Do people have value? A messy, messy world.
( Three more mass killings this week. 81 mass killings in the USA in 2025. Trump said ( Terrible and a shame. He won’t back away from new gun laws.) ( 52,000 Palestine… Continue reading
Monthly Archive: April, 2025
Miss you, need you dear Ann Arbor..
Miss you, need you dear Ann Arbor… ( April is poetry month. New Poem number nineteen.) I am drinking alone beautiful Jenny. Somehow I forgot where Ann Arbor was and I am so… Continue reading
Love and hate..
Love and hate A Poem by Coyote PoetryI wrote this back inn 1993. Young woman wanted everything and nothing. I told her life is long and hard. We must try to be kind. … Continue reading
Red hair ladies..
Red hair ladies.. I told you, best to keep your distance. Red hair beauties are temptation for my heart. I like the drive and energy in your eyes and I want to put… Continue reading
I called your name..
I called your name.. Beautiful lady is weeping for me. I departed for unknown destination. I didn’t know. First tears will take us to weight-full memories and places amidst lonely descended wants and… Continue reading
We are just bones/ flesh and blood waiting to be turn to dust..
We are just bones/flesh and blood waiting to be turn to dust. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Why do we live? I believe a wise person lived celebrating every new born day. We… Continue reading
You are so beautiful..
You are so beautiful.. The paradox of life. We will know more sadness than happiness. Poor Lucy sat alone hugging her Black Velvet whiskey and cussing at her world. I went to her… Continue reading
Please come to me on a Summer day..
Please come to me on a Summer day… The prettiest gal in Texas told me. Please come to me on a Summer day. We can drink the Summer wine and we can dance… Continue reading
Been awhile my friend..
Been awhile my friend… I visit my good friend, the ground was cold and I brought his favorite beer. I take one Budweiser and I leave the five remainders on his grave. I… Continue reading
Hemingway whiskey…
Hemingway whiskey.. ( April is poetry month. Poem number eighteen.) Old man wrote into his journal, My secrets, my sins, my indiscreet deeds. Will never be written or spoken aloud. They would die… Continue reading