Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

The Bigtime Poetry-Melt Word Jam!

go to your wildest imagination

Here is the bass line:

the generations
past present future
continuity

jam out


Somewhere I have an ancestor, his skin is black.
He tramped in Ethiopia, lived on berries and poetry
in grunts and whistles, and straddled the Great Rift.

Then the family moved north to Germany
which didn't exist then, and we lost the pigment
in our skin due to rugged cold weather
and the angle of the sun.

We were on the run like tangled Hugenaughts
from France to Scotland to Ire
and finally to the colonies with nothing
but a blunt ax and the will to live and fire.

Next we will flee to bubbled houses
on Titan or Europa or some lonely asteroid
and camp on our convictions and science
while we invent new gods and kiss the void.

funny thing happened
on the way to mt.sinai
me roots got sandblasted
camels off
surf's up
seashell sounded swell
mediterranean overboard

overturned
upside down
what was gypsy
caravanserei
turned into russian villagery

a simple boat pass
and sweet ellis island
blew her funky pentatonic welcome blast

who'd a known it'd last

I do not want to discuss generations.

Not that I have anything against ancestory
or history or archived words or yellowed
photographs stuck to album pages which
gather closet dust.

I am here now and
not to make a sweeping generalization,
but I am here to say that no matter the
generations which have past, I am my
own creation.

Thus, I lust for the
moment, unconcerned with how
I originally arrived.

who'd a thunk about
the past....not me..
tis a new day and
there's more than hell
to pay...............

who'd a known it'd last

I used to be a lemur hidden in the bushes, watching T Rex do his last waltz,

and I was so meek I inherited the earth

the sand under my feet
is
the sand under your feet

we walk
we grunt
we pass our lifetimes
relay racing
no particular rush

like bulls in the rushes
we find a lil creek
south of Baltimore.......

the generations are radiant in their gradations
call it the past or the seeds of the future
it's up to you which dust to trust
which lingual tradition
what grunts and whistles

no particular rush

but I am always one step in back of the jam and trying to catch up

there's more than hell
to pay...............

there is no key at the gates of hell
the doors are always open
the banality of evil
hell is more like enron

the generations are radiant in their gradations

snakey politicians, a generation of vipers

fire is more than desire
that's the reason I'm on
never be a whyer..............

fire is more than desire

desire for power lights a holocaust

I missed this

never be a whyer..............

enron lemurs
barely primates
only stand upright for moments
wearing their lawsuits
like big eyed beans
and rascal underwear

ash to ash
smoke a cig
inhale history

youse guys started under th gun
off like mad dogs'
rabid drunk runnerz
sufi drunkardz
lizardz in th dezert
scurrin down th arroyo
lookin fer fun
but th milion dollad man
he ain't done

wanna talk anzeterrz
meat eaterz
an pleazure seekerz.?

on a zurvival mission. ja.!