trebor reyd Poems

Writing poetry
It isn’t nice I tell you
It isn’t flowers and kittens and butterflies
Oh, it can be…but not for me
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Emerald eyes
Tell me
Silken hands
Hold me
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Downtown
Canal Street
Backbeat to the rhythm
And blues
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Welcome to the Good News Channel
Let me introduce our illustrious panel
There’s smiling Betty your happy host
To bring you the best from coast to coast
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Cryptic psychotic
Tripped it hypnotic
Hints and slips
Thung thied lips
...

My fears are not of you
Wanting me to behave for you
Dance for you screw for you
Expecting my blood, to fuel your soul
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I am 1400' under
the waves
crawling through tubular steel tendrils
wrapped full circle in my claws
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poets are painters
words as colors
forms for brushes
your ear their canvas
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I brought you to this
for a time to make me
enduring in name
a legacy secured
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Here I sit
Staring
Daring myself
To admit for once
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