I recently, within the past two years, decided that I wanted to make that my profession. As I began, I realized I was not the greatest. I spent my time practicing my prose and working on my stories for a different kind of audience. Having come to a point where I am very grateful and proud of my short story writing, I realized along the way that I left my poetry a little out to dry. It was/has never been at the forefront of my mind, and I realize now that that was a mistake. At first, I was writing with the hope of impressing my classmates with impressive word play and clever stories about penises. But at the end of the semester, I have come to realize that my writing was merely meant to not only entertain my friends, but help deal with my feelings and emotional contradictions in a manner that was appropriate to myself, and my genre. I changed the way I wrote from impressive lyricism to more of a foreword story telling. Lines and lines of story with word play instead of short bursts with not a lot to offer. This has not only changed my poetry, but I have adapted this
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process into my own writing. I am hoping to expand this collection into one much larger. Who knows, maybe a poem and movie will come out some day with all the world to see Horse Cockburn.
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