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Feb 2014 · 2.1k
Gypsy Dream
r Feb 2014
Sometimes I tire
Of the gravity of life
And wish to ride with Gypsies
Dance with tambourine
And raven haired beauty
With sultry smile
And plunging neckline
A peasant dress
And raging fire...
One
      can
           dream.....

r ~ 12Feb14
Feb 2014 · 1.4k
Territorial Moments in Time
r Feb 2014
The hours before dawn
are as much a territory
as moments in time
Alone in a darkened world
listening to sounds the
morning shares with me
and I alone
A rustle of a small creature
settling more comfortably
in its bed beneath frozen branches
within a pine-straw burrow
The creak of ice-burdened limbs
high in the loblolly pines
The crack of ice breaking loose
to land on frozen deck
like an echo of a rifle shot
from many years ago
The pecking of small pellets of
sleet upon my glazed blue
tin roof with dragon's teeth
icicles hanging above my head
This is my territory
and my hours
before the
dawn

r ~ 12Feb14
During the passing of winter storm Pax/Feb 2014
Feb 2014 · 1.6k
Red-winged Blackbird
r Feb 2014
White frozen pine tree
   framed bright red and yellow flash
   of red-winged blackbird

r ~ 12Feb14
Feb 2014 · 1.3k
Eighteen Sailor Miles
r Feb 2014
From Hatteras south to Ocracoke
The Queen Anne she did soak
A'bar at Springer's Point
Where kin of Teach
Take pride in speech
And with pirate's blood anoint

On down coast by Emerald Isle
Eighteen sailor  miles
Till  sail through Tops'l Spit
Beneath the waves
Lie many graves
Of fools whose widows knit

r ~ 11Feb14
For Billy, my 'hoi toid' friend on Ocracoke Island.
Feb 2014 · 2.2k
Women on Ice
r Feb 2014
Only half watching the Sochi Olympics and
     wondering why all of a sudden ice hockey
without brawling gap-toothed players
      seemed so captivating as the puck was blocked
effortlessly by a graceful skating illusion
      did I realize that behind that face mask and
and billowing raven hair was a bright-red              
       lipsticked beautiful face that totally shook
my floor. In my state of inattention I found    
       myself attracted to a hockey player
Scared the hell out if me until I realized that
       it was women's competition

r ~ 9Feb14
Feb 2014 · 1.6k
The Daisy Chronicles
r Feb 2014
At eight weeks old, she was our newly rescued mixed beagle pup.

Noah named her Daisy. Not a name I would have chosen, but certainly as sweet as

memories of Grandma's homemade molasses
bubbling in the old iron kettle brought out from the smokehouse for only one day each year on a crisp fall morning.

By sixteen weeks it was evident that all involved in the rescue didn't know squat about Beagles. After a frantic thirty seconds on Google, our mistake was quite clear in the form of about five hundred red and black and tan photographs.   We were the proud but red-faced and slightly shocked owners of a "**** Dog". Yep. And Daisy was her name-o.

Two years and seventy pounds down the road, I sat in my morning solitude spot this day with a good mug and a good book watching the nut hatches, house finch, and Black-capped/Carolina Chickadees tearing that special blend seed up as Daisy patrolled the yard for squirrels with one eye and her nose to the sky watching for the lone and clever Rock Pigeon scout that always precedes the flurry of flying rodents raiding my feeder. I can't help but to smile as Daisy glances at me through the deck door glass to see if I am admiring her skill and diligence.   I am.

This being a Sunday before the dreaded M word day, I tend to lounge lazily around the house in my worn Clapton pj bottoms and hol(e)y Langley T-shirt. My shadow follows me from comfort to comfort spot knowing that I leave a trail of odd snacks from my kitchen perch to living room couch to study to lazy bed, and back again. She is showing a bit of winter fat.

