Finally a new story. Love demand payment

Love demand payment.

A Poem by Coyote Poetry

Dance, sing and laugh. But remember. Treat love like the rice paper of life. Can be easily damaged and cannot be repaired.

Love demand payment.

Young soldiers with old eyes sat alone by the New Jersey Atlantic sea. Writing words upon old journal for few to see.
He wrote words with many meanings.
Reap what you sow.
Prey or predator?
Blessed or cursed?
Kind or ruthless?

Damn karma demand payment my friend.

I sat and I watched the Winter Atlantic sea. The surging water of the Atlantic, cold and heartless as the photos locked in my head. I left Michigan to escape my sad face in the mirror. To find a better death. Funny death, didn’t want me. The karma of life is fair. Made me learn the value of every life. I touched a thousand dead bodies, soldiers killed at Death Valley. I learn to pray for each one. I prayed each man found his way home to the safety of family and final place to be able to rest in the dirt of home.

I have read poetry in the city of New York. I found  common souls in the need of the words and understanding of life and death. A kind Poet came with me. She was a beauty. A Irish woman with long reddish hair, loud laughter and she liked the whiskey. Julie came to me by the sea and she asked me. Please read me a few of them poems. I hope you have written a poem for a red hair siren?  I told her. I shall give out a free poem for a  kiss.

She kissed me once, than kissed me twice.

Love is war

Your kiss, hot like a fierce fire.
Your body, warm and welcoming.
Your kind blue eyes, make me feel, wild and free.
I wish to fall into your reddish locks and never escape.
Dear lover. I’m here and you are with me.
Two strangers trying to gather the gold of love and embrace.

She laughed and danced on the lonely beach. Her Winter whiten skin so beautiful against the setting sun. She came to me and she wrapped her legs around me and fell into my embrace. She kissed me often. I enjoyed the whiskey tasting kisses and the warmth of her body on the cold Winter day. She told me. Time to go home and find some food. Can’t live on whiskey alone dear Johnnie.

We arrived at her small apartment. She tossed her shoes off and jacket. I put my jacket upon her jacket on a small love seat. She put in some Cat Steven into the cassette recorders and she went to the kitchen. She brought back cheese, lunch meat and some cold beers. She told me. I will shower and return. Please eat and relax. I smiled as I watched her wander to the shower. I liked her apartment. A small book collection on a small table. A television and not too much furniture.

Julie returned wearing a blouse allowing her bare shoulders to be seem and a short black skirt. Her skin beautiful and tender. She asked me as I gave her a beer. Am I beautiful enough dear soldier?  I liked her. Full figured and skin of white. A natural beauty. I told her. A perfect goddess for a man needing a perfect muse. She laughed and joined me on the large couch. Wrapped her legs across my lap and her large blue eyes were stealing my thoughts and want. She asked me. Are you saint or sinner? Blessed or cursed? Kind or ruthless?  I kissed her and I told her.

Can be both saint and sinner in a life. Sin is easy, being kind is hard. Few saints among the runes of living. Blessed or cursed?  Hard to walk down a narrow path and not know both. I’m cursed by create walls of safety and blessed to have met you. She smiled and she whispered. Maybe I’m not kind, maybe I’m the ruthless one?  I brought her near and I told her. Kind and ruthless. A deadly dance. I try to follow dear Grandfather wisdom. Lead with kindness and concern. Listen, not talk. Julie smiled and asked. Tonight we shall dance, sing and laugh. You will leave the old wars behind, forget the bad days gone and we will imprint a night of laughter and pleasure. Dear Johnnie, can’t live a un-finish life. You must go forward. Be like a painter of a new painting. Make new marks and directions. Cover-up the bad days with new dreams and hope. I told her. She was correct and she is not a siren. She was a muse.

Me and Julie laid together waiting for the night. Allowed the silence to bind two people. Sometime words are not necessary. Love is mercy, kindness shared and a lot of laughter. Whiskey can help.
Coyote/John Castellenas