The ambrosia of the kiss and the touch…


  The ambrosia of the kiss and the touch
We had pretty places, ancient city and the Swiss wines for us to drink. The Kind city of Basel, Switzerland  took us in and allowed us to slow down and enjoy the days and the nights.
I told her. You are the prettiest thing I have ever seen, I love your face, I love your laughter and I love how you dance in the Spring rain.
She smiled and she told me. I have watched you since you came to my city. You have given in without a fight. Surrendered your dreams and hope, made friends with the enemy. We are in Basel, nuestro  ground for us. No army, no rush to be anywhere and only us, to reveal true heart, real words and shed the skin of fear.
I told her.
“You are as beautiful as the morning sun, arising.

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The Crazy ones..



The crazy ones
I remember you, you had fond desire for unplanned road trips.
You loved the tequila and the lime at noon.
You hated hotels and you loved sleeping by the sea in a sleeping bags.
You hated rude people and you loved the California fish tacos.
I remember you taught me,
I was more than a soldier and life was more than us.
I became a crazy one with you near.
I remember we tried to drink every beer in a wild night in San Francisco in a early Spring. The San Francisco policemen awoke us-up in the back of my truck in the morning. They laughed at us and pointed at the nearest coffee shop.
We became Monterey legends,
we suicide boarded the big Winter storms for weeks and
the Germans and Japanese photograph us dancing with the wild sea.
Thinking we were the insane folks knowing…

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We lies, we died and I still wanted you…


We lies, we died and I still wanted you
We lay in a bed of mercy, you and I, we bleed-out all the kindness we once knew. You told me often, “my soldier, you love war, whores and the drink. You return to me when you are afraid to die alone. Keep killing the emotion of kindness, I have left.”
I watched her pretty face and I saw small tears begin to fall. I told you. You and I, are good at running away and playing hide and seek. We have loved the whiskey, the new kiss and the long ride. We forgot to hold on to one thing to make life okay.
She smiled and she whispered.
“We lies, we died and I still wanted you.
Once we had pretty pictures,
we knew first kiss,
we knew first dance and we taught each other.
The bloody word.

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Everyone is a river…


Everyone is a river

A Poem by Coyote Poetry


A poem, for new book, The Island.


                                     Everyone is a river
Nicole sat in her bra and pantie, her bare feet moving and dancing in water of lake Superior. I adored watching her and I traced her body with my eyes. I loved her tattoos on her tender skin. On her back were wings of a angel, mixed of many colors making her back look like a rainbow after a soft morning rain.
A string of red rose bushes rose-up her left leg to her lower back. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She turn to me and she asked. You like my tattoos? My favorite tattoo is the flowing river upon my right arm. Dear Johnnie, everyone is a river, we…

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No mercy


No mercy

You found me alone by the St Clair lake and you wore a silky gray dress. I saw you from a distance and I watched you walked quickly toward me. I was alone with my Jack London and Dryden book writing by my beloved lake. I rose-up and you embraced me tightly and you whispered. Johnnie. Did you forget me? Did I disappear from your memory and your thoughts?

I embraced her tightly and I told her. I have never forgotten you. You stole my wishes and dreams many moons ago. I have wished daily to kiss your lips and taste your skin daily. My deadly silence prayers I do alone to the Lake St. Clair. I have wished often for seconds, hours and days to be in your eyes. My heart is empty without you and my pen is silence. I pray to the midnight moon for…

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I don’t remember how you look…


I don’t remember how you look

A Poem by Coyote Poetry
"Old thoughts and the desires to remember faces lost in time."   


                            I don’t remember how you look…

I don’t remember how you look.
Your eyes were blue, maybe hazel green?
I don’t know if your hair was golden blond or
maybe strawberry red?

I tried to describe you and each time I remember less.

I tried to envision you in my mind.
Each time I try. I remember less.

Sometime I dream of grasping your long hair.
Our bodies fighting each other for the sake of pure
pleasure only.
You calling out my name.
Sweet words of love spoken in the turmoil of sex.
Just kind words to reward the fulfillment of the body.
Not the heart.

I yearn to see you still.
Your hello’s were so sweet.
The goodbyes were long and written deep on…

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