To be continued....

r ~ 9Feb14
Nat: consider these just working notes and observations on Daisy for the requested Daisy Companion poem once the elusive poetic fever strikes again.
Feb 2014 · 1.0k
Passerine Beret
r Feb 2014
Poecile
Seems somehow fitting here on HP
With undulating rapidity
Poecile carolinensis
or is it *P. atricapillus
?
Is it chicka dee dee dee
Or fee bee fee bay
Or simply bee bay?
Both sporting Che's beret
Alerting comrades of other color
To where food can be found for free
Flitting from shrub to tree
To feeder and fast away
In black beret
Like Che
Still trying to get the Chickadee to feed from my hand.
Feb 2014 · 817
Between the Lines
r Feb 2014
The words between
leave not a trace
on page or screen
or time or space.

The cursive script
or font filled line
serve to encrypt
this life of mine.

Some days I'm hot,
and some days cold.
Some days I'm young,
and some days old.

I have known love,
and I've known pain.
I've been a dove,
and I've been Cain.

I have been high,
and I've been low.
I've cast the die
where few will go.

I'm hidden here
somewhere between
the far and near
and never seen.

r ~ 7Feb14
Feb 2014 · 851
Let me be…
r Feb 2014
Let me be the step that guides your dance.
Let me be your hope not left to chance.
Let me be the wind that glides your wings.
Let me be your snow that fills the springs.
Let me be the fire that gives you light.
Let me be your dream that comes at night.
Let me be the mountain to your plain.
Let me be your stream that fills with rain.
Let me be the heat that makes you sigh.
Let me be your answer to the why.
Let me be the ocean to your tide.
Let me be the one that’s by your side.
And I will.

r ~ 5Feb14
In response to Nat's request to warm up my winter pen and step out of the cold for a spell.
Feb 2014 · 1.1k
Cold Mountain Ice
r Feb 2014
Cold Mountain's calling
Winter days die young
Cold rain is falling
Black cloak has been flung

Carve my face
upon Cold Mountain's ice.
Chisel a trace
of a smile around my eyes.
Cut hard lines
deeply soft beside my mouth.
Send my heart
on a slow boat headed south.

Cold Mountain beckons
I'll be there too soon
Cold river reckons
Cold rain hides the moon

r ~ 3Feb14
Jan 2014 · 2.3k
Baby Wants to Sail
r Jan 2014
A baby's smell.
A rare seashell.
The things sublime
that make you rich.

A wishing well.
A gambler's tell.
The quilts of time
that have no stitch.

An ocean swell.
A schooner's bell.
The poet's rhyme
that has no niche.

r ~ 30Jan14
Jan 2014 · 2.8k
The Osprey Nest
r Jan 2014
I spied it first from my upper deck,
a huge nest of driftwood, tree limbs and seaweed.
Each summer watching the male do his sky dance
while spotting prey underwater
from 30 meters above Hells Gap Marsh.
His wings constructed in a manner
that allows him to bend and shield
his eyes from the sun as he lands.

The first thing I would look for
after each hurricane took another bite
out of our coastline.
And after six succeeding hurricanes
the nest still strong in the top of the old tree, though
empty in the cold months as the Osprey winters south.
Several generations of young I've watched grow
through summers in my time here.

For two full years now the nest has stood empty.
Mates for life have parted.
No more young learning to hunt the fish.
Standing  as a metaphor
for my own
soon to be empty nest.
A reality, not just a
syndrome.

r ~  30Jan14
The Osprey (Pandionidae).  A most awesome bird of prey.
r Jan 2014
Suffering from cabin fever, I raided my cache of end-time sardines and went slipping and sliding down to the dock to feed the near-shore birds.

One lone Repelican sat upon a bollard by the boat launch seeming frozen to the spot.  He was looking pretty grimm.

Taking pity on this cold, hungry waterbird former Marine-turned-Feeb, and apparently not stuck on I-275, this kindhearted Democrab was soon out of end-time sardines.

