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A Collection of Poetry
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Stories with Less Punctuation
A Collection of Poetry
By
Christian Z. Montalvo
Haiku 575
Dying tomorrow,
I have lived with my own;
I will die, grateful
On A
Writers
Favorite
Subject:
____Dying
Simple.
I was told once,
long ago
And so patronizingly slow,
That I might
That it would be best,
Perhaps
That I should
Go.
And it was from the lips;
of one I held so dear
that the fear gripping me so,
told me I shouldnt sneer
And my only action was to
Go.
And when I went,
I found a new place;
Above the sky I saw
a hundred souls being told,
Go.
From Then On
From time to time,
I lose time-
Slip it away in the pocket.
Then, punished!
You failed;
And you stole a pulse (or two)
Time to try again;
but you teach me, nothing.
On watch,
I can close my eyes-
everything is beautiful.
Like For Die
Hear the tweets of birds- all high above our skies.
Scrolling through the jungle, vine to vine;
midnight blues, please, oh, please, pour into the eyes.
With click and flicks I have an information mine.
Send me a message a hundred and forty words.
Twitching fingers and tracking eyes so unrestful,
unprepared to die;
say what you say. Say what they mean be mindful of the
herds.
Be wary of your saying, it can only be spry.
If I die, you shall see;
A hundred likes, please oh, please, forgive me.
Ode to Silence
By saying it is silent, it breaks the air;
An eternity of particles awakened.
With recognition, its left to despair
All thats sapient can be mistakend.
But drown in water- so shhh, so still;
and let the truth escape you. Please do not
let go so young, make the old take the spill;
bleed the colors, wet, oozing, clear the rot.
In the night, become the fears of the silent;
vanish with your promise of warm spring waves
to come againdown the road, a step away from tyrant!
Give up! tickles a tongue; but lend hand to brave.
Release yourself- old and brittle. You will come again.
Be with yourself, breaking some silence. Come again.
ON
THE
WORLD (AND THE PEN)
The Name of this Poem is: Clock Heads
Heel to Toe,
Bodies in lines and in rows.
We wait for minutes unknow in a world that cannot stand still.
Hand in Hand,
Money trails behind where we stand.
We wait for minutes unknow in a world that cannot stand still.
Bumper to bumper,
Until the waiters become jumpers.
We wait for minutes unknow in a world that cannot stand still.
We wait for the moments of stopping,
where the running ceases and the clocks freeze,
left alone we will stand in the breeze.
We wait for minutes unknow in a world that cannot stand still.
The Title of This Haiku is Longer than the Haiku itself
(Actually its Not Longer than the Haiku Until Ive Told You
That the Previous Statement was False)
***
All these god damn lines
Laid out with nothing to lose;
Make no sense to me.
The words from my mind;
where do they disappear to?
It seems that nothing this great, this curvy, could ever fit on
something lined
Ive learned;
well I have seen
That the words mean less and less to just be.
So be as it may, and be as it will
I will hesitate but not regret to pick up what once was a quill.
For the shameless rhyming,
and the wilting girls
the pen will twirl.
And last but not least;
something tangible will burn
the people will mourn and the words will surpass the urn.
Live long they may,
but who will know;
The words from my mind?
A GOOEY ABYSS CALLED LOVE
ITS KIND OF LIKE A CYST
One Day, Day One
Ive known you for so long
I havent really known you for much longer than a song.
Eleven days have been eleven months.
Baby, my darling, the way youre in my heart is only a hunch.
Ive known you for so long.
It happened like falling quickly. Wrong.
But one day it felt like day one.
Day two, felt like month two. I wont ever be done.
Ive known you for so long.
This poem makes no sense.
Youve scrambled my mind into an incohesive mess.
I do no longer rhyme, its just going on and on
Unravelling the writer
Kind of like my heart.
Unravelling your song.
OF YOU
If my face could be your mirror,
I could save a thousand words.
Think all the work my lips could
do,
unheard.
I have thought about it.
That maybe I would lose myself.
But to be a reflect of you,
that has infinite worth.
Goodbye For the Books
Meet me at the river my love?
Wear a dress all done up;
Blue to overshadow the expectations to create envy in the
doves.
Meet me the river; I need water to fill my cup.
Little babe, all buttoned down
I won't be gone too long now
But darling, darling, I shan't come back to you as you are now.
Little babe, all buttoned down why don't you unbutton now?
