savio-reyes
the realist is a shame / sure I can easily scribble about the simple / but poetry / / poetry, like dreaming / is the opportunity / to manipulate reality / modify / shadow God and be the master / the ruler / of a gigantic world / of your own / that people will step into / breath the air you created / smell the fields you designed / taste the river you shaped / kiss the goddess you vowed into reality / love a woman you loved / see a bird not yet discovered / experience a Surrealality / you / the poet / has labored.
We were up all thru out the terrible night
sniffling like ******* addicts
like sick little youth 1930's depression oh the Great
our fat lips hung like dying mosquitoes in the coming brothel of winter and her long scorched dress
that I inflamed with my Vietnam stolen lover zippo of gasoline
in a Sober frenzy of jealousy
now her Glare is angled narrowly at lust
tobacco
coughing up and down side ways in dreams as if I were a butterfly addicted to cigars
we were up all thru out the night
counting our skin cells
watching the television laugh at our faces
He sobbed “how the orange metallic streets
bent to our theatrical emotions on 12th street”
oh the glory of our thoughts and touch was ransom
was devil
was god
was god watching in his leather seat?
Wearing his glasses
reading the Bible?
Or does he read Russian Literature
or does he only read Latin
I and I were up all last night
guessing Morphine
using the Sister's pay-phone copper to connect with silly 3 eyed hipster hookers
their eyes wide and green with white salt like a ***** lake
that you stumble upon drunkardly with a laughing Angel
High on Cough Syrup and mortality
amused
exhilarated
passion-ated by this new opportunity for Adventure's drawback which is death or Boredom
MY innocents
is deteriorating with Age
like the alcoholic richness of 100 year old Wine
sadly
money monday
didn't go to church
hope that lady with wisdom in her hands forgives me
then I ate
now I starve
clutching at the windows
painting a boy staring at me
wondering if I were real
As I wonder if his thoughts are my own
We were up all night
translating the moon's shadows and hiccups into finger paintings and strep throat.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
Seek love
you'll find open shores
of abandoned ships and
skinny ribbed cages bodies
their arms
covered in bottle caps of chicago brewed whiskey
seek love
you'll walk around the world alone
with a clock followin your back
testing the fortress of your soul
you'll end up
covered in michigan lake moss
on the street corner
with a wooden ode guitar
pamphlet of tunes
lovers gave you
seek love
your beard will grow
destiny will close her eyes
rest on your hairy shoulders
seek love
destiny will end up
on the concrete pedestal
mouth full of tulip petals
hands grown old
seek love
the song will end.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
Places to hide
Idaho
Nevada
Utah
Arizona
Places to fall in love
Italy
San Fransisco
Colorado
Places to never go
Texas
Places to watch the beach freeze
Michigan
Places to die
Greece
Momma big brown eye
So thin
got
snatched up
by those biblical folklore winds
Momma big love soul
in the sands.
Indian man
leather hands leather skin
alley way king.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
Bottles of wine
Bottles of women
Moon light eyes
too much wine
too many days
wanderin
where my good ol' feet may take me
Threw out winter's stain
beaten leather man
time to go
time to
catch that lizard snake train
disappear
to mexico
with that
girl
Hey angels
take back your wings
can't pray no more
prey more
Hey sister solitude
speakin
my mute
I'm comin' back
I'm comin' back
a place with no sands
a cool breeze
but no Beach
no Mountains or
Statues of yesterday
Hey
Wiji board devil
I'm comin' back
Gotta' go
i'll leave a postcard
at your
poorly lit front porch door.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
Sun comes up
up over that Highway
where I used to breath so easily
morning comes up
killin moths
killin
under the bed monsters
put on shoes
forget to brush his teeth
sun comes up
lite that
one more cigarette
Spring
and you're still not
in love
with that
green girl who sang blue songs
behind windows and liquid light
Sun comes up
jeans *****
shirt clean
Sun Comes Up
April
bring out the truck
with a broken ignition
Sun comes up
nothin to do
catch flies
watch the feline
hunt
Sun comes up
No place to go
No place you have to go
No place
to
make love in
Sun comes up
Trees green
kids walkin to the park
immortal
immortal
never gonna die kids
never gonna grow old kids
gonna fall in love kids
gonna laugh kids
sleep kids
momma kids
daddy kids
Sun Comes Up
slow
like fallin asleep
like bein a kid again
like bein
immortal again.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
Subconscious poetry
I miss my nostalgic energy
feeling the heat sun on my skin
wishing on a pebble
found it next to your high heels
your dress and hair bow in the trees
they were shaped like Texas
I miss the road
dead Kerouac soul
I need to fish for some morphine hallucinogen
degenerate again
no money again
lonely again
fine with that again
sittin alone with only the walls and the dog that ****** on my only blanket
I laugh
knowing that tonight
I'll walk down to the lake
watch the geese plagiarize flight
light a cigarette
that I bought with pennies
discovered behind the empty refrigerator
Subconscious poetry
Bob Dylan tongue
Jazz trumpet brass mind
1930's wooden night-club Italian music band dance floor soul
7 years old- never gonna die
20 years old- never gonna die
Foolish as a Child
Brave-ish as I can be
color my walls gray with left over paint
that we used to disguise our sail boat to cross the border
It's just me
the ***** floor
some words
some words
to do.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 3:11 PM UTC