Telling him that I was sardine-poor but had one question I would like to ask concerning an investigation into questionable publicly financed bollard homesteading practices, the repugnant Repelican was not happy with me and stuck his long bill in my face while threatening to break me in half (like a boy) and throw me off of the effing dock before flapping away in a huff.

He called me later and asked to do lunch next week. Sardines on him.

r. ~  29Jan14
To Rep. Congressman Grimm/NY
Jan 2014 · 1.3k
January in Sneads Ferry
r Jan 2014
Weathered boats with empty holds
Docked along the frozen bay
Old men  laughing at the cold
Drink to tales of colder days

Snow and sleet come down in sheets
Aged sea widows cast their lots
Children play on icy streets
She-Crab soup in cast iron pots

Rare the snow on Sneads Ferry
Rarer yet the snow that stays
Only in January
Are villagers apt to play

r ~ 28Jan14
A rare and merry winter storm underway in my village of Sneads Ferry.
Jan 2014 · 1.3k
3 Welsh Road
r Jan 2014
A lovely name for a lane
Wonder how it got its name
A lady poet weaves her words
And grows her flowers and her herbs
Lighting fires of inspiration
Casting spells of abjuration
Creating for us prismatic spheres
Of plants and sea and salty tears
The poetess happy in her abode
On 3 Welsh Road

r ~ 2013
Repost of one lost and recovered.  For Lady KMae.
Jan 2014 · 685
Tooele County Days
r Jan 2014
South of the Great Salt Lake
In the Valley of the Skull
Living was make or break
And the days were always full

We walked the desert dunes
In the land of the Goshute
We slept beneath the moon
Drank water from desert roots

Living on borrowed time
Waiting for the sun to rise
Youth was our only crime
Happiness was our disguise

Tooele County days
Counting days till we deploy
Striking camp in a haze
Shoulder arms and **** the joy

r ~ 23Jan14
Thoughts of my long ago days at Dugway Proving Ground, Utah.
Jan 2014 · 468
Truth Lies
r Jan 2014
Somewhere
between
two breaths
and death
lies truth.

r ~ 26Jan14
Jan 2014 · 1.4k
Photograph
r Jan 2014
I can't recall
The writing on the wall
It wasn't me who put it there

Our time went fast
It wasn't meant to last
It disappeared I don't know where

You came to me
Asked me to set you free
Knowing I would because I care

Cut it in half
Love is a photograph
A painful memory to share

r ~ 26Jan14
Jan 2014 · 740
In Memoriam
r Jan 2014
Sitting alone staring out the window at the frozen air and slate colored sky with every inch of the desk covered in stacks of paper like strata of life.  Book shelves impossibly arranged so that no one would ever decipher  the code of the last 30 years.  Wondering
what happened, but knowing it didn’t just happen.  It was the long road taken to this place where the bland stale toast
sameness of life had become boring  and without sweetness or flavor. All of those years now behind and the
memories all that are left to mock.  What to do now, hotshot?  Now that this is all that has been
accomplished.  All of this and nothing.  Which drawer did you hide the bottle from
yourself in?  Seems so long ago, but was really not given how many years it
kept you company. Let’s explore those drawers and see what can
be salvaged of the past.  Let us toast you in memoriam…

r ~ 24Jan14
Apologies to Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892), and A.H.H.
And thanks to Diane whose Banner photo knocked this one loose.
Jan 2014 · 2.3k
Tinnitus
r Jan 2014
My right ear has triple tinnitus.
It's true. I kid you not.
First there is the deep, low mourn of a foghorn,
with a louder high pitched ring above.
But stuck somewhere in between
is a beautifully sad Charlie Parker saxophone number.
It's soft notes range frome mid to low and drown
the foghorn and annoying ring while carrying
me away to dream.   My own nightly internal
Charlie Parker radio.

