caveboypedro's profile
AGE:
30
LOC: Rochester, NY
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: July 17
LOC: Rochester, NY
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: July 17
I am twenty-seven years old and I live in Rochester,NY. I have been writing for about eight years. Normally I do not show my work, but recently a close friend was deeply touched by one of my poems and convinced me to start showing them more. I also have written a couple short screenplays which have been filmed. I am currntly working on a full length screenplay and a collection of poetry which I hope to get published. I also like women,booze,and the Yankees.
Items
Version 1
1 Review
0 Comments
Before Dinner Her tits rested in the hands of a Klimt mosaic, golden brown, breathing through the icy embrace, un-jeweled-, in the evening’s long frozen palace there was laughter, stronger than the iniquity of self-haloed oppressors… calendars lip-locked with dry bedroom oxygen, a hand, reborn and risen to opposite limbs, drawn to the curvature of a singular porcelain lamp, baptized of soft violence and a setting sun… so the scenery expanded, out past the fiery perfumed divinity of sin, past...
Version 1
2 Reviews
2 Comments
The cat tails hide Cayuga ghost warriors- I look to the sky world to repent- corpses of trees decompose in a marsh next to a wide shaven field- this used to be Mohawk corn... the eldest of my sisters- but now, beyond the trees in the distance, crushing the earth... are stacks of rusted out cars with numbers painted on their sides.
Version 1
1 Review
0 Comments
Organic Turmoil Sun rays on a broken window frame generously coated in lead death plump little birds who know of revolution penetrate power lines in unison humble grass sprawled out lovingly for multi-racial children to play upon in the distance there is a violin singing to us singing songs unknown to bullets or credit reports notes unsung since baked from mud next to a garden I see two squirrels in conversation if only they knew of politics and cyber dating and death or the black oil which m...
Version 1
2 Reviews
0 Comments
Rusted out monuments black white moving photographs pigeon skin god walks among crackheads glass dick fire and brimstone child faces pressed against glass against anything transparent willing to walk wearily while weeping the grass is always greener when you cross The expressway.
Version 1
0 Reviews
0 Comments
Viagra mornings, combat boots, smiling witnesses, brazen images of copulation, molten piles of maple appendages, death glare, swollen graffiti, cellular inhabitants, joyful cerebral ceremonies, spiritual cattle, smiling willows, infant tears, moral comatose, fast red cars, heavenly slaughter, jesus lumps, death rain, mystified spirit war, handguns, social class ass fucking, dog worship, silent apartheid, prison wealth, demonic cherry blossoms, wireless psychics, little red garbage men, free T...
[ View all items ]
Reviews
This poem hit me close to home. As a struggling artist I felt this immedietly. Great content and there were some very valid questions inside this poem. Thanks for the read!
Very nive flow to this. I like your use of and texture of words. In some spots the poem could say less, for instance...Waiting at the shore where sea and land unite. ...we know sea and land unite at shore...sometimes, the more simple a poem, the more intense it reads to others. Thanks for the read.
I like the rythym of this piece. I'm not quite sure if I understand it or am supposed to...a little cliche in some spots, but overall nice. Thanks for the read. Keep writing!
The imagery in this poem is pretty fuzzy...kind of cliche to tell the truth. YOu should rethink this piece and try to make it more original.Thanks for the read.
[ View all reviews ]
Favorites
People








