40 cents more…

40 cents more ———————————————————————————————- I called Scotland at 10pm, hoping for a proper goodbye, Beautiful Sheena answered her telephone and she  told me, Johnnie, I forgave you, We held love for a second… Continue reading →

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making teachers the scapegoat is cruel and harmful…

Originally posted on The Metta Garden:
it’s honestly just so ugly, how the rhetoric around these school mass shootings often makes teachers the scapegoat.? the expectations put on teachers is unrealistic. it’s cruel…

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Please tell me a story…

Please tell me a story… Lovely lady watching the sun rising from the east. Her wandering mind is dancing upon yesterdays deeds and today possibilities. I asked her. Pretty woman, please wrap your… Continue reading →

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Roses and lovers…

 Roses and lovers… “O my love, O my love. I said: Let me fall or stand, let me fall or stand, let me live or die, but this once hear me speak- O… Continue reading →

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Should of loved you more…

Should of loved you more… He left love doorway 2,500 miles away. The hardest and coldest man, he loved the whiskey and he loved the taverns. He loved the darkest days and he… Continue reading →

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You saved me…

You saved me… “Save one life, we know happiness. Save many lives. We know peace.” Once I knew everything and I learned. I knew nothing. Old age had taught me, Johnnie, you know… Continue reading →

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Knuckles red, knuckles bleeding…

Knuckle red, knuckles bleeding… Knuckles red, knuckles bleeding. My father fought and fought, wars that could not be won. He told me in his drunkenness state. He told me. I killed and I… Continue reading →

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if only

Originally posted on George Ellington:
https://soundcloud.com/george-ellington-978497601/if-only?utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing if only the earth journeying passionately through the starscould a voice convey expressing the night and dayas most hopeful harmonies seeding the sky with song, its voice…

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Memorial Day poetry. Old Soldier…

Old Soldier A Story by Coyote Poetry  Only Soldiers understand what another soldier had saw and felt. Strangers to war and violence cannot understand. When you are near death for too long. You appreciate… Continue reading →

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Maybe Bukowski….

Maybe Bukowski? A Poem by Coyote Poetry  Years ago. I met Bukowski in California. I didn’t know who he was, at the time. He read my work and he told me. Good stuff and… Continue reading →

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