r ~  23Jan14
The tinnitus would drive me nuts if not for Charlie.
Jan 2014 · 2.5k
Wet Dog
r Jan 2014
I love the closed system of rain
How much time it takes a drop to get here
A million or more years old
A water molecule evaporated up from the Atlantic
Rained down in Egypt thousands of years ago
Running with the Nile
Washing the sweat off of slaves who built pyramids
Then south to Ethiopia
Later to come up in a village well
Where someone used it to water a barley plant
Evaporating again to be swept up by a front
That poured on Bangkok
Before running off into the South China Sea
Wobbling along the Tropic of Cancer
Over to the North Pacific
Following the northeast trade winds
Then back again to the Atlantic
Rising only to fall and land
Smack dab between the ears of
My sweet mutt Daisy

r~ 22Jan14
Jan 2014 · 955
And if Not Now, Then When?
r Jan 2014
Son, let me take this time to congratulate you
On your final exam day of high school
Tear the page out of the book
You’ve made us proud
Your Mom and I
Carpe diem,
Noah


r~ 22Jan14
Jan 2014 · 787
For Years or Forever
r Jan 2014
The willow weeps
While widows sleep
All alone in their dreams

A baby's cry
A lover's sigh
In the dark of the night

A tear that's wept
Promise not kept
Memories forgotten

A picture framed
A sorrow named
For years or forever...

r ~ 21Jan14
Jan 2014 · 1.5k
Winter Fog
r Jan 2014
A cold wall of dis-associative amnesia
Low crawling across the bay
A transient sea ischemia
That spills across the quay
A tide of ghostly blanch
Enveloping all in its way
Like a timid avalanche
On a fugue state winter's day

r  18Jan14
Jan 2014 · 2.0k
Our Lady of the Mist
r Jan 2014
Nyirmachabelli
The woman who lives alone on the mountain
Her wheels she named Lilly
National Geographic cover girl
Protector of the mountain gorilla
Buried now beside her friend Digit
In Karisoke, Nyirmachabelli
Our Lady of the Mist
In Memory of Dian Fossey, 1932-1985
r Jan 2014
The stately oak stands solemn and quiet
Alongside the bucolic covered bridge
Its branches hanging downward as if tired
Leaves falling slowly into the current
Of the rain swollen Watauga River

The shadow of the tree clinging starkly
Onto the weathered century-old planks
Speaking of a time not so far removed
When bridge and tree was the gathering place
For a day's respite from a hard week's toil

Farmers, merchants, wives and children gathered
With picnic baskets filled with fried chicken
The women chatting in their new bonnets
The children wearing last year's Sunday best
While the men make bets like Roman soldiers

The low mound where the tree's roots are anchored
Bare earth beneath the lowest hanging limb
A crude stool of newly cut pine upright
While waiting for the next unwilling guest
Courthouse clock chimes the hour of Golgotha

r  14Jan14
Jan 2014 · 1.0k
Dancing in a Minefield
r Jan 2014
Soldiers dancing in a minefield
Why aren't there any protest songs
Doesn't matter how their minds feel
As long as they can't sing along

History has shown us the rhyme
Taking again our Khygar Pass
One more ****** foot at a time
Praying to God that it's the last

r  13Jan14
Jan 2014 · 2.2k
Ariel
r Jan 2014
What will be his legacy
After such a deep long sleep
Rising to the Golan Heights
Rue Sabra and Shatila
In circling Pharohs Army
Or clearing strips through Gaza
Roaring Lion Rebel Angel

r 13Jan14
This acrostic poem is intended to be entirely apolitical.
Jan 2014 · 2.4k
Liebe Immer
r Jan 2014
I’m trying hard to be teachable
But everyday remains much the same
Where the ending is unreachable
And the beginning seems just a game

Rain is pouring down in that dark place
The wind is howling for me to leave
Without a light I can’t find a trace
Give me something to make me believe

Please take this burden from my shoulder
And shine a light that will help me see
I want to learn as I get older
That you will always be there for me

