"sundance" poems
Walking into the Reception Hall,
they stole the show away,
A regal pair they were,
with a little bit of Butch
and Sundance swagger shown.
A confident air, not at all underserved.
Dressed with just enough elegance.
Their posture and hue ,
sleek and silky golden,
like a duet of Cheetahs.
Eyes alert and searching
for prey. Alert for danger.
Like a herd of antelope,
all heads turned to look,
The men perhaps out of desire,
the women staring envy at them,
Like the twin bores of a loaded gun.
Mother and fetching daughter,
From twenty feet, hard to tell
which, one was one, or the other.
Long blond hair, full and fine,
both women tall, statuesque,
moving with grace and ease.
The mother my old friend,
the daughter all grown up now,
each having a smile that would
light up anyone's darkness of mood.
We greeted one another,
hugs and hand shakes shared.
A little conversation in the crowded room,
Many pairs of eyes upon us there.
Enchanted is the word that best describes
my impression, this duo as intelligent and
charming as they were beautiful to see.
The mother sedate, classy and yet open
and free, no pretense, no games just naturally
at ease. As lovely as I remembered her to be.
Her offspring, vivacious, spirited and bold,
smart as whip, with a tongue that could
draw blood if she desired it to.
Chatty and funny, sure of herself,
in the manner of beautiful people,
yet not in a pompous way, merely
Confident in self and her place in the world.
She possessed all the character traits you
would wish your own daughter to have.
Her Mother had done well is raising her.
Too soon they moved on,
meeting and greeting others',
out of my hearing and seeing.
Some weeks have passed, a month or two
and yet their strong impression has lingered,
I can't keep them out of my mind.
The Mother, my friend most of all.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
you make my legs
fill with lust
and some sundance
chemical I cannot
explain. you make
me feel like your
pupils are the sun
and the sun has
little in respect
to you aside from
attribution to the
very existence of
the girl I love.
you make me feel
like free chai tea
lattes, even if this
analogy was used by
an ex of mine to
describe how she
felt about me I
feel it's still
valid in context.
you make me dance
like thunder in a
snowstorm and link
arms with my lack
of a bedside table
and ring as true as
my ears to the ashen
corner-lounge love-drug-all-this-please.
I love you,
I love you,
I love you,
I love you.
holy sweet good *********
you sweet,
sweet soul,
not even
novels
could properly explain
how my universe swells into serotonin heartbeats
whenever
you're
wherever
with
me.
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 11:43 PM UTC
I wanna go Sundance on the moon,
Gather my thoughts and appreciate the value
Of being lucky to have a second chance
On a world where death occurs on every dance.
I wanna live a life worth meaning,
One worth gazing back and seeing
Where I can catch my breath and smile
Relax on the porch with an angle view of Eden
Expressing the mile and how it was worth while
I wanna learn & cultivate,
Curiosity of understanding
And what topics deserve dismantling
As knowing a fact or figuring out a part
As knowing the truth always has a hard start
It may be redeeming and deserves streaming
Can you handle the life and keep beaming
I wanna know whats the next stop,
What rocks to avoid and weather it carries a trap
Should I carry on walking and stop floating away
In this sophisticated maze thats delicately placed
I guess its worth being lost instead of knowing your place
Just so you can find your ways
And pick what to embrace
I wanna live by meaning,
To stop blaming and start fixing
To love other's more than my self
To inspire the heart by killing the dark part
To not be demeaning, foolish or deceiving
Rather respect and value others feelings
I wanna capture the good in all of us,
The meaning of sisters and brothers
A harmony expressed through + intentions
A sequence of peace & virtue in humanity
In order to live equally without the insanity
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 3:01 PM UTC
It aches when I smile.
My State's a disaster.
Coal rollers, burnouts and days full of rapturous
laughter and "Red Face"
down in Lusk in the hot days
of Summer--it's boiling;
Winter winds burn up your face.
I first learned to hate
myself in a snowstorm
on Dow Street in Sheridan.
My best friends are the slow warmth
that spreads through the chest,
lifts a cold heart, grabs popcorn and pints
at the Blacktooth on hundreds of nights.
And 500,000 simple souls are a sight.
Still they're just half a million salty
drops in the ocean--
A quick squall of rain on the Bighorns.
They've opened the floodgates for *********
morons, bigots and rednecks
and rich, ******* ranchers thinking
everyone owes them.
