George Gaudet is the pen name of a charming Puerto Rican poet who was born and raised in New York city. He began writing poetry at the age of 15 and has been writing ever since( a little over a decade now). At first he used poetry as a means of venting his frustrations, But now the making of poems has become the main source of his stress. A blissful stress he's grown quite addicted to ( he believes the reading of a genuine poem feels like an injection of heroin directly into the head).
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Midnight dreams of my desire to possess you. Your shadow encircles me while fleeing; it is a shifting shape of love in bloom; it is the spark of tragedy in a piano tune. - And Chopin, I imagine poor Chopin, well-dressed and good-looking, demanding flames and flowers from you.
And now, as I sit here in my moonlit room, remembering; after the drinks and singing are through, and the bar has closed, and the shreds of voices and cigarette smoke are far from me...through the deserted avenues... at 5 O'clock in the morning ....on the corner of an empty street.... I stop to look at the moon and think of you.
The Poem That Fell Out Of My Headbone
- A potpourri
- the perfidy
- a perfect
- a punishment
- a prison
"think and know"
- a heart all pigs and pope
This room fits like a shoe
The bed's too low and small
and nothing's written on the walls
- mute walls with nothing much
to say at all walls
which are sometimes so thin and tall
- I've heard the loud lady next door
cough or curse the baby or tell
her lousy husband off...- the jerk
A door slammed of a sudden
and popped the bauble silence
with an intimate though pitiless big
Rattle- the-windows- loose- through-
and then this pome this dumb
pome fell out of my headbone:
I've stuffed and filled my headskull with pills
To kill the thrill of ill
- from moon to moon alone
Aloof in rooms of " No"
- Poppy poems
Pistils pills and snow
- Patterns prim
- twin axis of a soul
Which proffers its poultice
Of livid skin and bones
- a posthumous protuberance
- a past tense stiff disturbance
some future ghost postpones
in the sunless plural interim...
- decided then a little Yes
of a sudden twist though nothing more than dull
if not skillful
in its meridian of pendulous mood
in a meinkampf of mind
- a drowning fish and slow
- sinks and then the bubbles burst
themselves in verse
the water's silence
an emptiness and full....