Liebe immer...
Love always

r  9Jan14
To be read with cheap whiskey, a cigarette and Muddy Waters playing in the background.
Jan 2014 · 4.3k
The Poppy and the Drone
r Jan 2014
While Zafar takes his crop to town
Businessmen snort ******
Teens buy bundels to fill their veins
With housewives Oxycontin reins

The Generals demand their Percs
Technocrats love Dilaudid's quirks
While drones fly over Zafar's field
Counting flowers for next year's yield

r  9Jan14
r Jan 2014
Hey, Leon
Let's go outside and play\
No, Ramon
It's too cold outside
We'll freeze\
Don't worry, Leon
I've got my ice pick!
:)

r  7Jan14
Jan 2014 · 1.1k
Aden
r Jan 2014
Halfway down that trail to hell
He did stop to rest a spell
Barking dogs and darkened cells
Turning thoughts from black to pale

Cold as cold as cold as ice
Empty hearts no alibis
Mothers tears and soldiers lies
Predators and babies cries

The sun shined a cloudless rain
Broke the spell unlocked the chain
Washed away the fear and pain
From Red Sea port to home again

r  6 Jan 14
Nov 2013 · 1.4k
Silence
r Nov 2013
Silence
Like a scream
In the dark
Keeps me awake
Wandering the corridors
Of my soul

r  15 Nov 13
Nov 2013 · 1.6k
Arapaho Bride
r Nov 2013
He put hummingbirds in his bride’s hair
With fine vines he tied them there
To fan her skin in hot summer air
With cactus flowers to provide nectar

She wore soft beaded deer skin clothes
And slept beneath the finest buffalo robes
A warm fire she built to keep out the cold
His beautiful wife would stoke his coals

On a cold winter night she bore him a son
Both woman and child never saw the sun
His people cried and beat their drums
Singing songs of sorrow and loss of the young

Across the snowy plains now fast he rides
His strongest pony never breaking stride
He travels to the place where the gods’ reside
To join them on their journey to the other side

r  15 Nov 2013
Nov 2013 · 763
Another Mile Another Day
r Nov 2013
Many bridges I have burned
Hard lessons I've unlearned
Rocky trails where I have turned
The path that lead astray

If you look into my eyes
You'll see there no disguise
My dark browns hold no lies
I'll hold on to your gaze

My heart still holds a fire
My soul you can inspire
Help my legs to not tire
As I go alone my way

Another mile another day

r  14 Nov 2013
Nov 2013 · 4.0k
Orphan Trains
r Nov 2013
Many were their numbers
Living in city streets and slums
Brothers and sisters torn asunder
Gathered up like bums
Nineteenth century’s answer
Created by Children’s Aid Society
Indentured servants to farmers and ranchers
Shipped in cattle cars like  propriety
Struggling in their suffering
Confused used and oft’ abused
Terror in their wayfaring
For being parentless accused
The disruptive ones placed in chains
Scattered to the winds across the land
The far west and the Great Plains
North to Canada and south of the Rio Grande

Billy here, Danny Boy there, and Sally who knows where
The Children of the Orphan Trains

r  13 Nov 13
Nov 2013 · 851
Want vs Need (10 w)
r Nov 2013
You were everything I wanted
And nothing that I need

r  14 Mar 13
Another old one lost but recovered.
Nov 2013 · 579
Thrasher (10 w)
r Nov 2013
There is always at least one song
that stands enshrined.
r   12 Oct 13
Happy Birthday, Man.  Keep on Rockin'.
Neil Young (1945 - Forever)
Rust Never Sleeps (1979)

                   Thrasher
They were hiding behind hay bales,
They were planting in the full moon
They had given all they had for something new
But the light of day was on them,
They could see the thrashers coming
And the water shone like diamonds in the dew.

And I was just getting up, hit the road before it's light
Trying to catch an hour on the sun
When I saw those thrashers rolling by,
Looking more than two lanes wide
I was feelin' like my day had just begun.