And their dollars are deadpan
gallows jokes down in Cheyenne.
But I've seen cheap smiles 4 miles wide
out by Sundance.
And I've got good friends that I still carry with me
like the potent, sweet, earthy afterburn of good whiskey,
or the smell of the lodgepoles in the Spring
up in Story.
And it's still my home
even though it's so empty.
It's still my home
though it sometimes seems ******
That State's in my bones,
I don't think it'll leave me.
So please understand that some nights
when you find me,
you've stumbled across a small splinter
chipped off of Wyoming.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 1:12 PM UTC
watching lightening
rip through the tenebrous sky,
anger-filled thunder scorns
the midnight hour.
We only came here to watch...
to breathe in cool night air.
I couldn't distinguish the shock
of your touch
from the wave of currents striking
the window of this sundance
crossing the blackened sky.
A feather-touch:
my lips, your lips, ours;
soft, seductive shivers.
Touches so electric,
we were unaware
of the youth-filled
dodge gunning
towards the embankment...
teen kisses, too innocent.
(They see our mirror image.)
In excited jolts,
like those of lightening raging
through the mountains,
we seek refuge
to thrill-seek
the precarious union
we are.
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 7:27 AM UTC
I first found Sundance bleeding in the desert like a dog.
Dirt stuck to him in broken window panes,
he bent his neck toward me in parts.
Spoke through eyes red like Arizona rock.
******* was so *****
looked like the desert spat him up.
Turns out it was the next town over.
They’d never done a proper hanging, before.
What happens when you’ve never done a
proper hanging before is loose hands.
Loose hands have a tendency
toward knives.
Sheriff sort of looked like a cross,
on his back,
that big knife stickin’ straight up like
a piece of glass.
Almost looked like Christ,
all curled up,
shining bright,
golden in all that dust.
Sundance drowned the devil in the Rio Grande.
Sundance had hands that were ****** quick.
I once saw him on a slow day.
Even then, they didn’t get to see the lightning,
people on the wrong end.
All they got was that black-hole barrel.
Must have looked like a third eye, on the other side.
Must have looked like a sunset.
Sundance’s tequila-blues,
a little shimmer, orange, red.
Six sunsets in three seconds
he was that quick.
In Bolivia we met two hundred Federalies
and I first saw him shake.
He said everything’s upside-down on the other
side of the equator and sunsets happen
the wrong ****** direction here.
Said we got lazy and let the Texas
spin us over the wrong way.
I bet he was quick enough to see the lightning
before the black.
Sundance told me when the world ends,
it’ll start in Texas.
Said there’s a few canyons there that’ll swallow
the whole ****** planet if we’re not too careful.
Said we’ll be wakin’ up next to ****** snakes,
before anyone notices.
Feb 15, 2012
Feb 15, 2012 at 6:31 AM UTC
The night
sky spills
past and
fills the store
beneath with
pools of
blue shadow
and silence,
they are all
there, the
books, on
the shelves,
waiting
ready to drop
like Sundance
and Butch
making good
their escape,
if only I'd
seen how
they'd been
squeezed
in I could
liberate them
all, wrong
verb (perhaps),
but.....
...... what
use will be
tomorrow's
sunrise
with no
book to read
by it's light ?
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 7:55 PM UTC
i'm not worried
about tying any
fraying or
loose ends
just take me back to
where i started
meet me up
in sundance
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
Red water, thick fluid
It's all the same
The blood running through us
No matter the life. No matter the name.
We all reek of selfishness
with the aroma of sin
We find hatred as pure bliss
Allowing demons to sink in
Letting them take over our intellect
Poisoning our flowers which sprout out of our veins
Our harmony is wrecked
The collectors of our guilt keep them locked in chains
We meditate on the thought of letting go
We raise our wings towards the sun
The sunflowers in your palms begin to grow
Once again we are one
Breaking through the barriers of doubt
We assassinate the demons we own
Our body will no longer fear droughts
We sing along to the melody the wind blown
The drums beat to our valuable souls
We nod our head and grin an incredible grin
Running free and wild with the foals
With a deep breath we feel the sun against our skin
We have escaped
This is our only chance
Without hesitation when the sky is draped
We lift our hands in perfect harmony and begin the sundance.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
You may look for me on Oxford Street
At dawn or dusk or night.
