Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

homeostatic Eden
serves me a coffee & a wink
(also layers & layers
or insights & crippled emotions)
suddenly, something like loneliness & interconection
sweeps me in its caleidoscope

something of the wind
touching souls at dawn
aroma sent from ages
rock of time be constant
gariel blow your lonely song
a light that parts the
mountains from the darkness
moon ascends across the sky
flocks of geese fly by
honking out their immortal
refrain.....

surprising how the winds of war
can overwhelm even the most peace full
a fight (or fright) last night with a friend
(or so I thought...) leaves me breathless
and heart broken

but even a broken & patch worked heart
can be saved, can be mended, can still love
the middle chakra of my soul radiates
stillness, gladness, fullness, and yet
I still ache for her, feel her pain, empathize!

BEing an empath... empathetic is a hard
& sometimes lonely path...
like being born in the wrong suit,
an example of many! but It is my path
my pain to bear, my job is just simple
...to keep on smiling...

BTW Mingo, thank you so much for the 'ku!!! It hit the spot... *wink

rain commences
a burst of showers
the need to break bread
1st
~~~~~
starving children in china
raised on that, so u better
clean that plate
2nd
~~~~~
do they break bread
in china?
we who owe them starve
their children
3rd
~~~~~
i liked it when poverty
was the war
U.S. perpetually at war
big buisness war
big bullyness war
liberal war
conservative war
all the same
lawyers with power
4th
~~~~
i started out on the path
of lawyer/pro golfer
ended up a taoist sculptor
if i ever get deep into
those han shan mountains
i bet i'll never leave

what do you write?
poetry, i replied

i've been an avid reader all my life
for decades. i'm just now starting
to read poems, she told me,
i never did before
they intrigue me more and more

poetry is a personal journey
from one soul to another,
each verse an awakening
of sorts, I said

yes, i can see that, her
response echoed through,
clearly aware

to me, she said,
a poem is like a prayer

No more prayers
hopes upon hopes
let's make miracles

.
We awaken to a miracle
each day when we open
our eyes, the gift to proceed,
persistence, our creed.

Hope is the eternal spring.
Each season brings its struggling,
yet we are born each morn
in the present tense as we grasp
the wisdom: this too, shall pass.

And, alas, hyacinth break through
the soil, our toil is not in vain.
Let it rain so we will flourish.
Dare the air, for we will cope,
spring itself, the eternal hope.

If hyacinth
then so can I
gentle but firm

"Equinox" a piano improvisation I recorded several years ago.
.

.
It's only 29 degrees
with a winterized breeze.
Damn, man, where's the lamb?
March remains a lion, throughout.
I require walking and I doubt
I can tolerate the cold which
insists it won't subside. And so
I'll march in place inside.

boreas fantasy

wild spring wind
whips my hair
closing my eyes to the sky
I see myself
a field of swirling green
billowing silken dress of gray and blue
like a Waterhouse painting

It's 5 o'clock somewhere.
Oh wait! That would be HERE!
Happy spring! Cheers!

My family is under one roof for the first time since Christmas this time might be the last time for a long time and what is time but numbers between light and dark, sleep and liveliness,
we try and pretend it matters but we all long to throw it away like so much nonsense and pretend it doesn't matter but it does more of it has gone under the rug we beat it with a stick we curse it we love it we hate it we want more of it on those days when we don't really need it a conundrum only God has the answer for and what was the question anyway? God damn, Sam, the whole world seems to be within shouting distance sometimes but there is never enough time and who has the loudest voice is usually a prick, aren't they and don't you wish you had that kind of voice when the chips are down and a little bit more time could be bought for a few choice words? Let's go to a canyon and record all the echoes....use them on rainy days.

risen
rising
flight to india
cacique
cabenza de vaca
performing miracles
across ancient america
lazarus rising feats
writing to the king of spain
of a power within
mysteries
mysterioso
rising from jam mists
original core
original writing
fish biting
shells scattered in the sand
images alive in driftwood
mountains constant
rivers flowing
waves crashing perpetually
man drawn to them
perilously riding them
to the other side

Alone with my sister
How precious the gift
Strength and love