If I was the King of the forest.


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IF I was the king of the forest.

A Poem by Coyote Poetry

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Old memories and old dreams.

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                       If I was the King of the Forest.
American Soldiers drinking with boisterous and loud German women and men in a guesthouse.
Celebrating the May festival in Stuttgart in 1978.Drinking the  cognac and good beer.
One of the German men yelled “A toast and a song.”
He ordered a round of cognac for the table.He raised his cup and spoke. “To peace and no more war.”
He began to sing. ” If I was the King of the forest. I would have only friends. I would have no hunger and the people would dance and celebrate being alive.
Guns would be forgotten. War would because a myth.
If I was the king of the forest. People would not live with fear. All races and religion would be content.
Murder and death forgotten. This would be my wish. If I was the king of the forest.”

He told us. “Toast to peace and utopia. I pray one day will come.”

I left my celebrating friends. I wrote a poem.

If I was the king of the forest.

If I was the kind of the forest. Wishes would become true.
I close my eyes.
Allowing my mind to travel to a summer day when youth was my wealth.

King of the forest.
When I was unstoppable and all dreams were in reach.

If I could.
Be able to close my eyes. Again be unafraid.
For when I close my eyes.
I don’t remember the victories.
I feel the burden of mistakes only.

If I was the King of the forest.
Love would be forever.
Love would be my only want.

For if I was King of the forest.
No-one could stop me from saving the world from the hunger
to destroy all things that are beautiful.

For If I was the king.
I would teach the child to love and to have great dreams.
I would erase thousand years of war and hate.

For if.
I could take away all the blood upon each hands,
maybe we could walk unafraid of other.

The King, I shall be.
Only in set-up dreams.
For my world is like a wild beast,
running toward death.

And I the King.
Can watch as drugs and alcohol steal all the hope and dreams of youth.
Rich men leading the world to a self-suicide.
Bringing death and wounds to the young people learning to live.

I.
Will stand and watch.
For only in dreams shall I find the strength to battle.
For the words of the King.

Cannot be heard through the scream of the suffering.

Coyote
1978/re-write 2013

© 2013 Coyote Poetry