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Touch it, Just Once, and Change the World
Mike Hammer
Crazy Horse was no Indian
I never knew him, but I can tell you that
The only time I saw him, he was on fire
screaming, cursing at beautiful speeds
across the plains of the Dakotas
Riding bareback, with an entire people behind him
His eyes were solid, white. He stared straight ahead only,
for a moment did he slow his pace, as he saw an eagle, and the eagle
was jealous because Crazy Horse was no Indian
he was a mountain, stronger than any other mountain God had ever made,
faster than any river ever carved, and straighter than any arrow ever
shot
He was a ghost, he was gonna live forever and,
he was already dead
He wasn’t a man,
He wasn’t an Indian
He was a dream, that all the Indians had. They followed that dream.
Entire tribes chased it, cornered it, tried to touch it- outsiders tried to kill it –but,
they never could, and they never will
I could have gotten a photograph, though
something to last
last longer than the scorched earth he left in the Dakotas
longer than his ashes, longer than chants to honor him, longer than the memory of a man
Longer than a dream, anyway
Mike Hammer
Crazy Horse was no Indian
I never knew him, but I can tell you that
The only time I saw him, he was on fire
screaming, cursing at beautiful speeds
across the plains of the Dakotas
Riding bareback, with an entire people behind him
His eyes were solid, white. He stared straight ahead only,
for a moment did he slow his pace, as he saw an eagle, and the eagle
was jealous because Crazy Horse was no Indian
he was a mountain, stronger than any other mountain God had ever made,
faster than any river ever carved, and straighter than any arrow ever
shot
He was a ghost, he was gonna live forever and,
he was already dead
He wasn’t a man,
He wasn’t an Indian
He was a dream, that all the Indians had. They followed that dream.
Entire tribes chased it, cornered it, tried to touch it- outsiders tried to kill it –but,
they never could, and they never will
I could have gotten a photograph, though
something to last
last longer than the scorched earth he left in the Dakotas
longer than his ashes, longer than chants to honor him, longer than the memory of a man
Longer than a dream, anyway
Vehicle movement
As I watched her walk out
another girl walked in, dressed in pink
three pink ladies rushed in after her
“Tow truck,” they yelled
Glass shattered, the front door went flying
and I saw a gorgeous tow truck
land on my best friend
A discombobulated herky-jerky death, it was
A disgusting death, with
a terrifying giggle
As I watched her walk out
another girl walked in, dressed in pink
three pink ladies rushed in after her
“Tow truck,” they yelled
Glass shattered, the front door went flying
and I saw a gorgeous tow truck
land on my best friend
A discombobulated herky-jerky death, it was
A disgusting death, with
a terrifying giggle
"Mike Hammer carries around a notebook in his back pocket, and jots
down poetry and short story ideas. He lives in Cleveland Ohio, likes
music and movies has a bevy of Writing, Marketing, Journalism and
Communications skills - including advertising, writing, layout and
design, event coordinating, brand marketing and PR experience. He is
a marketer and freelance writer, with degrees in Interpersonal
Communication and Creative Writing. Contact him at
rainermaria@hotmail.com."
The Poetry Warrior (c) Abigail Beaudelle - 2008.
All Poetry and artwork (c) the respective artists.
All Poetry and artwork (c) the respective artists.
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