Lone Wolf Sits With Chief A Mouth of Fire on the Road Nearing the Glades of Eternal Sleep
Lone
Wolf Sits with Chief: (A Mouth of Fire)
by:
Frogg Corpse
We sat at spring
Humming
over native flutes
Reed
and wind
Trying
to forget
The
cold of winter
Biting
e'er so close at feet
Nipping
nails, curling toes,
Thinking,
of the warm waters of yeuth
Flowing
over rocks;
Trying
to catch the reflection of your smile
In
small puddles, our hands clutch,
Small
memories we wanted changed
Day
dreaming into the past as a portal
Going
back attempting to amend our failures
Unthreading
time; unravelling moments,
Fighting
so hard in the dark
To re
walk our imagination
Removing
the roadblocks in our direction
Reflecting
on the waters lost in our fingertips
There
these years are long gone;
Grabbed
by the earth eaters
Devoured
by the Skin-Walkers
Swallowed
by the Windigo;
Faces
stretched miles along the river
. . .Slowly,
the daydream's gone.
I
reside inside myself, wolf: revolving.
Sharing
space of a convoluted world
Where
you went missing,
In the miles of our parting.
The wood flute sings at war with the self
In a
battle of you;
Where the crow caws blacken out the night,
Where
the traveler crosses
Weary
and tired,
Laying
his head
In
the despot of your silence
As
the kachina dances its last rain dance.
Maleficium
drinkers
Harvesters
of sorrow,
Strands of love severed
By
the space where too, men and lady wander. . .
Lone
wolf,
You have coursed your trail on all fours
Covering
the valleys in your footprints
Gazing
along the cliffs
Until
you are summoned to the circle
Surrounded
by dear Mustangs who cannot be tamed,
For
their road is full of thickets
And
every needle that pierces their hide
Instigates
their hooves to run.
When
the dust settles from the fear
You
have caused them
You will know Outsider,
That
the road traveled farthest
Is
the one walked most hard.
You
are a survivor. Like the weary man,
Until
it is your time to lay in the field
Letting
the great mother
Consume
you in her blanket of rest.
Sleep
by the fire Wolf,
before
you journey into the mountains at dawn.
Lone Wolf: on the road
By:
Frogg Corpse
He
walks his own path...
It's
not that he chooses to,
He
feels it is the only option he has.
He will die for art,
He
will stand for creation,
He
will roar for it be displayed
Where
the foundation of civilizations
Historically
recollect a vision;
To
inspire, to transform,
And
to implore; Expression.
The Lone Wolf will travel its roads,
With
a whisper in the background.
Punching the stars in unison
Calling
him toward where it resides,
He
will place his hide upon a chair
Resting
his weary head,
Speaking
so softly one must lean in to listen.
Time has unearthed art, from dirt.
It peels the old paint revealing behind it,
A
hidden mystery of the past
To be rediscovered in a time
Beyond
its creation.
A message lost and a message found,
Its
message interpreted, as a message now.
Lone
Wolf,
You
have walked many miles along the highway;
You
have crawled, you have bled,
Losing
pieces of yourself along this trail,
Yet,
the circle summons you still. . .
You
must wander again,
Crossing
the great ocean
Stand
in the fire, where the heart resides,
Surround
the mustangs with your howl
At
the place, where Love and War dance.
Lone Wolf: nearing the glades of eternal sleep
By:
Frogg Corpse
Hold your breath, it won't take long
You will struggle,
at-first,
But you know, to give in.
Knot your strings, and
pull your threads
Rest them soundly around
neck.
Like leash - it pulls in directions
Such as life...
What hinders your
professions
The fire will consume.
Your love gone - your
world numb
Do they know wolf,
That you have met your
threshold?
Do they know,
The damage that they have
caused in their silence?
Crushed of separation
Dead to attrition
Heart embers cooled.
Yesterdays blur - drawing
days longer,
For you are lost on your
trail weary wolf--
Falling to the exhaustion
of the road
When time approaches,
The suspense of news will
carry no woe
Walk away wolf -
Deep into the gaping maw
Give yourself to the
lady,
Empress of bone garbed of shade trappings
She in black dressings -
tugging at collar.
Let her guide you: to
where rest & rot dwell.
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