Jazzy Monday and a poem. The damns and the foolish..
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
Austin, Texas bars bring the best and loneliness of people together 
The Damns and the Foolish…
The ways and means committee at the local Tavern sat together in a oasis of gin and whiskey.
Talk of torrid and tarnished love leave us in the sacrament state of loneliness.
I have joined the group of the damns and foolish many month ago. Protection of the long Island ice teas leave you safe.
One quiet and lonely summer night. A Blue Eyes temptress seduced me with offer of warm kisses and splendor of passion.
She left me with a sweet whiskey kisses and a long embrace. She whisper” Never love a woman with her emotion and heart dead and buried.”
When I met her at a poetry reading. She worn a talon of a dead animal.
Her icy and impotent blue eyes left me in a lapse of a placid and upcoming pitfalls.
She told me I was handsome. She whispered” I want a savior.”
Her sultry and preordain lies and stories open up a un-easy and disturbing paradox.
That she slowly open the door to my heart and led me into a wishful and tranquil will to love her.
Her flowing red hair and long legs intrigue me to try to tame her. To create a union of two torrid souls.
She told me” I’m permanent scars and tarnished.” Her tattoos body was a map of her journey. She looks to the moon and sky. Whisper ” Pardon me for not allowing anyone to perpetrate my harden soul.”
I told her. “In the solitude of a vortex. We need to expose our soul and dreams.”
Her eyes burned me with anger. She yelled ” I’m shrouded in hate.
Never will risk shades of love to open my heart to love again.”
I accepted her. Learning every part of her beautiful body. Listen to the story of every tattoo on her perfect and beautiful body.
I never exposed my true feelings to her.
We danced in a raw, risky and a salvage love. We scheme great journeys and dreams of great victories.
On a cold Winter morning. She whisper ” I must depart.” She was leaving in the morning sun.
I told her. I knew the prelude to the story.
I bring her closer. I whisper” I will be here for you when you become lost. And need the mercy of a friend.”
Now I sit with the men and woman at the local Tavern.
I describe a portrait of a wounded Angel.
Coyote
March 2009