Cry to Die
They came
They went,
All along the cell's
The prisoners wept-
No one cared
No one came the truth to see,
Just a hype
To promote the self-serving news on TV-
They're all
Still gonna die,
Trying to halt the insanity
Is just a low-down, filthy lie-
Those who should
Don't give a damn,
It's all just a part
Of the money-makers empty plan.
If we could
Sentence ' them ' to die,
For all the people they use
Just that once, we'd see the real tears they could finally cry.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Distance - Between
There is a
Distance.
Between,
Mortality and eternity.
Distance.
Between,
God and humanity.
Distance.
Between.
So much,
So far;
The Universe and
The burning stars.
Distance.
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Souls in the Wind
At funeral sides
With widows and friends
The passing wind cries -
Yet, never stops, never ends...
Every casket is laid low
Like the ever flowing wind none shall stay
For all must go -
There always shall be, a final day...
Life from somewhere comes
And to everywhere it goes
Yet, tis never truly done -
With what all, God only knows...
So when you feel the souls in the wind
Beginning to blow
All around once again -
Remember, with all the rest, one day you too must go...
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Forgotten
So many friends disappear
the reason never clear
Was it my broken poetic voice
or simply their cold hard choice
Did I something wrong imply
or did their love of my words merely die
they just turned, and walked away
without even a goodbye to say
Friends are fickle
once raging rivers of praise and love
run down to not even a trickle
a wave, or a last hug
If one true friend you find, anywhere
Thank God, and pray
They won't forget you
Even if they someday, turn and walk away
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Fall Feeling
There's a unique smell
upon the air,
late summer slowly mingled
with a dash of early fall in there.
The maples are turning
just a touch,
and something inside me feels it
just as much.
A breeze blows gently
through the sun's lingering rays,
truly these are
the most wonderous days.
The mind fails
at finding the right words,
while trying to speak of autumns voice
that my soul has heard.
I want so to hold
and embrace it all,
yet share it with everyone
this amazing feel of fall.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Look
We are apt so easily to lose sight
Of one another
Along our busy ways; until
Seperately we vanish,
Wondering where it all went...
One must - by necessity - look
Behind many words -
For, deep meanings are deeply hid
Beyond things sounding rather absurd.
What could a poet
But be;
If not a translator of
The yet to see.
Great beauty of thoughts
Abound,
In artistic visions
Unwound.
Stop - look - find:
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Faded Ages
Where do days reside?
Those faded ones
Whose light has died;
The ones of praise...and of regret
Those old, old days,
Way beyond the sunset...
Does anyone recall,
Or still alive
Who first hand saw,
Those gone days
Scattered far past the end,
Of the sun's long rays...
Can anyone -at all- state what fate,
Became of all those
Who once walked life's forgotten rows;
The folks of old, now laying so cold
In unremembered ages,
The earthly fallen, torn and gone, from life's short pages?
poem by Smoky Hoss
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A Pleasant Inconsequence
- does anyone hear
that something, so near
an ear, an eye
an eagle, a fly
a friend or a foe
where does it all go
I speak alone
words to a gamboling poem
left to right
not a care in sight
even the wind
in a rain decides to take a swim
souls soar to the clouds
where bodies are not allowed
those who hear
without fear
and who see
beyond the trees
and who shall fly
before a time to die
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poem by Smoky Hoss
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Skeleton Key
The skeleton key
Alive in me,
Always looking for more
Unlocks the souls door,
Into where thoughts are hid
Just inside my lid,
And where dreams start
At the center of my heart -
Things within, without
That I cannot talk about,
These things within, I want to give
And without, I cannot live,
This thin skeletal key
Goes about, mysteriously unlocking... all of me -
' Common to both (art and science) is the devotion to something beyond
the personal, removed from the arbitrary. ' - Albert Einstein.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Cosmic Scenes
I've written with poets
And conversed with kings,
Stood transfixed gazing at the mid-night sky
Listening to angels sing.
I've touched the light
Of a thousand distant stars,
And had my soul transformed
By the brilliance and ballance of the quasars.
And here have found, flowing through each life
Countless cosmic scenes,
Coming down all around
Like the first fresh snow of falling dreams.
Out so far
And in so deep,
Continuously moves the universal Music -
Singing to all the cosmic life we keep.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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