Or downtown where the down-and-outs meet
To drink and sleep and fight.
You may catch my shadow lurking on the curb
In the rainy middle-class suburbs.
(You’ll be chewing on the cud and on the curd,)
And they’ll all think you quite absurd,
And pass you by without a word
Without a care.
You won’t find me.
No, I’m not there.
You might get a glimpse at sundown
Of me and The Sundance Kid,
Riding onto Cape Town,
Or sliding through Madrid,
Or stealing through the byways of Turin –
Winking at the bottom of your glass of bitter gin,
Breathing through your window, on your skin,
Guessing what I think, just like a twin
But I swear,
You won’t find me,
No, I’m not there.
Chase my name to the horizon
Or the shores of Timbuktu;
Just be sure to keep your eyes on
Those two feet in-front of you.
I’ll be biting at your heels,
The stinging citrus scent of the fruit you peel,
The whirling hub of your bicycle wheel,
The hassock you fall upon when you come to kneel
In prayer.
But you won’t find me,
No, I’m not there.
Do not think that I will answer
When you ask or shout or call.
The figure of the folk dancer
Will not be me at all.
I’ll be the one that you’re not looking at,
Sitting in the place where you just sat,
Wiping from my face what you have spat,
Sleeping in every dark empty pocket of every new coat that
You wear.
Oh, you won’t find me,
I’m not there.
In every crowd and every gathering
You will turn around to see
That where I am not standing
Is not where you want to be.
Somewhere between you waking and your sleep
I swim the deepest secrets that you keep,
Silently catching the tears you weep,
In the kitchen cooking the food you eat
Minding what you sow you reap!
I am one step ahead of a sentient sweet
And fair.
But you will not find me.
I am not there.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 2:29 PM UTC
Bury me with the River Spirit.
Frozen underground,
surrounded by snow
in the heart of the canyon.
Let it hold me next to the babbles,
the falls, in the trees and among the cabins
I can't hear or see.
On my knees howling at the sun,
it shines down and
stings my frostbite.
Dead in the ground
when the canyons fail,
the waters halt and
all things fall and
I won't see you.
All things are harder to find
when you are in a wooden box
and buried.
Apr 18, 2010
Apr 18, 2010 at 4:59 PM UTC
Caterpillars drowning in the rain.
Not your typical sundance romance situation.
Financial calculators,
Homemade ice cream cake,
Oil change 3 months overdue,
One of those museums made up of an old town where people dress is 19th century clothing,
***** martinis.
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 1:22 AM UTC
Eagleman taught me things about his people.
He showed me the pipe,
he talked about the way,
the good red road,
and the four directions.
I was sitting in a sweat
when I learned
about Mother Earth.
It was fascinating,
felt so real and magical
at the same time.
I learned
about animal spirits,
the sundance,
burning sage,
and why his people
danced like ghosts.
But he didn't teach me everything.
He said some things
will always be a mystery.
He said the Great Spirit
wanted it that way.
He told me if one
listened hard enough
to the fierce winds
hugging the plains,
you can hear the pain
of his kindred,
millions of souls
crying in harmony
to the beat of the drum.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 2:13 AM UTC
Haven't done what I love
in so long.
Trying so hard to love.
Hurt for it.
***** cut
blood,
want.
Hands,
bricks, numb.
20 years on this Earth,
had enough of this poison.
These little sticks of fire.
Jack off,
**** it. Jack off,
don't feel.
Don't care. Hate.
**** you, hate,
**** me,
hate. ****
not good enough. Dead,
not good enough.
Dead this,
**** it,
lie,
forget about it in the morning.
Don't want anymore.
Finished with this language.
Don't care about command.
Just tryin' to be honest.
Don't want anymore good writing.
I want to know what to do.
I am sorry, New York.
I knew it was 5am.
I called anyways.
is now a fan of your poetry.
is now a fan of your poetry.
wrote a reaction to 26 January 2012
liked Texas, Part 1
liked Invalides
liked Invalides
is now a fan of your poetry.
Read this, think it's good.
Think I'm good. Don't know ****
Goodnight.
Goodnight, Sundance.
Goodnight, Texas.
Goodnight,
goodnight.
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 7:04 PM UTC
This is my romance
I long to fly,
sunsoak, sundance,
buzz and sing
When I'm a bee,
I fly erratically,
looking for flowers.
to help make honey
Where are you, Queen?
