Category Archive: john coyote

Hey brother, hey sister.

Hey brother, hey sister It is January 8th and the cold of Winter is upon me.   The slowness of January allowed me to remember friends alive and gone. Today  I remember young men… Continue reading

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The poet and the naked lady

 (Watch the videos. Amazing.) The poet and the naked lady I fell in love with a long legged woman, her eyes of never-ending questions and her flowing auburn hair stole my voice and… Continue reading

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My kind friend, I remember.

    The last time I saw your face, my kind friend. I remember. When we are blessed with youth and vinegar. We don’t know. We have few mentors and people who shall… Continue reading

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Johnnie singing the blues.

 Johnnie singing the blues I am living and I am dying, I am moving and grooving to some heavy jazz. Dreaming of your pretty face and wishing to hear your voice. My secret… Continue reading

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The value of one life

The value of one life Men in offices, in Washington D.C. Screaming out, kill, fight and murder those son of bitches. They are the enemy? ———————————————————————————————————- Maybe the enemy are with-in the walls.… Continue reading

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Windmills of your mind.

  Windmills of your mind Grandfather told me often, life move quickly, make the good day last longer and forget the bad days. Now old age is upon me, the windmills of my… Continue reading

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Nothing remains the same

Now nothing remains the same     Your name came to me late in the midnight hour. Brought back the canvas of your perfect body, kind smile and your beautiful face. Your name,… Continue reading

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La petite mort

La petite mort She was a portrait of beauty. Her love was locked away, waiting for the perfect man and the gentle embrace. She asked me. Was any kindness or good left in… Continue reading

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A love story

   A love story You were going to be a dancer, a poet, going to save our world. I was content to be in the reflection of your eyes. I told you often… Continue reading

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The willow tree

The willow trees Old poet told the girl. We must try to go back to where we were, if we can. The bright eyed girl asked with wonder, dear poet, I come to… Continue reading

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