ISLAND HOPPING

I've sweated
& absorbed
hundreds of cultures
while your blood
courses with thousands.
My island
is steel.
Your land
is sunshine.
We shake
from the glint
of refraction.
The coronets
are filled
with blood;
the games
are yet
to begin.
Nature & man
are majestic
& depraved.
Mad desire
moves all.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

TO MAURITIUS...WITH LOVE

The blues
will tell
you...rock
'n roll
rockers
& punks
& hip
hop
artists,
the mad
painters
and soon
to be mad
civilians;
they will
shout,
scream
stomp
& stroll
down the
avenues
of the
dead;
Madagascar
will moan
& Arkansas
will sway
to the harps wind;
glass will hide
underneath a dream
of white while horses
run away
over the hills;
a deep bone ache
abides like a good
slide guitar
in a whiskey walk...
There is no better love
than the one that's
lost and
you can appear
like magic;
I've made it easy
for you:
I'm listed.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

MY FRIEND FROM MAURITIUS

is nameless,
faceless,
formless.
Just the way
I like em.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

SOMEBODY FROM MAURITIUS

rang my bell
in the middle of the night
a hundred & twenty-one times,
but I was sleeping--
didn't hear a fucking thing
'til this morning,
when I saw someone
went fucking crazy
on my poetry blog.
I didn't know
where Mauritius is
until I Googled it:
Africa, fucking Africa,
very beautiful.
Who is it?
Male or female?
Female, I hope.
So much interest
should not go
unrewarded...
& had to stop
myself: Savage,
I said, take it
easy; you're a good writer,
but a fucking dreadful human.
It was then
I picked-up
this pen...
& there
you have it.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016