Where the eagle glides ascending
There's an ancient river bending
Down the timeless gorge of changes
Where sleeplessness awaits
I searched out my companions,
Who were lost in crystal canyons
When the aimless blade of science
Slashed the pearly gates.

It was then I knew I'd had enough,
Burned my credit card for fuel
Headed out to where the pavement turns to sand
With a one-way ticket to the land of truth
And my suitcase in my hand
How I lost my friends I still don't understand.

They had the best selection,
They were poisoned with protection
There was nothing that they needed,
Nothing left to find
They were lost in rock formations
Or became park bench mutations
On the sidewalks and in the stations
They were waiting, waiting.

So I got bored and left them there,
They were just dead weight to me
Better down the road without that load
Brings back the time when I was eight or nine
I was watchin' my mama's T.V.,
It was that great Grand Canyon rescue episode.

Where the vulture glides descending
On an asphalt highway bending
Through libraries and museums, galaxies and stars
Down the windy halls of friendship
To the rose clipped by the bullwhip
The motel of lost companions
Waits with heated pool and bar.

But me I'm not stopping there,
Got my own row left to ***
Just another line in the field of time
When the thrashers comes, I'll be stuck in the sun
Like the dinosaurs in shrines
But I'll know the time has come
To give what's mine.
Nov 2013 · 2.1k
The Road to Damascus
r Nov 2013
At the end of the road to Damascus
There paved a street called Straight
Where lay the home of Judas
A blinded Pharisee did await
For hands layed on by Aranias
Saul now Paul the converted Pharisee
Again could walk the street of Straight
No longer blinded he now could see
Returning back to Jerusalem
Persecuted by King Agrippa
And perform the acts of apostles

I still seek to take my first step
On my own road to Damascus
To walk the street called Straight
Find my way out of this blackness

r  7Oct2013
Nov 2013 · 1.8k
Three Squares and a Cot
r Nov 2013
People on the streets
Parents working second jobs
Trying to make ends meet
Savings depleting as prices rob
Mothers' seek cheapest cuts of meat
Politicians out to make wealthy richer
As if that were the answer to division
Between those that have not a pitcher
Or bowl large enough to catch false vision
Of milk and crumbs that never trickle down
From those who have and care not
For those whose voices have no sound
While criminals get three squares and a cot

r  3 Nov 13
Nov 2013 · 932
Friendly Fire
r Nov 2013
Night sky black and bursting
With stars above our encampment
Then clouds covered moon encircling
Snow began to fall on desert  enchantment
Wind of sand and snow surprise did blow
Blinding us to danger's imminent engagmeent
Now when I sleep I dream of gunfire
in the dark and sound of booted feet
The smell of sweat and burned gunpowder
In my dream I raise my rifle at a silhoutte
Fire and see him clutch the rose that burst
The wound that doomed him to final rest
And I to never rest  forever cursed
With dream of friendly fire

r. 1 Nov 2013
Oct 2013 · 1.4k
Smart(ass) Son
r Oct 2013
My son told me that I had a worse singing voice
than Neil Young, Bob Dylan, Townes Van Zandt and John Prine
all combined.
I just smiled and said "Thank you, son".

r
Oct 2013 · 1.7k
Outlaw by Default
r Oct 2013
Texas Rangers' pointed stars he wore
as rowels on the shank of his spurs with pride.
The holes in the center punched with squint not
scowls and his .45 Colt Peacemaker true and tried.
Nothing personal against the Rangers,
they just didn't understand.
They chased him for the killing of strangers
whose whiskey tempers forced his hand.
He wore their stars upon his spurs not as a prize
for his skill in killing two of Texas' best,
but for their courage and their pride.
Now he spends his last years in Mexico
with his back to the wall and Peacemaker
on his side.
Playing poker, stealing tequila drunken
outlaws gold.
Eights and Aces they always stand.
An outlaw by default
never again to cross the Rio Grande.

