Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Like someone’s fattened-bony fingers chained
together, jutted through the infant soft-
spot hole that caps my skull, I sense the force—
the pressure— the persistence madly thrust
within the center of my brain: a pain
of pulse; of beat; of pound; of blood; of strike—
a tongue of flame of all but holiness,
I pray that dark, that cool, cajole this cess-
pool sensory affliction not to spike
this punch within my ache-break soul again—
Were I to meet Death’s Pilgrim now, I trust
it wouldn’t hurt me worse (but then, of course,
that too is wishful thinking). Damn this loft
of hurt and damn my baby-weakness pained.

pretty bleak there, joel
take two aspirin and call me in the morning

aspirin
is good
writting
also

and of course sweet reading oblivion
no idea where my pain comes from
but it is a good time for religion
or medicine

even by writting
it becomes more distant
and I am not minding the store
I got another bit of me that carries my cross

I got no music in me joel
some kind of freak of nature I suppose
I am always marching to a different drummer
I can hear it when it is there but when it is gone I can't remember it

listen to a piece of music a hundred times and still not able to identify it.

I only mention that because I think poetry is arises from music
I could be wrong
but I am certain I have no poetry in me either

you know margaret meade said that we are all unique just like everybody else.

But I feel like a singularity here on studio eight
maybe it is just my age
the last time I checked I am the oldest one here
I was born before the war.
Ha
Which one you might asked

sorry for the ramble joel
reading helps me somehow
I thought maybe I would take your mind off it for a while maybe

I can hardly remember the poem at this point
except that it hurt

thank you joel
something Kierkegaardian about your poetry
of couse I don't know jack shitz about soren
tried reading him about thirty years ago

all I remember is the bit about the spider
and the sickness unto death
which is dread
thanks for the poem
now that I try to remember it
I think it is more Kafka
than kierkegaard

take an ice pick to my heart joel
chip away the ice with your pain.

stilltrucking wrote:But I feel like a singularity here on studio eight
maybe it is just my age
the last time I checked I am the oldest one here
I was born before the war.
Ha
Which one you might asked

take an ice pick to my heart joel
chip away the ice with your pain.

you got the poet in you, ST
age is nothing in this new world
how many of us share the singularity?

singularity

a haiku for me
like a snowflake on my tongue
this clear cold moment

SooZen from a long time ago.

head´s right side
& nape of neck
(aspirins don´t work)
I know now how to lessen it
(sometimes)
more an indiscriminate irritation
than a whimper

Cannibus always removes the tension of pain, which I think plays a big part in pain.
Plus, it's organic....
However it is illegal to obtain it.
Relax your tensions.
It will go away then.

dug the poem Joel.
H