Three old poems. Young man eyes.
The whore bath
A Poem by Coyote Poetry, Written in 1992
Sometime we must think and make wise decisions.
Large shining teeth,
telling me the way to heaven.
I will find my way to paradise by the gift to his christian cause.
His teeth seem to shine brighter.
His mumbling of a thousand words,
leave me feeling dirty.
I get a damp cloth and wipe away the words of a greedy man.
The captain told me.
” I own you. You do what I say.
Even to death.
I try to wander away,
but he keeps speaking.
I feel dirty and go to the latrine.
I get a damp cloth.
Another whore bath in a life where the words are eating away at my soul.
I sit in a classroom.
The instructor asked me?
If I was ordered to kill.
I tell him I would kill him first.
But my words become weaker with each second the instructor speaks.
He shower me with his blood song and I began to understand.
The sweat pours down my face and I go to the bathroom.
One more whore bath for a man drowning in useless words.
Forced to accept for a few pennies.
Beliefs only a mercenary could believe.
Maybe if I was a high paid whore.
I could live with the things I must do.
But nothing as bad as a cheap whore.
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
Old poem (1980) with a rewrite. Anger can lead us to hell. After the pits of hell. Can’t get worst?
Baby, I told you.
Ain’t no heart in my chest.
I’m just a body that does the daily functions.
I died a long time ago.
I could tell you a story,
but my words are even locked up now.
You are young.
Still able to love.
Don’t give your love to a man who eyes are dead.
It is myth.
That you can bring back the dead to life.
Cold steel can only melt on the trip to hell.
When you can’t remember the good times,
the tender moments.
You are just a body waiting for the end.
I have the hunger to touch beautiful things and
I’m well trained.
I will eat you alive.
Leave you for dead.
I won’t care.
If you are laying in sadness and pity.
Cool steel is my name.
My hunger is to look into the eyes of dark Angels.
Who will dance the twisted dance of who can punish the other more.
I may tell you I love you.
Just words. Just a means to get you to invite me into the
warmth of your warm flesh,
till I release my desire into flesh and bones.
I was told time heal all wounds.
One more lie, given to us by people trying to pry the
kindness out of us.
I don’t desire love,
I don’t want your pity.
Don’t need nothing but to dance in the heat of the warm flesh.
If you want me to love you, my child.
You should escape now.
For the wall of my heart is mighty tough.
On my trip to hell.
I won’t tell no stories.
I was the man called Cold Steel.
I told you I’m dead.
If you are a fool.
Try to break down the steel wall.
I will kiss you goodbye,
I will watch your tears,
I will tell you.
You wasted your love on a man with a steel heart and no emotion.
I will leave you without feeling any regret.
So my child.
For something can’t be changed.
I’m dead and buried. A long time ago.
I can’t remember when or why I died.
Cold steel is my name.
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
We can’t escape the bad or the good done in a life.
My sister told me. “You have changed. ”
She told me. “You saw too much shit and your mind and eyes are cold..“
I told her,.
“War isn’t personal.
You do what you are told. Try to forget and move on“
I kissed her forehead.
I told her. “War was easy.
This world falling apart around me.
I don’t know what to do.?
That the crazy shit I don’t understand.”
Up in the morning before five.
We don’t need no sunshine.
Organization, discipline, three square meals a day.
Old SGT. say. “It will be all okay.“
Young boss at work asked me too many questions.
I told him it is not for him to understand.
When you stand tall at attention. Salute a M-16, boots and helmet of a dead soldier.
You join a club.
The soldiers that lived must carry on with their buddies stories and memories.
Drink a beer on the day of their friends death. Can’t allow them to be forgotten.
Lying on cold ground.
Waiting for a hidden enemies.
You slapped your magazine to ensure it is loaded right.
You light up a cigarette and hope all things will be alright.
Going to Iraq with my gun.
Going to kill some Iraqi sons.
Generals sent Division of soldiers.
Names don’t matter.
Reaching for more stars.
Mama and Papa sit by the phones.
Wife and family pray for the day their soldier come home safe and sound.
Soldiers talk about kids and woman.
Takes up most of our time.
No-one talks of dying.
Ain’t no race or religion.
Protect your friend back and he watched your back.
Soldier do right and wrong things.
A lucky man can walk away from all the shit and forget.
The shadow of war find you one day.
I stood with a mother of my friend killed in Iraq.
She held me up.
I saluted her son’s gravestone.
I go to the corner bar with other Veterans.
Drink to friends not here and missed.
Maybe baby sister is right.
The shadows are always with me.