My midnight thoughts and a Elvis song.
I am drinking alone at 6 pm and the night is going so damn slow and
I drinking the Blue Moon and I fall into the old songs.
Almost 9 pm and I pour a glass of whiskey and a glass of water and
I tell the night. Damn you Kelly, I miss your face, I miss your voice.
Almost midnight and I feel so damn alone and
I dance alone in my kitchen.
Tonight I told the night.
Maybe love, maybe not.
Maybe I have become the forgotten man?
Elvis is singing to me at 1 am and
I tell the glass of whiskey.
Damn you Kelly,
where were you when love was sweet?
Where were you when I yearned for the kiss,
the midnight dance?
Tonight I drink alone and
I have accepted my solitude.
I told the dead poet, John Donne.
Damn your words.
“You don’t find love, love will find you.”
Now the old poet wrote to paper.
When you waste the gift of love,
when you forget the kindness of love.
What do we become?
Coyote
I’m most-enamored of his gospel songs, and much of his work not involving celluloid appearances. One of many major influences to the field of modern rock-n-roll up from its country-rockabilly roots.
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Leftovers The Book of Faces reminded me to add: when the gift of your words become chrysalis in my single-malt memory I know you have engendered another poem as soon as I can catch my fleeing pen and accomplice paper. Thanks, John.
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Elvis songs, can break our heart. Thank you for reading and the comment.
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Reblogged this on Commentary, Outrages, Prose and Poetry and commented:
John Coyote/John Castellenas asks the night and his whiskey glass and dredges John Donne into an aged fray. It takes stamina and steel – not iron! – constitution to confront such questions.
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Thank you my friend.
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