Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

it isn't somehow sunshine sunday
it's only friday red wine television

there's a sound in the lines between the silence of the air and it reminds me of a time when snow fell as a youngster. i'm still not dead but there's a part of me in limbo. has been.

i look inside shadows frequently and see reality.
hidden and sinister like a dog bark at night three streets away.

my insomnia is a result of my internal clock. i awaken at 11.30pm most nights and don't die down until 3 sometimes 4, when i sleep and dream. but dreams are a strange reality to a boy with real insanities.

insanity isn't a poison in my brain.
it's the sharp burst of citrus sting from a thumbnail pierced orange rind.

as much as it stings it refreshes and pleases. a pleasing insanity. an at-odds-with-this-all feeling of happiness when i'm alone.

that blue yabyum photograph. serated edge moutain line and a sinking sun not red yet but a so white white it's blue. i imagine crawling along a razor sharp knife edge and surviving.

split myself in two as part of the journey
and spit teeth, root first, into the bark of the trees that weep for no one.

summer scottish skies don't fall until 11pm. then the cool air darkness holds me like a soft and white pair of arms.

friday red wine television
fully aware that there's a bottle of white in the fridge.

i'll drink that and mix up a summer coloured rosé in my belly
and the rose will sprout like an old potato
grow
grow
mildew
grow
sprout veins of life
roots like rivers finding the source

i have a dawn about to happen
red wine lingers on its side,
awaiting a cork pop, upon my signal
the longest day, the best day
a day when so much potential wiggles with excitement
ruffles all aura of calm
a slim day on protein supplements
a day that can run a few marathons
bursting records again and again
gliding towards a yabyum banner with the greatest of ease
this, then, this day
when slow smiling buds open at leisure
each in melodic finesse
birds doing backup, carobs slowly ripening
heat hovering over the rim
let's give it a go, let's count on israeli sabbaths
while all are taking the day off,
let's take this day on
all of us, you, me and the potted no names that are hinting of harvest
ah, such a small but potent harvest to come
let's take it on
let's honour our history
let's slide into solstice
with new mind, wild mind, mind of blooming present

all on a june 21 fine fat day

bennie, I find this terrifically refreshing. I didn't realize you were talking about the banner photo on S8 at first so I Googled Yabyum and was interested to find out that literally translated in Tibetan it means: father/mother and is a symbol of sexual union between a male diety and a female consort. I guess it's a little ironic that you split into two after riding the serated edge.

when i sleep and dream. but dreams are a strange reality to a boy with real insanities.

Whether waking or sleeping I think the object of your attention is reality.
Seems to me, just because something keeps things hung in space while you are away no more makes it reality then whoever that bum on the corner has been arguing with for the last 10 years. This poem made my evening.
thanks,
Scott

Bennie, you've got all my senses reeling with this.... so many wonderful phrases....like...

it's only friday red wine television

hidden and sinister like a dog bark at night three streets away.

it's the sharp burst of citrus sting from a thumbnail pierced orange rind.

that blue yabyum photograph. serated edge moutain line and a sinking sun not red yet but a so white white it's blue. i imagine crawling along a razor sharp knife edge and surviving.

summer scottish skies don't fall until 11pm. then the cool air darkness holds me like a soft and white pair of arms.

Luv your stuff.

thank you

p

I dig the riff, bennie... freestylin' brotha!

you've got some killer lines in there!

Here's the banner you mentioned in your lovely poetry



just for continuity sake... posting it here because i'm going to change the banner up top today.

a plethora of juicy lines in this one, bennie ...but I'd say it's more "a creative" than "a go"...or at least equal.....in any case, enjoyed the ride

yesterday I woke up with Sumo´s song "Yo quiero a mi bandera..." in my head and ended in a bar where the son of a friend did piano jazz in Monk and Evans spirit under psicoldelic and surrealist acrilics.
And today´s Inty raimi don´t want anybody drinking alone. So we are planning to be seven or eight tonight. I won´t cook this time (they were wondering about the possibility of guiso de lentejas criollo & japanese food -well, we have a japanese friend!- ). I´ll bring wine and andean music to warm the sun.


insanity isn't a poison in my brain.
it's the sharp burst of citrus sting from a thumbnail pierced orange rind.

I specially like those lines!!, and hey, you´re my favourite scottish-scottish writer friend!!!