[Surrealist Dark Poet]
A young man of twenty-three, living in Mountain View, California who has posted on Poemranker, Poetry Critical, & various Ez-Board poetry forums under his two primary pennames SupremeDreamer & SDreamer-- other pennames include DreamerSupreme, Don-Quixote, Y2kSlamPoet, and Shit-Crumpets.
Most of his work is written while binging on meth, alcohol, cannabis, hallucenagenics, or in imaginative trances; his style varies- it has been called dark, humorous, affirmative, philosophical, vulgar & innovative.
He is well known in certain poetic communities as an offensive, up-front comic hooligan-- And quite proud of it.
---Extended detail & update... here be the flowing of emo fluids.
He endured a childhood hell, tortured by the twisted psychosis of his mother, whom he eventually rid himself of just befor turning thirteen. Soon after though, he watched his father rot away on chemotherapy. When the cancer became terminal he then bore witness to every detail of his father's downward spiral into death.
Sept. 22, 2002, life gave him a late seventeenth birthday present: finding his father cold and lifeless, the end-note to what had been his only true source of love & affection. Soon after his mental and spiritual disease took on more terrifying forms of progression, enhanced by his discovery of methamphetamine three months after spreading his fathers ashes into the Pacific Ocean.
He ended up homeless, traveling up and down the west coast lost & despaired, hauling what was left of his soul in a traveler pack that weighed fifty or so pounds. He has begged for your happiness spent in change, dollar bills, or bigger green sheets. Three years of homelessness interrupted, he now resides at his brothers automotive shop in Mountain View, facing the gutter and the shedding of his mortal coil.
A young man of twenty-three, living in Mountain View, California who has posted on Poemranker, Poetry Critical, & various Ez-Board poetry forums under his two primary pennames SupremeDreamer & SDreamer-- other pennames include DreamerSupreme, Don-Quixote, Y2kSlamPoet, and Shit-Crumpets.
Most of his work is written while binging on meth, alcohol, cannabis, hallucenagenics, or in imaginative trances; his style varies- it has been called dark, humorous, affirmative, philosophical, vulgar & innovative.
He is well known in certain poetic communities as an offensive, up-front comic hooligan-- And quite proud of it.
---Extended detail & update... here be the flowing of emo fluids.
He endured a childhood hell, tortured by the twisted psychosis of his mother, whom he eventually rid himself of just befor turning thirteen. Soon after though, he watched his father rot away on chemotherapy. When the cancer became terminal he then bore witness to every detail of his father's downward spiral into death.
Sept. 22, 2002, life gave him a late seventeenth birthday present: finding his father cold and lifeless, the end-note to what had been his only true source of love & affection. Soon after his mental and spiritual disease took on more terrifying forms of progression, enhanced by his discovery of methamphetamine three months after spreading his fathers ashes into the Pacific Ocean.
He ended up homeless, traveling up and down the west coast lost & despaired, hauling what was left of his soul in a traveler pack that weighed fifty or so pounds. He has begged for your happiness spent in change, dollar bills, or bigger green sheets. Three years of homelessness interrupted, he now resides at his brothers automotive shop in Mountain View, facing the gutter and the shedding of his mortal coil.
- Last seen on Oct 15 5:05 AM. Member since February 5, 2004.
- I'm a amethyst understanding poet for 29 comments.
- My mood is
, and quote is "cold fish wrapped in the bitterest of all vinegars". - I am a 23 year old guy from California (United States)
- When I'm not writing, I'm Looking for a steady job, boozing or on drugs, doing odd jobs, or begging..
- Visit my homepage at myspace.com/supremedreamer
- I have 29 comments, 16 poems
My Poetry
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In dreams of bedlam,
it was said that -
Sand castles fell at dusk
during the suns stifled yawn; -
I was fifteen then,
and Belgium was beautiful. -
The last screaming day
fell into an infinite
Guest Book
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Naughtygrlred on February 13, 2004I e-mailed that address you left on my home page it was returned to me so this is my email you can reach me at RHIANNEVA@aol.com
