Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

spew it like a depleted uranium cable christ
pray to the talkin' points rattlin' in steel walls
to the rocket ride in a caged mind

in the war room weathered men pound leather
push pawns and masturbate over their legacy
take justice to a cheap motel, fuck its brain out
for the armor-plated numb of it, for the buzz

we pray for the cleansing blood of capital
the atonement of new markets to scrub our identity
we lurk in icy depths of fear, finger on a button
we cross oceans clutching better weapons
muttering "sweet freedom"

we beam the big picture from space, divine word
can't fix a wide angle from space junk, hair-trigger lens
not killer screws loose from sputnik on soft hurricane pillows
out too far, nor across tranquilized desert oceans, out too far
nor muffled, ageless bombs at the city's edge, still out too far
nor sudden terror crushed in ruins, anguished wail, too close

reading this is like looking for the bottom of a murky-water pond. pretty sure it's there, just can't see it, but now and then glimpses

Civilization ain't! jim

it's there, in glimpses. need eyes to see the murk.

For the most part all I ever catch is a glimpse of the darkened things.
and the nothingness.
if I stare too long the darkness stares back (nietzsche?)

In ancient Tombs of pagan Kings,
sepulchres rife with starry jewels,
scribes may glimpse the darkened Things
that crawl beside the cavern'd pools....
http://www.studioeight.tv/phpbb/viewtop ... pse#p72144

"rife with starry jewels"... what a picture. where'd he go?
what is it with me? gone for a month or so, and then
three posts in a day (but two of them are old...)
sorry.

Ah man
your poetry never been more needed than now.
I guess I was riffin on Jim Turner's use of the word murky.

I am still looking through a glass murky
but I do catch a glimpse and a glint
once in a while.

Mnaz,I see interesting thoughts in the narration of the poem. Yes, kind folks and gentle people, "we are the enemy and he is us". The rubble of life becomes
boring by constant CNN filming over & over. So, folks stop looking. However,
if a sunflower grows out of the rubble, folks will look. Mnaz, I see wonder in your poetry!

we don't see the worst reality of it all; it's not shown. and the unseen among us must bear that weight. i guess that's my main thought, among my semi-digressions. yes, despair and wonder at every turn.