Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the sax player was high on junk the heavens were crashing down the streets were melting into patterns all the city lights were higher then a kite the pyramid was levitating in the contrast like a newspaper headline that spoke jibberish to the floating bodies along the concrete path through the pink ...

when the words wept at the wind because nobody knew what they really said it wasn't that the words could not be read or that those who could read them would not think they knew what they meant it was that the words had so much more to say besides communicating simple descriptions of events and ideas...

due to calling a spade a spade your hand has been over played the debt is never payed we are left with playing fish a wish is a wish is a wish don't be a far out fraidy cat God bless the child of the Aeon and they are not beguiled due to the second coming being canceled now they have become joker's ...

I can't cope everything is nothing is something what's up with that what isn't up it's neither here or there it's everywhere or nowhere it's all on a bet or a dare Hodads beware! surf's up and sputnik too I don't care anymore about no saluting no flag no more am a rebel with an effect comb my fins w...

here's to the fan dance...dance on.

thanks for the Nietzsche quote dadio and for the permutations on the word sick creativesoul.

each small novel sized poem holds another nuance of the same but different picture.Can you see the nuance in the slight flicker? Look quicker.

Of course it's not just Rimbaud, it's all those dark posts that follow in their foot steps.

It is no different when I first read Rimbaud so long ago yet not so long ago the time it took to read that first poem by R to the time I am still reading it now the poem held me in its grip of grains one by one the words filled my vision just as it was then as it is now still reading that poem every...

nothing terminal in the near future I just had a bad experience with a woman a lot younger then me also I miss my wife terribly I once met Billy Burroughs I bought him a beer he died about a year later I also heard his dad read live I have eaten my Naked Lunch and my Reality Sandwiches thanks for th...

I don't have much time left the jackals are closing in the shadows of my mind once I saw a vast highway before me a black ribbon of tape unraveled my view the coffee was thick with new ideas and the sun shone in my deep cup love was a blue day breathing you in now the curtains are being drawn over m...

I'm tired of being tired I'm tired of being sick I'm sick of being tired I'm sick of being sick I'm sick and tired of being tired and sick and I'm tired and sick of being sick and tired but I'm not bored with a body that gets tired and sick at least I'm amused with what it means to be in a sick and ...

The lady was a tramp and a vamp I saved that butterfly postage stamp in the book of rare oddities how much like our own lives are between these gossamer pages pressed like a flower of farewells all those perfumed veils of the enchantress she moved behind as she removed them one by one in a tempestuo...

Just listened to a dead song Grateful Dead of course it was, "death don't have no mercy" it goes death don't have no mercy in this land I don't recall ever hearing this song before I guess I was not a real Dead head But I remember going to that Dead show with you on new year's eve in frisco you were...

happy poetry kept in my head

right, it's the stuff we write that is kept on paper or hyperspace

and we really are at the mercy of every breath you take