Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

bungee is the perfect metaphor for my heart
it stretches beyond belief
miles of slack elastic hugged by fiber
it let's you down easy

negotiating spoils
aftermath of picnic, ants surrender
handcuffed, lined up
bunkers abandoned

diplomats take notes
prepare for simultaneous expansion
what was a molehill
becomes a nuclear threat

onward
once the door is opened,
time to jump through
black tie
polished toenails

smile into the camera
adjust accent
savoir faire

gloomph

have you ever heard a
Tuvan flute.....upon a voice
so mongolian that it soars
high like blown snow upon
all that never was, {{=}}
more than you will ever
know....ain't no now & then......

a tuvan flute echoes in the chamber of haunted sound
hollow resonance
one exhale leads to epiphany

I know this is cheating because I wrote it yesterday
but I just couldn't resist it.

I wrote it to my son.

---

the flute works because it is hollow
and the heart only works by means of empty spaces
music works by virtue of silence

the space you left in my heart
allows it to beat a sad perpetual tattoo
a pulse of longing and remembrance.

the chambers are empty and wishing for you
you were a child then and void of experience
what is taken away is as blessed as what is given.

you were ripped from my loins
in a moment of lust and promise
the flute works only because it is hollow.

i know this is cheating
because i read it yesterday
my hollowed brain
reverberates with your son
and your torn loins
sobs line the empty womb
of man's history

hollow be thy name
O flute that echos notes
breaths that foster floods
and followers and even the
mice will follow the piper
tho is he really a drummer?

the womb is like bread
always rising with the
yeast of perfection
Dante couldn't invent a more
perfect hell than birth
evicted like a loaf from
the mother oven
eternity's warmth

brothers who swell
sisters swooning
moons full
daze need not
daisy clover
from the inside
never L7
never more than
never not
never more
place I long
to be or not
to be!

my kids have all assured me
through art and knock knock jokes
they loved my womb

kick, point, push, elbow
they loved my womb

they loved the sounds
of belly craving food
and swishes of sudden liquid intake

they loved the passive smoke
of exotic plants
and hints of Peter Max impressions

they begged for more jazz
and less popeye

they spoke in grunts
and tuvan suggestion

birth was fine
and they agreed to appear

while the conversation
grew
from shove to chew

The raindrops drip like tears from Virginia leaves
they weep for the end of the season
they weep for the green that bleeds from the trees
it's a sobbing rain

eine kleine rain muzik
sudden drops upturn
haiku nostalgia

what was warm
is wet
flutes dance violin

rain I love
set free........to play
the movement.....no escape
rain I love
wired I bee
charmer or was that snake
have ya ever tried to blast a tune
out on a conch shell horn?......these jams
O these jams.......set me free
rain I love...rain...rain ...rain...rain.....rain.......................

I put a band-aid on the dawn
it was drenched with treason
like a goat in rut
horned and wicked
in his simplicity

he's ready to rip the womb
proud and slick
an awkward commando conquering
a new day
is all that's on his mind

spittin' image Alfred E.
he made em laff on the
radio airwaves...I heard
it in my pickup truck....ain't
no chevy....nor a ford......
built tough....prez wearin'
blue jeans......skull & bones
schemes....that's as politico
as I get............tequila!