Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

keep your head
keep your mind
stay away from me

see the pain
see the darkness
enjoy the view

i can't share
can't pull your load
my pulse is down to zilch

zilch itch
plaza´s palmtrees & next street´s ibirapitás are moving
windows can be opened again!

craquelé, hospitalité, ahh... banalité
(let´s leave cruelty entertained with something inofensive)
if we call her, sure Hannah can give us a speech or some quotes about revolutionaries, thoughts & the past
sky completely grey now with a storm line in the horizon
but the air still has the same texture as if you were trekking in some tropical forest at the same hour ...
ready to continue reading "Los ochenta recienvivos"
& drinking tereré in not cracked mates, at least for now

woke that Jersey day
unsoiled by cultural malaise
babyfaced
a window facing toward you
but me
is what i believed in
me is what i knew
how you could serve me
yes, windows opened
to include the you

bottles and diapers
and toddlers of two
still it seems like mostly me
and you , you the extension
of 'get me' what i need
want
can't reach
don't understand
don't drink the bleach

finally
you mean there are others, too
with dreams and wishes and a will to do
still don't we fancy this little circle of
me and you?
it was quite a while forgetting
the all
you did for me
was not really doing for you

and now that i've forgot
and now that i am you
i can grow to open windows, too
and cast a glance to the garden edge
or the fires' wood.
and mostly to imagine good
most to keep the eyelids low
windows cast shortsighted into
no further must I go


.

WHERE ARE YOUR BRIGHT EYES?
WHERE IS YOUR LONELIEST PILLOW?

i've got four walls, baby.
i've got a box of fried rice.
i've known love and hate.

i've got the world
and more.

i thought i had thought
till i tried to think it
now i know

i know jam on bread
can be sweet
jam online
a different treat.

half trick, half treat
sometimes playful
sometimes adjective-in-suspense

River without borders
islands of camalotes
carrying both vermin & songs

have decided even nights
of mind numbing cold cannot keep
the dander of stupidity in check
for some folks

two storms in thirthy hours
stars shining & warm breeze now
as if nothing happened

cold morning
turning from
dark to light
stinging
wind calm
the only plus
on a knoll
the museum
sits steady
in concrete
resolve
the world turns
around it
the crows fly over
settling in at night
blue sky day
silence on high
inevitably the rain
will come

a lot happens
and sometimes time tags along

with the clang of the singing bowl
we sneak between seconds
tour a secret place of light

nothing happens
then time carries on

monsoon season here
or something like it
tumbling dice
dicey heart beat
beat the reaper
he died with his jam on
a dead certainty
heaven is a studio eight jam

i can't justify
sitting here any longer
but i ain't
moved yet