With nearing of completing the Jett Durango Trilogy with the third installment feature film, 'Jett Durango: My Heroes Have Always Been Outlaws,' it must be said that the poetry of Celebrity Firebrand Sage Sweetwater is said to have sparked a revolution from one of her first defending poems on Authors Den, Creation of a Dime Novelist: Preachers See My Moccasin Eyelets and the highly commercial Hollywood follow-up poem The Powder River Hymnals rumored to have more truth than fiction in Sweetwater's personal life which inspired her to take Religion to the big screen. Sweetwater's stories are diverse with interesting characters who bring to life religion on the big screen, religion complying to her standards, not the other way around.
Creation of a Dime Novelist: Preachers See My Moccasin Eyelets and The Powder River Hymnals are the two powerful Hollywood poems in Sweetwater's published book, Night of the Foal: The New Riders of the Purple Sage which Sage adapted to screen bringing the Jett Durango Trilogy to a powerful finale filming in Durango, Colorado with Director Wendy Crouse DreamReal Pictures and Eddy Fitzgerald Executive Producer DreamReal Pictures with three feature films setting the course for the Jett Durango TV Series. I want to thank everyone involved in the production of my films. You make it happen. Thank you.
Creation of a Dime Novelist: Preachers See My Moccasin Eyelets
silver inlaid zodiac
skirts on your stirrups
pour fire to your desire,
saddled upon the
wind, firebrand's breath
slips under your black cape,
passion brands
your hot-scalding flesh,
reins soaked in your hands,
firebrand's sledgehammer
blows against the metal, spike
bar pries out a rail from the track,
stop the train,
get the Colt revolvers,
disguised as preachers,
preachers see my moccasin
eyelets from the windows, brand
me as an outlaw of God,
wheels lock, grind and
squeal, metal sparks explode,
dancing in the air like witch's fireflies,
creation of a dime
novelist, flames glow
from the firebox,
branding the land
with the Devil's coals,
firebrand saves the Bibles,
pulls them out with a
grappling hook that dallies
from the rope on your saddle horn,
collection plate "railroad money"
burned, strongboxes melted, preachers
charred keys at the end of the line,
with the second-ago
selective memory, like the
train leaping from the track,
you leap from your saddle,
we fuck, slamming to earth,
grinding deep trenches into the soil,
screaming passion one of
the boldest ambushes of religious
lies we have been called upon to chronicle,
no bodies, no
twisted metal, no
blood of Christ deceivers,
telegraph repairman found
only an empty whiskey bottle and
your black cape hanging from a telegraph cross,
they sniffed the pussy
fire, the haunting sound of
an organ played in the erotic air,
the newspaper reported
it as only the boldest lesbian
tryst hot enough to stop a train,
saddled upon the
wind, firebrand's breath
slips under your black cape...
I...
Copyright 2007 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist
The Powder River Hymnals
I ride for the
Powder River Hymnals
from Wyoming to Montana,
the Land of the Big Sky, the
prairie preachers put up the Devil's
Rope, barbed-wire so the firebrand's
stories don't leak ink, the presses roll,
stopped off to
look at my curvy
reflection in Crazy
Woman Creek, tributary
of Powder River, I stare down
the prairie preachers without batting
an eye,
vital hunting ground to
the Lakota, I wage war
against encroachments on
lesbian territory; site of Red
Cloud's successful 1866 war against
encroachments on Lakota territory by
miners heading into Montana,
thundering revenge, hail fire
and brimstone conformity, prairie
preachers put up the Devil's Rope,
barbed-wire so the firebrand's stories
don't leak ink, the presses roll,
the dust fogs, longhorn
cattle trailed by the drovers,
at Donkey Creek Junction, I saw
a beautiful sight, a woman riding *hell
bent for leather, I rode clit-hard to catch
up with her, my pussy on fire, I followed the
erotic smell of her mane of hair, wind-tossed
foreplay in the excited air,
she was the last
good woman to walk
through the church doors,
the preacher pulled the rope
on the church bell, I stared down
the prairie preacher without batting
an eye, struck the sulphur on the match,
"God knows I ride for the Powder River
Hymnals - may you see the Light" - the
prairie preachers put up the Devil's Rope,
barbed-wire so the firebrand's stories don't
leak ink, the presses roll, he shut the white
double doors,
I could smell her hair
from the back pew send
me a message, I sent her a
message back, Out I ride for
the Powder River Hymnals,
I rode through
the Panther Mountains
where good man legend
DeVault's romantic voice
echoed up to timberline,
my spurs fucked the wind
I rode wild, cut through the
brushy draws on Forbidden
Mountain where I fucked the
last good woman to walk through
the church doors,
wanted dead or alive,
the timber lords, preachers,
Bible aficionados,and lesbians,
not all that is conflict and controversy
withers the lavender meadows...ride for
the Powder River Hymnals,
prairie preachers put up
the Devil's Rope, barbed-wire
so the firebrand's stories don't leak ink,
the presses roll...
I...
Copyright 2007 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist
