I Did Not Die (Butterfly Vision)
I drempt I was a butterfly
In a hurricane;
The world was the storm,
I just wanted to fly...
The wind controlled
But could not contain me
For I would not quit -
Trees and mountains moved
All was tattered and torn
From the earth's core
To the surface of the moon...
Still I would not quit,
My desire to live, too deep
My heart too sure, too strong...
For years the savage storm raged
On and on...
My wings bent and nearly broken
The suns light gave out, ceasing to shine
Black smoke hid the sky
In that tremulous passing time...
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Ubiquitous
Through the ages
By way of old faded pages
An eternal word
Has been spoken...
Hope enters a weary world
That's long been soiled and broken;
A cry heard, a need met
An answer given in a message sent
From where all is understood
With a Word that surpasses time
And goes straight to the heart
Of all mankind;
777 endless echoes come prophesying
From an incomprehensible depth far beyond
Angels singing and giving an ancient song;
The completion of the vision
From whence was first given
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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In The End
Jesus stands
With the very scourge in hand
That ripped his own flesh
So very long ago.
It's the end of all time
When every woman and man trembling stands
Awaiting - certain to receive each their own due.
As all walk, or crawl, to his side
Meekly expecting to get the endless lash...
What a surprise, when he hands it to them
Turns and offers his own deeply scarred back.
-One by one we all lay the flagra down
And dropp to our knees upon this holy ground
Overcome with joy
Of the final sanctification
As God himself lifts up everyone
Issuing each their own true name
In this the last and greatest eternal Revelation.
The last to arrive
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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What Are We Missing?
Drops of rain
Wear upon an old bit of forgotten copse
Laying alone in a fallow field
All the different shapes and shades
Of stains and grains
Write the color and flavor
Of the soul in the wood.
-Who this beauty shall ever see?
To whom is it given, as intended,
A beautiful gesture
Of grace and love
Redolent mystery, only
In the quiet parts of nature...
Oh, how much more
Pure and simple beauty
In our daily hurry and worry
Do we miss
And even care not to see?
-By the making of humanities own hands,
And blindly narcissistic plans
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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God Is
God is
A verb
A slight movement
Seen
A quiet voice
Heard,
He lights the
Way
He starts and ends every
Day,
He is
He does
He's a
Warrior
He's a
Dove,
God is masculine femininity
He is the great
Struggle
Always at work within
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Vision at Little Bighorn
I went to Little Bighorn
On a hot summer day,1987,
I wondered if the Seventh Cavalry
Was in hell or heaven -
Out there all alone
I came upon the old General's ghost wandering around,
He kept glancing far away
While staying close to the ground -
I'll never know for certain
If he saw me or not,
He just kept wringing his hands
As if he couldn't stop -
Upon the path where he paced
Blood dripped from his boots,
It soaked in deep and wide
Down to the prairie grass roots -
From way down in this hallowed ground
I heard the dead soldiers cries,
The agony of the lost
Who so long ago on this spot died -
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Duke and Roy
Hang up your old hat
Put your boots in a box
Trade in your good horse for a poor house cat,
Set your saddle out for sale
Let your ponies go unshod
Grass has grown long over the trail...
Hang your spurs
In a corner of the cabin window
Sit by and listen
To the lonely Western wind blow,
Sing one more cowboy song
For the real men
Who've rode on;
The Duke and Roy are long gone.
The great West
Will never be the same
As America and the movies
Together hand-in-hand go quite insane,
No heros left to be found
No decent men still
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Theocentricity (being touched by touching a rock)
What is this magnificent desert rock I have found?
Perhaps a piece of some sacred ground?
Or a grand work of ancient art
from the depths of a great creator's open heart.
-Mystery rides redolent in the air
Beauty abounds and distinct divination is to be found,
Everywhere.
The wind sings its sacrosanct song
With it the trees softly sway and dance along.
All of nature sings,
And the Wonder of redemption
Awaits in the wings...
The sunset covers the Western horizon with blood,
Washing the troubles of this day
Forever far away,
As God watches and blesses from above.
A full moon giving grace
Flows through the desert night
Allowing a view of
The most wonderous sight:
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Returning
Then - that tender, gentle age,
When I loved Jesus...
More than I knew the world.
And then - those difficult days,
When the world was heard, calling,
Swearing great allegiance to me...
I succombed, believed... finally fell.
Again and again;
Along I went, into the current.
The world became my obscurant.
How easily - and sadly - had I gone;
All that time, trying something to find,
Singing an obsequious song.
Though in the far distance - always - I heard
A much different sound,
True music played on, and on.
Not in my mind,
Not in my head,
Truth in my heart,
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Landscapes of Living
A farmer late one night
standing alone in his field,
seeing a satellite cross through the dark...
finally realizes his fate is sealed -
A miner 30 years
in the dungeon of his work,
goes to the doctor one day
only to discover how bad that old mine really does hurt -
Time steals a baby
and shortly returns an old man,
gone just long enough to build a casket...
with and for his own two hands -
An ancient riverboat captian speaking to an old brake man
as they rode upon a Greyhound bus,
was overheard sadly saying:
what in the awful world has become of us? -
A fly from Mexico
was found recently in the Yukon;
nothing certain is known of the goose
that it rode in on -
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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