Smoky Hoss Poems
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 ...
Wrote Me A Song
Been thinkin' real hard
been thinkin' real strong
been thinkin' 'bout
writtin' me a song -
ya, writtin' me a song -
Got me a shovel
and a pile of dirt
got my name sewed on