SLAIN/GAIN
Fourteen claws to shred
Through my beating Heart.
A thick ebbing flow of red
Yet never quicker to want more: I dart.
Bile rising, a slow burn choke
My lungs struggle to tame my chest
Your fingers dance, they evoke
I want your worst because your worst is my best
Quaking in my legs, heavy weight
Champion of my mind
Ive latched on and taken the bait
A thousand moments, seconds Ive pined
And to love has been more pain
But to be loved perhaps it would have waned
Yet you decide I offer no gain
So my heart, my dear, you have slain.
As I Lay in Bed, All Alone
Dig a little deeper--
dont you see,
just maybe, you haven't hurt me.
But yet I cry;
falling off the cliff --
a great, big, mighty, (last) swan dive--
right into that abyss .
and if tonight I do rest;
promise me! Oh promise me;
it will be the best.
Not a rest tamed in awakening, or even threatened by the breeze-
but one enslaved as a symptom of the disease.
KIND OF A
POLITICO
This is A Bed for the Whole World
Weighed down.
Down the river we go to our depth,
Flooded in the forever waters of our success-
Success which is defined in burlap bags of manufactured forrest.
One dollar for one minute of ridged serrated satisfaction,
To solidify the sadistic sanity of Man.
No Woman found here. Her satisfaction?
In seventy cents to the dollar, for work distant from the heart
or unattached from the womb.
Woman no cry no more?
But a different stereo screams silently in the ears of those who
have tuned in,
Begging for a back that has no ears to evolve into believing.
Struggle has long existed, excessively extant where there should
be extinction.
Looking up is often where down is found
An empty-ness of what is not there filling the eye of the
beholder.
Yet there is a creature immune to the pull of negative space-
One who rolls and riles in the raging, roaring river of revenue.
Riches heaped in the happening and havoc of blood that sinks
thicker than water.
Turn down the sheets
Of laundry done, of the bed that has been made.
The person laying next to you, soured in a slick sheen of
eminent exhaustion,
Broken down, only to bare the bruises of You.
An urgent sense of perseverance and self sacrifice to fulfil the
Role
They are done,
You are here,
In the bed We must lay in,
Together.
This is A Bed for the Whole World
*Read the
Fine Print*
Flag Summer
Legs, bare, longer
than the-
lines of cocaine-
snorted sea water
into the noses-
of children, of men,
of running
down, down
jump up, jump
jumping hop-
scotch in dads-
glass blown vases of
moms-
filled to the-
brims of summer caps
that crowd the yard.
Summer smoke, chokes
kills the cow
-ards jump off the
cliff
swan dive into the-
WATER! one dollar;
fresh! fresh!
fast-
America
AMERICA
american
Land of the free
-dom fighters
give us our guns!
well shoot
fireworks for fun;
games;
gains of
hot faith in Jesus
Jesus Christ
almighty-
groans through the
grins
and the screams of
the screwed;
screws in the walls
of my new tree-
houses burning down-
ashes, ashes
we all fall
down the rabbit's
hole-
ding hands with
lady;
liberty to wear
nothing but the bare
bear.
Rebuild! Rebuild
chant. chant. chant
until enchanted.
ten years coming
waiting
wanting
sawdust and splinter
rebuild. rebuild.
two more years.
debt.
-bit card
transactions
buy us our guns
buy us our large
large
large
asses.
Pass! pass!
the torch. the
wallet.
the mother. the
father
time aging our money
in god we trust
to screw us over
somewhere.
Dusty choke
biscuits in a
country oven.
easy baked-
stoned and tripping
over the sidewalk
cracks
breaking our mothers
back home living
where family is love
and
love is all you need
cries the stereo of
the old bags
bags bags.
macys let us
consume
the bags the bags
will not stop us
from becoming hags.
well die with a
bill of ten
thousands of
dollars cry the
whores on the
streets.
Cry me a river.
cry in a song.
riversong obsession.
regression!
regression!
the fat teenager
the lone teenager
the single lonely
depressed
sit on their ass and
watch the TV that I
watch.
sit down. sit down .
regression.
tv will corrupt the
brians!
zombies coming
a world obsessed
with the end of the
world
with dying.
so cry. cry cry.
In the summer we
will form our fight
clubs to dance in
clubs Ive never
been in.
summer of the flag
ships going down
town into the clubs
we venture.
curious teenagers?
no curious george
mucking up
fucking up the flag
summer.