Frequencies of Flow

By Bud Garso

Preface

This collection of poetry was written roughly between 2005 and 2010. I have put the book together in a way that is enjoyable one poem at a time or also as a whole. The poems are arranged by subject within the chapters, but they are also arranged from beginning to end to reflect a journey. This journey moves through darkness to light, with romance, anger, and sex in the middle. Be warned, it gets a bit graphic towards the end of the second chapter, but all within the beauty of truly deep love.

I hope something within this book resonates. Thank you, enjoy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bud Garso
• Release date: May 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301171552

Bud Garso

I am an artist and entrepreneur. My favored mediums are skateboarding, poetry, photography, writing, performing, or whatever the moment calls for.

Book preview

Preface

This collection of poetry was written roughly between 2005 and 2010. I have put the book together in a way that is enjoyable one poem at a time or also as a whole. The poems are arranged by subject within the chapters, but they are also arranged from beginning to end to reflect a journey. This journey moves through darkness to light, with romance, anger, and sex in the middle. Be warned, it gets a bit graphic towards the end of the second chapter, but all within the beauty of truly deep love.

I hope something within this book resonates. Thank you, enjoy.

Frequencies of Flow

Bud Garso

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter I

Awakening

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Dirt

Forgive me for getting deep,

but I had to dig under to get away from those around me.

They’re completely unlike, yet somehow the same,

barking in cages enraged

in a dog pound—filled, locked, sounds.

I had to get underground because it was too loud.

A coward and bound up to a self made makeup.

Drowned and thrown fell the air out my lungs.

I dug by hand till it felt like flying,

ascending down laughing and crying,

a crazy man in a pit dying.

More pure and whole than those going normal

in front of a TV or mindset money fold.

Oh, there again I go judging what’s not my own,

gloat un-grown little known of this world.

I’m blowing my own calling it the ultimate,

so I take a step back—maybe we’re all behind the rest.

All the stage hands for the world around us,

questioning director and the actors’ reliance.

Had to dig down to know I stood on