dreamt i was a poet
&
writin' silver sailin' songs
words
strong & powerful crashing' thru
walls of steel & concrete
erected in minds weak
&
those asleep
replacin' a hobby of paper candy
wrappin', collectin'
potent to pregnate sterile young
thoughts
i dreamt i was this poeta
words glitterin' brite & bold
strikin' a new rush for gold
in las bodegas
where our poets' words & songs
are sung
but
sunlite stealin' thru venetian
blinds
eyes hatin', workin' of time
clock
sweatin'
&
swearin'
&
slavin'
for the final dime
runnin' a maze
a token ride
perspiration insultin' poets
pride
words stoppin' on red
goin' on green
poets' dreams
endin' in a factoria as one
in a million
unseen
buyin' bodega sold dreams . . .
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film pinero
From guest jon (contact)
ive just watched the film pinero lifes raw young blood i have cancer cold selfish life but very very human. -
Buenisimo!!!
From guest Carlos (contact)
Tremendo poeta era el hermano... keep it coming... see you at the bodega, and don't forget your thoughts... because de las mias me quedan pocas.
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