I respond just to You
I bring my nectar only for you
I feel your presence near
Buzzit! I feel strange,
downright deranged.
What's that in black?
Is our hive under attack?!
Humans are very fine
targets for my behind.
Buzz, buzz, I make a pass;
Now he gets a piece of ***
Uh-oh, what's that smokin'?
Bzzt, I'm feelin' heartbroken.
Bee hearts are so tiny
And easily broken
I'm flying
erratically
so high now
I'm out of breath
I'm closer to death
I'm going down now,
drifting
I'm going to sleep now, dreaming
of my Queen in our Hive of Honey
When I'm a bee
Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 11:02 PM UTC
I'll be Butch Cassidy;
you be the Sundance Kid.
We'll jump together?!!
Jan 11, 2011
Jan 11, 2011 at 9:16 PM UTC
It's thirty minutes to three in the morning.
I woke up from a nap that was half a night's sleep.
It told me to take it further than the tips of my fingers.
Then the words swirl around in my head and get
caught in whirlpools going around and around.
Never really quite profound until
something changes
and the flow changes direction...
all it needs is a little guidance,
and there you are being a little sundance.
It's a cute inward angle of the feet,
ankles out and pulling on your fingertips.
I can't seem to write fast enough
to record the rapid vignettes
flashing around my skull.
but I'm dancing in the rain as
sheets of water slip off rooftops.
and I am wearing a tie-dye shirt that
will never fit me anymore.
a shirt my mother made me...
and my brother is laying
at the foot of the staircase
and I am running down the steps
and with four to spare I jump —
landing on his stomach.
a trampoline, I imagined
and there I sit, in my father's lap
out on the back porch,
with a bag of carrots.
I only like the crunch
crunch crunch ptooey!
my brother is wheezing on the couch
and my porch is covered in carrots
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 6:24 PM UTC
you said as long as the sun shall rise so
someday things will be different
you were greater good you were something special
in the night (dead) silent I still see you
there was cold in our bones when I took your hand I
loved you, loved you like the first and only
you said we'd conquer the world someday so
someone bar the doors
in uproar in upheaval we were pale
falling (dead) on hearts and hands
for the last time I still love you
there was heat on my face that you never felt so
sometime I let go
maybe if you took my hand we would crash like the waters on moses
but we haven't touched since sundown now so
someday they'll deliver us
I swear to god I'm happy now
but if the sky comes down
I'll find you
I loved you, loved you
like the first and
only
so you were open and I was lost but
you'd have made me the happiest
(dead)
girl in the world
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 2:46 PM UTC
i want to make
a movie out of your
skin, the way you
move like ivy vines,
a movie-ode
to your ode-begging
face.
if i could,
i'd enter us
into a film festival
we could be a sundance
winner, a student
film phenomenon.
i bet you it would
go something
like this,
enter a blank screen,
fade into a shot of you skin,
pan out to show your face, or
body.
*all skin.
all skin.*
you are beautiful for
a split second,
until my voice cracks the
silence
i tell you that we could be
no one, and nothing.
and you ask me.
for what?
so we make the movie anyways.
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 12:48 AM UTC
Hutch hopped about
Foraging as usual
Sundance stealthily
Crept towards her
Hutch sensed danger
Turned this way and that
Wrinkling her nose
To test the breeze
But did not detect
Her murderers crouch
Sundance sneaked
Towards a **** position
Getting ready to pounce
Hutch twitched her nose
Oh no , she thought
I'm being stalked
Sundance leapt into space
That's all he had
Hutch had gone.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 1:45 AM UTC
Lady love
Young and Innocent, Not in my world,
Maybe a thousand years ago, No fifty shades of grey, only black,
My joy being with pop-pop, his joy his Lady Love adorned in White Powder we would visit.
12 yrs old, I was commissioned, a guard, a lookout, a soldier, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid, armed with a fork and instructions from pop-pop on how to gouge an eye. (Just in case) we ventured to visit Lady Love.
I was ready, a knight in confused armor.
42th street, nobody's dancing, Bright lights washing the hopeless,
"Stay here, I'll be right back, keep a eye out for the bad men in blue"
Alone, armed with a fork, fear, and apprehension, I pushed down below, you see, I adore the man I needed and wanted to be here. the power of Lady Love.
Bus ride home, Dad out like a light dreaming of heaven,
I'm happy, I love the man,
No dreams of heaven or hell for me
I have my poems.
Firewalker
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
I ask for freedom,
Freedom to release this weight.
The weight of this world is lifted
Lifted like a feather.
Feather moved by the wind,
My wind that shall carry me.
Me to you the eternal slumber,
Slumber as brown shape shift zip...zip
Zipper do da day.....
Day of the day day yay day yay daze
Dance sundance film
Errrr.... Away... Yay day yay day away daze.
Ablaze in a maze phase away in a daze,
In this ways,
it pays to gaze.
Praise with the ways,
Are you still reading this?
Stop.... Now!
I mean now...
You don't need to read any further.
Because you are finished right now!
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC
Now since my childhood
I knew the world wasn't good
Cuz back then I was misunderstood
Subjugated by a system
That's color blind
Look into my eyes inyoull
See a glimpse of a lost soul
On a stroll bump the cash roll
Cuz it's all a fold
Debt been collected since
My first steps making reps
Trying to gain street fame
But back then I didn't know my name
But things changed for the better
I'm standing up for my nation
Fighting for my past ancestors
Reparations
They say we was lazy imagine that?
Working Sun up to Sun down
With a gat to the bat
Or better yet a whip
Or a noose
I'm knocking Washington's boots loose
Prepare for this lyrical *******
I ain't scared no more
Made for war talkin reckless
Out my maw
Raised in hell so I guess I'm an outlaw
Raw with my southpaw
But it's all good my folks
Been ready for battle if they understood
We been here along with the indians mexicans they kin
To us friend
The gringos took all they land
Then they got us fighting
For our own land?
What kind of ******** is that
I know my history
And it didn't start in slavery
It started with monarchy
We was pharaohs and queens
Back when the scene
Was black the dark ages
Wasn't blank it was just us ruling the world
Reppin' the black nations
Still fighting for reparations
They talk about the Sundance Kid
Billy the Kid
But what about what Nat Turner did?
In 1811
Sent many souls to heaven broke the leven
Claim we equal that's just a new sequel
To keep minds off the ********
**** them preachers in the pulpit
How the hell could God love everybody
When he abhors the rich trick
Games people play say
**** to make you feel better
But underneath they want you wetter
Behind the ears how many tears?
The poor gone cry no lies
Look me in my eyes
In you'll a 400 plus years of scorned mentality
I'm tryna uplift my peeps
But they it seems they mostly dumb succumb
To what the world lays
But hey
I say **** that bull and form a litigation
Come back like King said for reparations
Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 9:06 AM UTC
Mammon, their false god of avarice, says,
their 'final solution', extinction,
to steal everyone's everything,
can't be stopped, notseeism will rule.
"...We(e),..." bay, nay, you will be separated from
the State, as the Constitution dictates, the people
will rise again, your treason will end, Oyate.
Somatic revolution, each one's foci of attention
solutioning with all life, betwixt Earth and Sky,
evincing to be alival, not survival, lifting sights,
inspiring visions, meditations, actions, sweats to Sundance.
While we look to the 7 th generation, with our climate crisis strike,
starting 9-20-19 and 'the Green New Deal', we also mournfully remember
'Wounded Knee', 12-29-1890, where 300 Native Americans were exterminated.
Most of them were women, kids, a root of our king-kong sized terrible-two's
current war on kids, mostly Latinos. I would fly just for a day, as a mayfly,
the Beauty Way, if I were more me, rather than as long as an eagle flies,
selling out, destroying, killing. Viva la evolucion. Wakan Tanka.
Sep 9, 2019
Sep 9, 2019 at 6:11 AM UTC
Take me to the swan-graced waters...
Where dragonflies would visit,
and skim the surface on tireless wings.
I’d sit with the grounds’ keepers
- the cicadas.
Invisible guardians,
whose shrill song and calls
would only echo through the sparse foliage
and trees - entrancing me into a state of
accompanied aloneness.
A calming solitude,
that enables the eyes
to lapse into a deep,
unjudging gaze into the lake.
And as time slows to a halt,
each breath would lengthen...
The sun would dip into the distant edge
of the lake.
And my heart would skip
as it interprets the dance of the sun
on the water.
Jul 6, 2021
Jul 6, 2021 at 6:54 AM UTC