r
Another early one deleted and recovered by friend Lane.  First posted 6 April 2013.
Oct 2013 · 1.7k
The Saddle Preacher
r Oct 2013
He was baptized in whiskey
and gunsmoke aroma
Took up with a Cherokee woman
Quite friskey
Down in the Territory of Oklahoma
Tired of one too many killings
He took his side iron off
Wrapped it in its holster folded
Inside a gun oiled rag
Replaced it with his Mother's Bible
From within his saddle bag
Listened to that smart Indian woman
Who said he'd hung around the Territory
Too long
And if we don't skeedaddle
You'll be hangin' longer than you want
Smartest woman he'd ever known
She'd heard there's no law or religion
West of the Pecos and beyond
So they headed out to Texas
To preach the gospel to outlaws
****** and poor Mexican Catholics
Wrote off the Oklahoma Territory Baptists
Whose thick hides hide drunken sinners
Ridin' hard and fast her buckskin skirt
Above her thighs
Ridin' with a winner
Dark hair flowing behind
Ridin' hard to in his sight keep her
Such beauty that could stir the
***** and mind
Of even an old saddle preacher

r
An old one lost and recovered by my friend Lane Richard.  First posted 16 Apr 2013.  Thanks, Lane.
Oct 2013 · 2.2k
Persistent Places
r Oct 2013
Persistent places
Sequent occupations of the landscape diachronically
Consisting of Action, Search, and Awareness Spaces

Action Spaces
The foci of people comprehensively
Interacting  with their place

Search Spaces
Where people go
To fulfill specific needs

Awareness Spaces
Those places people are aware of
But do not interact directly

These spaces that appear as palimsests
Accumulated layers of action, search and awareness
Comprehending persistent places is to understand the past

r  30Oct2013
Inspired by Dr. Lewis Binford's "Willow Smoke and Dogs' Tails: Hunter-Gatherer Settlement Systems and Archaeological Site Formation, 1980, American Antiquity, Vol 45, No. 1.
Oct 2013 · 2.0k
Philophobia (10 w)
r Oct 2013
The fear of love
Dreading the aftermath
You can't predict

r
Oct 2013 · 2.4k
White Man’s Litter
r Oct 2013
I’ve finally broken the arrow…
left the reservation..
as the sayings go.
Not without some hesitation…
not without some reservations..
I’m going to walk the White Man’s road.

Broken arrows from my quiver…
left behind like White Man’s litter..
all along this dusty road.
The road that follows the river…
where I use to play and shiver..
catching fish without a pole.

I’ll stop one more time by the water…
wash away the tears and dust and sorrow..
break my bow upon a boulder.
My people have lost their way…
nothing left for me to say..
cut my hair above my shoulder.

I’ll follow the White Man’s way…
Maybe Albuquerque or Santa  Fe..
only my dusty boots will know the way.
Broken arrows from my quiver…
left behind like White Man’s litter..
all along this dusty road.

r  August 2012
Oct 2013 · 960
Almost November
r Oct 2013
Almost November, but the train left town a long time ago.

There must be something better than this tired beat down old rodeo.

Waiting on the winter, but the cold came a long time ago.

I can't be reliving young mistakes while I grow old.


Almost November, rails stretching much further than I can go.

I can feel the change in weather, but can't beat that smoking iron horse home.

Cold heart of this old sinner, leaning forward, shoulders low.

Given up on believing, past behind me, story told.


It'll soon be December, our hearts will grow colder.

Guess I'll keep this old jacket, and the bag on my shoulder.

Grow my hair long again, for when the cold wind starts blowing.

And it's you I'll be thinking of when the grey clouds start snowing.

r  Oct 2013
r Oct 2013
Captain Jesus
smile on me
the battle is over
I'm finally free
now I can rest
in the sweet Mother's arms
and dream of emerald meadows
on your father's farm.

r 20 Feb 2013
Oct 2013 · 578
Confession
r Oct 2013
Forgive me Father
For I have sinned
Has been 100 years since my
Last confession
And 10 seconds since my last sin.

r
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