Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I am empty. Without purpose,without direction. It's not a feeling I relish. Where are the answers? I'm pretty sure I was promised them by now. By art By religion By school By politics But none of them have provided a damn thing. I guess this is ennui. So how do you fill a zero? Or reach past an infi...

I truly am sorry for the way things ended. Was it for the better? For worse? I couldn't say, just that it was how It must be. I found some of your words today Some momentos. I had to commit them to the flame Not out of spite, or hatred Far from it! To set them free. For if we meet again Those words ...

You?

"all that I see or seem, is but a dream within a dream."
E Poe

Thanks all. Its good to be seen occasionally...

Think of me, if you must, As a dream. As a mythology long past and only partially remembered, As a character from the yellowed brittle pages of a well worn book. Let me influence but not control your present. Let me inhabit the periphery but not hold on to your mind. Remember us as a thunder storm, ...

Wandering through the invisible web of emptiness and illusion. I’m just here shooting my sad arrows at a hopeless moon, Looking for some kind of reply from the empty blue vault above. But all my bolts destined to fall far short of any connection, drop about me. Returning, again and again from unknow...

I think this came across a little more... patriotic; then I intended. I also think, and that’s the idea I was trying to capture, that we have strayed far from the roots of good any political party may have once represented. May have to call this one a failure eh? My fear is the loss of rights that h...

There once was a generation that stood up for what they believed. It doesn’t matter which, or what country or beliefs, They had come under attack, by a common enemy, And they knew what had to be done. It was a generation of different backgrounds Of different values; But they shared one common view. ...

Thank you for the kind words. I must say, if 73 is a kid and 63 is an infant, then at the inverse of one of those, I must not even be an idea yet!

And the days wander by, All the same within the web But all different in the skein. Time is, time was, Time shall ever be. What we make of it, Ah, there’s the rub. It IS all up to US in the end No one can tell you, No one can guide you. The master’s mountain Is not YOUR mountain. In the end, we all ...

That moment, The betrayal, the realization, the acceptance, The death. Just that, a moment. Brief, fleeting, traumatic. Gone before your breath. But in that moment, That briefest of time spans, It’s all undone. What once was sundered, Cannot be made whole again. No matter How much We believe And how...

I feel odd, Odd to say the least. That melancholy kind of feeling When you remember those who where close; Those that are gone And you wonder, (Though you know) Did I make a difference? Did that last visit, Beyond all memory and recognition, Did it register? There where brief moments of clarity. But...

time is,
time was,
yet love's no more.

What do you read my lord? words, words, words! or worlds..... Thank you for the kind worrrddssss, but pottering pottering pottering and scribbling is all I do as well. I’ve been trying my hand at editing! Something I've never done much of, and of course that second to last bit is to too to long it m...

So, this, this is something that has been coming together over the years I’ve been posting here, and many pieces have been posted (and some published in the anthology) and it is LONG, but I'm feeling...(drunk)…something..... tonight, and wanted to share what i have assembled. PLEASE, critique away! ...