Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

surf time!

come on in the waters fine!

I got a kitty
she's hanging ten
off'in me lap
me leg has fallen
asleep
and i'm about to become her alarm clock..


bing!

my cat Chief just
came flying thru the
door, the bird's singin
it's evening song in the
kitchen, and now Chief's
drinking out of Lazarus's bowl
laz is a goldfish who went
belly up then came back to life.......

.

no time like the present
to resurrect

.

time to hit the fridge
& ressurect some grub............

.



seen for the asking
the uniform worn
generations vibrations
vexed in time,
not known;
yet exactly forgotten.

remember therefore
its nearsighted frame
and beg to be slung to the edge of its throne

its countless chambers
and myriad vaults
are nothing of you or me


.

my heart has chambers vacant
they exercise a slow vibration
lub-dub, lub-dub
until I need glasses

.

i got a PhD
in waiting,


...i'm afraid.


.

hahah!!
--more down and dirty zen of piph

a little music to break things up

http://www.studioeight.tv/musicpost/improv10.mp3

.


broken up
not a single note does wait
interval
moving foward
time's timing
pulled apart
danced
entranced
never stretched or broke
but flowed
one
unto the next
no time signed
on no dotted line


.

time marches - circa 1998

TIME MARCHES

Time, like a thief,
marches on past the bakery
with the smell of donuts and breads
filling the air
with all the possibilities
of childhood dreams--
past the playground
where little girls run
from the boys playing war,
past the sidewalks,
past the store where
mother works
selling cheap perfume
to unkempt street women
(nowhere to go)
time surges on
through the Saturday parade
when the Macy's float passes
proudly flanked
by baton twirling
majorettes
with glitter-decorated
boots waiting for
homecoming and the
semi-formal tapestry
gown laid across their beds
to drape them when
the sun goes down
and time marches through
the town
down the alleys
into the backrooms of
pubs where
college girls pretend
to love in exchange
for the affection of
a lie
and past the street
where the temporary agency
rents out labor
to the beat of a
dollar bill and
relentlessly time
rolls down train tracks
toward an altar
where a bride and groom
too quickly assume
their lives will be complete
and time goes on
and meets up with the
babies clothes and dirty diapers
waiting to be changed
and the crying, wailing, for their
mother's breast
while mother reminisces
into forgotten
dreams
thankful for the newness
of the suckling child
who takes away her
time
goes on
through careers and career
changes
and rearranges
the minutes into days
into hours into
weeks
into months
and years blend
into time continues
marching to the tune
of greying hairs and
root canals and receding
hairlines
and the brink of anger
'cause the words on the page
can't be seen
without taking the time
to recognize the need for
bifocals
and time continues teaching
while it passes
through
the minutes of a sermon
where the preacher speaks
on death defying
measures taken by
a Lord who promises
to take us home
and time watches
helplessly while
fathers are buried
and mothers are cremated
and forty-five year old
children refuse
to believe they are
middle aged
and so Time marches
like a ridiculing, laughing,
arrogent, insidious, loquacious
perpetually ominous
soles worn
from marching.

music, again?
time after time.
maybe i should post
a list of mine.

.


this time, i'll listen
this time, i'll stop
this time i'll try to hear you
with all i got
try to silence my own mind
and blend with yours
this time i'll give to you

this time, i love you


.

First time around.
Time pariticles become sound.
If poems are the words of angels,
Music is God's voice. Love is a choice.
Quarter-time notes. Halftime show.
Musical scores.
Love can stop wars.
Play music at the frontline,
serenade the armed.
Love has charmed
Many a snake,
Many a broken man.
Love was the music
When the world began.