Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I'm living in the modern world
one must be absolutely modern said R
this is just as true today as it was then
you are not writing the poem, it writes you
one must wrap that thought around themselves
when they stare into the depths of the white paper
once you get past that notion that you are in control
when you give up control of all your notions
then what is really on your mind can come to the fore

if you have that feeling that you have been here before
or if some resonance to some others thought gives way
some connection to the creator whom would dare speak
beyond what is considered to be the way things are
how many takes on the way things are, are we privy to
how many readings between the lines does it take
how many writings on the multiple written on wall
written over and over what is buried underneath

I never became comfortable in this post haste modern world
I saw the paintings on the canvas sky waving to the galaxy
I listened to the tiny noise coming through the stratosphere
to the teenage radio in the dead of night signaling in the fuzz
I saw a future in a flash between stations when ghost sounds bleed
when I traveled back in time, to remember what I had really seen
that the message of the higher evolved intelligence came through
a song in the fifties about a flying purple eater, a jazz of the soul

thank gods for the modern world
it started with fire all those years ago,
and led to steel and this big conflagration,
and a brief counter-reach by reeling souls,
a da-da nonsense of politicians preaching,
survival, survival, is that all you got?
and now it's all on a screen.

on the big screen, look into their steely eyes
in that darkened gummy floor movie house
it's that blood curdle scream they come for
aliens from outer space have come
to see your leader, and all we could offer them
was Mickey Mouse

during coffee
we jumped onto siglo III
and called the thing "postclassical" once more
we indulged in old gestures
talking madly & anguishly
playing spoons & spreading sugar, edulcorants & envelopes
that make erratic paths of brown & cristal on the table
"it´s just post-prandial philosophy"
"we are getting old"
"it´s more serious, you know?"
early afternoon stillness won, as usual

my dog eared copy of Hopscotch sits next to me upright
Julio walked the green corridors of the alley's veins
into the long night of dusty passages...cry Cortazar!
cry the grand tears of the crystal chandeliers
in the house of the dead, where they made grand plans
in the cafe, with a glass of blackest dreams.

the entire future of the free world
hinged on mickey mouse at some point
it was a big deal, though not as big
as the blockbusters that followed.

we live on blockbusters.
gawd we are junkies to explosion,
to flashes of mindlessness.

front row seat to the end of history as we know it.
and some mindless idiot is snapping their bubble gum
right behind us.

ahh... Julio! (speed Rayuela cut-up)

como un reguero de pólvora, sí
en este momento
violetas a la salida de la ópera de Viena
sin frío, con ánimos
los enfermos mejor, gracias
dejando el alma herida y espinas en el corazón
mezclar, desde un altísimo punto que mira
todo está bien así
congelados en corridas de toros
dolor ahuyentando lazos
esfuerzos que parecen repugnantes
y ganas de reírse, con ganas
sin saber bien por qué