Whiskey dreams are still the same


Whiskey dreams are still the same

A Poem by Coyote Poetry

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Old dreams of youth I still hold on to. Not for me this time. For my children.

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Whiskey dreams are still the same.
( 7 Nov. 1979. Time don’t change too much )

Drinking whiskey with the German Soldiers in Stuttgard.

We sing if ” I were the king of the forest.

I would allow the world to be free.

We would dance and sing.

Till the light of the morning.”
After the song.

Silence overtake us.

We order more whiskey and tell stories of woman and adventure.
Iran today is holding our people hostage today.

The USA is broke with no place to seek help.

Poor Jimmy Carter had a big mess to fix.
I write some words.

‘My world is crying like a forgotten child.
Crying for all the sadness surrounding each soul in this world.
Where all humans could learn to cherish life, love and kindness.
But these are the goals faded away with the memory of WW2.
Now our world seem to live for fear, threat of war and violence.
Powerful countries afraid to stop and talk peace.
A day is coming when fear and hate will blind us.
There will be no tears for the innocent in front of the War machine.
One day. Too late.”

We will realize.
We are marching toward to a destine death.

My German friend give me a whiskey.
Yelled, “We are the Kings of the Forest.
Drink to peace and love.

Drink to stopping murder and violence.

Please lord. Never again.”

I drink my whiskey and look around the Guesthaus.

I’m thankful for good friends and some hope.

I don’t  know.

“Maybe one day man will learn a lesson.

We are just flesh and bone.

Need food and love to survive.

Not guns and hate.”
Do a silence prayer for the innocent.

Coyote
(Written in a bar in Germany 30 years ago. )
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© 2011 Coyote Poetry

 

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