Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

The scrub is anguished
Settled in austerity
Awaiting the rain

C'est la vie. All things are such that they are because of the nature of nature that is arbitrary, without purpose or design, from the inception of all things, at the beginning, when it was all but a speck, infinitely massive, with endless possibility. We, of course, relay the meaning, via categoric...

When I first saw her standin' there, So grand in there, My heart, long silent, wailed, fresh and new and sudden, wrenching tears from a desperate void of black gloom, to flow like time, viscous, eternal, and comic; I'd stolen a glance at her, Taken a chance with her, her poise, her style, her eyes, ...

The trees, all mangled and twisted, were ugly in the extreme, and, no doubt, bitter, brutal, and a special kind of mean, The truest, nastiest nightmares, I ever have seen, They bore down on me, though at the time I did not know, They squared me up, wanting for us to fight toe-to-toe, Daring me to pa...

.......and so here we are.......

Perhaps the environment and our demographic is a catalyst for our mounting unease and vocal dissatisfaction; but, I see, that hidden in plain site, is a volition of influence, with an agenda of subjugation of the human spirit. I consider myself to be fairly rational, and I eschew the role of active ...

“America is experiencing an Islamist cultural-political offensive designed to undermine and destroy our civilization,” said Newt Gingrich last Saturday, in a public denunciation of religious freedom, scarring the pride I feel with being an American. His comparing of the building of the proposed mosq...

I'll probably continue this one on out a bit.

There’s hot sweltering night creeping about, giving rise to syncopation and rhyme, Critters, in swarms, who nary a doubt, walk headlong into the oblivion of time, Children of men, faithless and devout, seek answers from within the sublime, Howls from the dark, I hear them shout, “We rebuke your excu...

Very nice, Sue; I love it. It teems with the visions,..... ecstatic, demonstrative, and reminiscent,..... of a young or old, innocent or wizened bystander,...... maybe hot and coated in an oily grime, from the brutality of the sun on that day so long ago.

Well, of course it smells like pussy;....one of my favorite smells. I always loved the Album title by George Clinton, "Hey Man, Smell My Finger."

Friggin' awesome. I loved your poem; it seems like an act of bravado, with squeals and giggles attached. Very nice.

We all despise our origins, when there's suffering to bear and we haven't gotten, yet, a mouthful. The plight of the idealogical socialist is that he/she can only sympathize. Empathy is reserved for those who have nothing, and really they aren't, normally, as aware as everyone else.

Up in the highlands the winds stir gently, the cool breath of the early morning air soothes the lungs, urging flight or at least movement against the backdrop of a supreme stillness. My path among these starry nights is an evolution of sight and sound, and I see it all; I hear the cries, the soft mo...

Oh; but 'require' can be three. LOL I like a tendency to Faulkneresque vernacular or pronunciation. I remember reading, some years ago, Pet Cemetary, by Stephen King, and recall being, for nearly the entire book, confused by, "ayup." Of course it was a Mainer's "yes." It was 'ah-uhp,' and not 'ay-yu...