Come hell or high water.
Comes hell or high water… Upstream… You were never easy, you were the day and I was the night, never stopping to keep our promises made.You were my sun and I was the… Continue reading
Comes hell or high water… Upstream… You were never easy, you were the day and I was the night, never stopping to keep our promises made.You were my sun and I was the… Continue reading
The crimson light. Forgiveness we must give, forgiveness we must know. Once hell-bound life destroyed by dead brothers and broken dreams. The evolution of life is fair. We shall pay for every sin… Continue reading
Highway 80 is calling me. A Poem by Coyote Poetry I’m tire of same places and faces. I need the road. Highway 80 is calling me. I’m tire, so damn tired. Somehow I… Continue reading
Blood in, blood out A Poem by Coyote Poetry An eye for an eye world. No-one can win. When hate and violence steal all the kindness and hope. What will be left my friend?… Continue reading
Dear Amie(Denying love rewards leave you with great reward) Sweet words once whispered by a ancient Poet.Dear Amie.Sweet and kind Poet. All of us hold madness, anger and regret.The lover who never gave… Continue reading
Death come when he desires. I was last year man. I had it all. Beautiful house and a great job.A hot girlfriend with clear blue eyes and legs as long as Texas highway… Continue reading
My dear Ojibwa Grandmother Chant My dear Ojibwa Grandmother with sad eyes would chant songs of ancient times.I still can hear them in sweet dreams where I was safe and free.I remember baby… Continue reading
Ride True freedom my friend is dancing with the wind. Singing song till the morning light.Knowing open highways and not being controlled by money and possessions. I want the sea, the mountains and… Continue reading
Hey, That isn’t no way to say goodbye You were my warm Spring day. The sun, the moon and my flowing river of hope. You were my first love and last love. I… Continue reading
Utopia of the pen and the paper. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Last freedom is the mind. Can’t control the mind completely. Always hope hiding somewhere.: Utopia of the pen and the paper.… Continue reading