Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

written on the fly

i haven't traveled enough
to call this home.

i don't know enough
to call this a poem.

oh say can you see!?

i don't know what i'm looking at!

a performance in words....chk out my cd and u get the sense of whsts going on

huge birds in the
billionaires pastures are
continually taking flight

- - - this is why i come to the river - - -

dude- you rock me- endlessly- and that is a feat- in the land of milk and honey- all that you dream----
little feat
little feet
my walk
your talk
oh yeah

flowing on a riff
if ya gots a billion
they all bow down
till the great equalizer
call it life, cuts at
the big and small
with that old carving knife
see how they run

thanks for reading and commenting my friends

movement is so important..its too easy to get sedentary....we need to fight that at all costs.......walk, dance, run......move

yep still walking- still doing what got me out of a bad spot once- keep it moving forward-ALOHA

there coming after me.....words from a reggae classic
gotta keep on moving
a fact of life
to dance
leaves a mind to wander
away from all the troubles
all the strife
all that carving knife shit
through which we endure
lord i gotta get on down
where i can be found
lord their comin after me
them hell hounds on my trail
me stayin one step ahead

i like that- how men used to wear spats
and zuit suits
and well- it was sexy- love the flapper era= i like dancing at that tree too-ya know the one

dancing is smarter then kissing toads
like the car and the ride down that road

mirror ball time!

or disco inferno- and i like the tango-
not a slow dancer
sure i could learn
oh salsa dancing
square dancing=
cowboys in a line
boots a clicking
that only happened a few times-
but it was worth the price
loving my life
if you can walk
you can dance
rock and roll

Oh lord, Babylon hounds.
hounds on the trail, sniffing,
and me always a step ahead.

down @ the crossroads
on bended knees
just wanna let my
harmonica do the talkin
while the cadillac car
flies by>>>>>>>>>

ray bradbury once had a story he told
where the people had gone somewhere else
and now the robots and machines ran the hood
i winder sometimes if i misunderstood

moving to the river
the sun will shine
somewhere in my quiver
no where to hide
point that arrow
shoot real straight
i have to see what i rarely favor
the luzxury of my hard labor
no more nomad for me'
i like the chairs and colors
bright
like to live where no one fights
no smoke
no trix