Rebel Sons You've Lost Your Pas to the Hillbilly Stills (poem) by Sage Sweetwater on AuthorsDen

Rebel Sons You've Lost Your Pas to the Hillbilly Stills
by Sage Sweetwater → (All Poetry by Sage Sweetwater)
Rated "PG13" by the Author.

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Sweetwater in Hollywood film promotion for her Harley-Davidson biker film The Biker Chronicles: Outlaw's Revenge content marketing Authors Den poetry through endorsement from the Fortune 500 company Harley-Davidson, and inclusive of Ben Nighthorse Campbell, biker, Native American jewelry maker, and the U.S. Senator of Colorado (1993-2005) switching from the Democratic party to the Republican party in 1995.
The leather jacket is to a biker like the medicine shield was to the Blackfoot. The leather jacket is sacred and treated with the same great care and reverence as the shield, highly regarded as a medicine object. If the shield were to be transferred to another, it had to be exchanged in a formal ritual. At the end of the ceremony, the recipient paid the former owner with a horse. The warriors went to great measure to prevent the loss of its medicine. Rebel Sons You've Lost Your Pas to the Hillbilly Stills shifter held the native american heirloom to his ray-ban covered eyes he saw it all the biker watched a man fall he peered inside his dream vessel a calabash gourd sacred gift from a harley-riding native american mentor appointed to the durango colorado council of elders who goes by the name senator rocks perilous jagged layers of shale shifter hears the reverberating chirp of quail expressions carved so deep on stone by the grandfathers the trinity cliffs dreaming rocks scribed with rock art petroglyphs he sees the ancient writing on the wall the man dead from the fall murky illusions swirling holograms three-dimensional real grandfather winds blowing down from hardscrabble canyon painting the colorful death of oak leaf chill shifter hears senator's spirit speak not a dream wind dreamer mount iron horse take medicine spring water at smith creek look up in sky see eagle feathers fly milwaukee steel ranger somewhere in arkansas near walnut ridge there lives a wise old biker named papa harley tate orphan boy raised by a world war vet teaches good ozark ways calls birds with a whistle they fly out of the groves of thistle leaves a popcorn trail for the cave raccoon plants potatoes by the light of the moon rebel sons watch the dance of the ruffed grouse water moccasins are poisonous snakes not shoes jail - the shotgun shine blasts rebel sons you've lost your pas to the hillbilly stills Copyright Ms. Sage Sweetwater, Celebrity firebrand lesbian novelist

Reviewed by Morgan Merriweather

Reviewed on February 23, 2014

I appreciated all the information above and the poem but in particular got a kick out of the line snakes not shoes. Made me laugh, slipped in there perfectly. Enjoyed!

Reviewed by Ronald Hull

Reviewed on February 16, 2014

In your round up of rebels, I particularly liked your mention of my home state, Wisconsin. Although Milwaukee is a far cry from my county, Wood, the home of the most Native Americans, per capita in the state.

You left me wondering why a Harley riding Native American would become a Republican. But then, Cheney is from Wyoming and Campbell is from Colorado.

Ron

Reviewed by Robert Whitford

Reviewed on February 15, 2014

I liked the story this seems to tell of unforgettable people and special places. A great story with ripe images here Sage. I very much enjoyed the read. Bob