Comments about Smoky Hoss
Come and see the old poet
Laying in his bed of ashes and dust,
His love in ruins
His mentality frozen by restless rust,
His hungry heart emptied of it's fertile blood
His souls melodic purpose nearly gone,
The mellifluous music now so silent
The end, of a once wonderful and powerful song.
What happened to this poet
With dread you may ask,
The ancient story ofcourse
The evils of age and wear, and so damned many things out there
Working away at his heart, fulfilling their wretched task.
When poets speak truth and beauty into this old ...
All is not after all
In fancy feathers fraught
And golden glowing style,
Tis better still
To lonely scale the darkest night
Naked 'cept thy own will
With none other than
Creations single guiding Light;