Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2013
Whispering to Mother saint texas addiction city
There is nothing here in Kansas
the walls are all blue
the streets are too clean
I cant seem to find my face
in all this snow
the snow is melting now
it is something like spring
Youth is in love
where does that leave the old
the beggars
the dogs with cold brown eyes
I am selfish
with a fishing pole
looking searching
heating
for Love
the tall and beautiful girl
is in a red Cherokee SUV
4 wheel drive

Can we get lost in the snow
the lake is frozen
I kiss your brow

Ah,
Dear lover,
I know I never wrote you that orange letter
but I have written many
poems
dedicated
fuelled
inspired
by your longless
by your destination
that left me sad
smoking a cigarettes underneath an american flag all tangled up in its own stripes

Even now I think of your face
and how your nose was corrupted and shifted up
you're making the coffee cold
I must get back to the poem
I must get back on the road
I must
leave
and tie up my boots and starve myself in the mountains of Zen Buddhism

There is something ambient
about this weather
even the animals have colds
I saw a goose in my neighbours yard
a cop chased me out of the closed off park

I just wanted to see the frozen lake
I just wanted to walk the prosthetic beach
I just wanted to climb a frosted tree
stand with the canopy
envision I as a bee
or a bird
or a wasp
or a fleet of geese
moving South

β€œare you heading to texas?”
I ask the sorrow'd by cold mother goose
but she only looked confused
and walked past
and took flight

I found a bug
crawling on my lips
as I slept on the carpet
all the lights were on
maybe God was looking for something

My mind
My mind
My mind
I am in love with the sea
I am in love with the idea of women
I am in love with
wisdom
and serenity
I am in love with the ambient mysteries of my own mind
knock knock
I rang the apartment bell too
no answer
I shall crawl through the bathroom window
of my subconscious mind

the dishes are *****
and the small plastic thick television
is preaching God
and a large black man is sweating
waving his handkerchief

I wonder where God is
so I peeked underneath the diminishing green couch
with wooden spokes
sticking out
and I looked in the cabinets
and only found paper plates and wine glasses
then I climbed the roof
and checked under the moon
and I asked an angel
where nobility was
and she laughed
and finished painting her nails.
Savio
Written by
Savio  Kansas
(Kansas)   
  843
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems