Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Over in the corner of the bar
Letterman flickered
Tom Waits graveled roads
with a voice shovel

Rosie got up from her perch
on the leather stool and began
to sway, Tom sang about love
and loss and nickels and dimes
Rosie closed her eyes and smiled
her body slowly moving
a tuned, all pistons firing
she drove outta the lot...

ooo dat blues man grooved a mean beat.
da guy had his laces right, tight like his head,
dead set on tellin' it clean.

damn blues man, clean sweeped her flat
from fuckmepumps onto her knees, clean
like mr cleanbreeze clean like slick
linoleum

i like to keep
my fridgette really cold
i need to warm my spoon
to get slushmilk for my coffee
but the bread sure lasts long

rosie became the racer
speeding off into the dark
her lights showin the way
drivin them blues until day
break them rules
dont lose your cools
no more of them fools

she outraced her memories
all pistons were pumpin'
gettin ahead of the behind
searchin out new places
places outside her mind

she caught herself
flyin thru the clouds
foot on the pedal
she metalled her way
beyond the fray
playin her song
brand new day
she was stung

tongue lappin up the stars
sweet candies wrapped in foil
shiny as the milky way
'wouldya say... goin my way?'
i could hear her say...
watchin rosie the racer

cool's a stranger round here
misty features
slow to speak
hangin out round the haywire corral

here, we know hot
hot sounds
steamy suggestions
simmering starlight
sharing codes with the dawn

fog wraps cool and hot
center-stage
but eye to eye
they'd rather not

separate monologues
perfume the nowhere air
sipping espresso
from a bottomless cup

the mysterious stranger
felt hatted, fedorable
watched Rosie with his smokey
aura, she danced alone
lost in a dream, gone, long gone
racing through space...in one place
he noticed she had a heart shaped ass
a heart shaped ass

the crowds were gathering
voyeurs in the bar scene
watching the night unfold
and blanket the bar...

The stranger got stranger
he had no shoes, no treads
but Rosie had him bare footed
and in her web...

flickering out like northern lights
with dawn's emergence and interruption
gone all but for the sidewalkish
embers burnt into my front
like a black and white
hiroshima shadow burn
gone and always there

rosie the racer now weavin' webs
no more the black velvet ribbon
windin across the ventilation
breezes blowin, throwin
goin into the space left
behind is further away
as the now quickly comes

joy ridden and smilin like lights
sunny dis position instilled
with the aura, hot aura
on fire the glow know for sho'
we be re-ceived and ceived again
as the night air thick with song
another hit of the bong
smokin', jokin'
dancin, huggin'
rosie may not of got her guy
but she sure got her way... hey!

rosie gave up poetry
for a place to lay her head.
some people called her dead.
some said smart.
her heart bloomed
on a thorned stem.
so much for them.
rosie gave up poetry
for dead.

Last Call!
the bartender was watching poetry wither from neglect
the corner of his eye
already dreaming of the long ride ahead

morning would find him
pulling out the hearse
cleaning up his act
readying the day

daytime truths
to be buried
hidden from innocent eyes

hasta la vista
came the call
from phar lepht

midnight approaches
and the the sunrise
will come up roses

awakend by the wind
the chimes roaring outside
or was it perhaps that
call for the last.....down the
stairs to the bar room floor
he strode once more..................

the bar is closed and i am late my time or your time..time is time and time isa shufflin off to buffalo it's just been a long day and tired is weary is ready for satin pillows of blue and dreamin of poets ona green hill near the river and Huck Finn has his toe in the water and the wayward wind sings a bluesy doosy and all's well and to all a goodnite -the well's not dry, just dusty and that lusty frog's a croakin about moonshine and so i'm gone.