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db cooper Aug 2017
The shallow opening
Ran below the bank
Musky air and water
It's wasting stone away
Now I am kneeling here
Searching for my place
With a little inspiration
I thought of Jenny's grave

The falls of Jenny Wiley
They're running in my veins
My ancestors killed her babies
And took her as a slave
They ***** and murdered
And butchered all the same
The Indians of this area
And their tomahawk blades

But Jenny made a run for it
And she got away
After a year in captivity
She just couldn't stay
I like to think she knelt here
In this little cave
Just as I am now
Planning her escape
Taken captive October 1, 1789, by Indians of the area, Cherokees, Shawnees, Wyandots, and Delawares, who murdered her brother and four children by tomahawk. She escaped after 11 months of captivity. The Indians had intended to attack the Harmon family who lived nearby, for killing two Cherokees, and had mistakenly attacked the Wiley family who lived in one of the hollows that is now within the Jenny Wiley state park. Jenny Wiley became pregnant and gave birth during the captivity, and learned the Cherokee lifestyle. Her dramatic escape in the spring of 1790 is now a legendary tale of early American frontier life in the Levisa Fork River area and the Big Sandy Valley .
db cooper May 2017
He had stepped into the leaky washroom
Ceramic tile: floor, walls, and ceiling
Water ran, flowing like a clear mountaintop spring in morning
Her body was **** and lying there
Lifeless and beautiful
He was gazing down at her
Finger twirling his dark ponytail hair
He said aloud "the water is cold, it's as cold as glacier water"
It was forever running over his scuffed up, black wingtip shoes
And down her freckled face, as he was standing straddle her head
Through her elegant red hair
Over her small pale *******
And then down each side of her figure
Hugging the outsides of her legs
Then hugging the outside of her ankles and feet
The glacier water freely flowed on  
It gave her body a complimentary glow
Reflecting the florescent light from the outside hall
He was standing there again pondering her death
Like many nights before this
He's standing there in the glacier water
Looking down at his beautiful wife
Remembering how cold the water was that December night
And how cold it has been ever since
This is a story painted by my imagination and influenced by music. Written while listening to the Album "Ambient Rain Music - For Wellness & Meditation" You can see, it's done wonders for my wellness and my meditation. Thanks for reading :)
db cooper Mar 2017
His open mouth smile
Gave me a shiver
Twinkle in his eye
Tickle the quiver
Ugh what is it now?
Same old Uncle Joe
Wrinkly brow
Puffing smoke
Come on boy, get in the truck
Hell no, Uncle Joe
I'm a sitting duck
Get in, now
You better do as you're told
Jesus, God
He's out of control
Down by the creek
We took a trip
And there it was
Lying in a ditch
See it, boy
Look at what I made
My God Joe
What is that thing?
I looked at his face
There it was again
Cigarette in his mouth
An open ended grin
He said you know what it is
Take that stick and poke it
Mother of God
It couldn't be
But I know it
A man was there
Dead in the ditch
Twinkle in his eye
Lickity split
Christ almighty
I knew not to flinch
He started to chuckle
Turned to me and said
Look at his face, boy
That's your brother Red
Never again
Have I lost all self control
But on that Summer Sunday
I lost it
Body and soul
I drew back a branch
That I found on the ground
Saw nothing but blackness
And now he's down
**** crazed Uncle Joe
He's out for the count
Smile on his face
While he's bleeding out
I feel better now
Saying it aloud
I don't get many visitors
This time around
  Oct 2016 db cooper
we sweat the small stuff and get upset
ready to deflect what we don't expect
storms spread and we get so wet
bad weather that we'd rather forget

we preset our heads to reject
whatever we don't see as correct
we've all bled and shed tears of regret
it's our necks that we try to protect

when letting two hearts connect
reverence has the better effect
it's the common threads that we neglect
instead of accepting we choose to except
db cooper Oct 2016
Under the glow of an imitation violet night
I sketched the nightmare of a violent smite
Her cigarette was burning in a pepsi can ash tray
What could've been night was actually day
We sat together on that old dust covered floor
Below a leaky windowsill and a broken door
What is it? she said to me
An ancient lagoon and willow trees
I was searching the paper for something to please
But I remembered the feeling of being empty
I pulled up the blanket and it became day
She wasn't there and I had made a mistake
Willow trees and an ancient lagoon
The place where I married her and buried her too
db cooper Oct 2015
Cardinal Feathers and Tears are worn
The Yellow Sun had again been born
Life had fallen some months before
Now they kneel in a circle mourn

Drained and seared,
The soil below looked in fear
To the energies, they raised their peer
Hoping for another light to near

Hand in hand they began to dance
Shouting a melody so complex
Like a majestic wave of ancient ***
A sacred cry for another chance

Stomping and chanting all around
The sky came splashing down
They open their spirit to make a sound
Was an echoing thunder from the ground
The Cherokee associate cardinals with the sun, and one Cherokee myth describes the first Redbird as the daughter of the sun. Some Cherokees also believed that redbirds could predict the weather. "A Sacred Rain Dance painted in my imagination while listening to Old Flavours- Empire Of The Sun"
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