The Texas jazz, I do need.
“Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.… Continue reading
Tag Archive: God
The songs of the seasons.
The songs of the seasons. Warm days, cold nights.Create a restless passion.I can hear the whisper of the windon a solitary hill. Old Mother Nature is calling for aid.The water is sick with… Continue reading
The war, the blood and the gun.
The war, the blood and the gun. No-one is screaming for the child of war. They have known only blood and the sound of war. Who do we blame my friend? War is… Continue reading
You and me?
You and me? A long time ago. We had the same hope and dreams. We found each other again, drowning in old regret and good whiskey in the dark Texas taverns. You told… Continue reading
Passing through.
Passing through. A poet and writer exchanging words and thoughts. The Coffee house poet told the writer. We can never win. Jack London once wrote. “The gods always win. Men believe they can… Continue reading
Sins of our father.
(My father in 1996. He died two months later.) Sins of our father’s. A Poem by Coyote PoetryWe can learn kindness from living and seeing hate and violence. Father’s eyes and anger…. Is my… Continue reading
Heal, not kill. For Palestine. Murder is murder.
(No place is safe. But cannot know fear. We must show the world. Freedom lived and good people will not falter. Pray for the people and the family of the city of Paris.… Continue reading
I wanted a true love once.
I don’t need you. At the Purgatory Inn. Old men wisdom means little.Dead men wisdom is buried and gone forever. I’m sitting with old writers and fellow non-believers in the lullabies of the… Continue reading
The missing pieces.
The missing pieces A Poem by Coyote Poetry “Fragrance of what we were do appear. I looked into the mirror. The once warrior had become the house plant. This is sad.” (My last day… Continue reading
Mercy. We more kindness. Less anger.
Mercy A Story by Coyote Poetry (A sad poem. We need more friends. More kindness.) Mercy. Young black man, 22-year-old.He sat alone and ate alone in the mess hall for many days.I watched him… Continue reading