Brian Oliveri

Freaky Old Town

I had written a large book of poetry that of which I have narrowed down to 175 poems.

Haunted muddy soil
southern chicken wrapped in foil
fantastic roofs that leak
older spirits ghostly creek
nightlife music halls
drunken tourist, dancing partner falls
legends passing through
horse and carriage, riding a few
warped senses of humor streets
living deadly souls in costume greets
freaks out in the air
type cast Hollywood characters everywhere
reflections corner, over shoulders
buildings made from smaller boulders
reputation good of bad
potential ironically gangster clad
virgins and street urchins
tradesmen skills selling out
boisterous street vendors, willing to shout
vampires darkness, sleeping coffins about