Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

landing in flames
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the treason of reason
freezin in the season
i chill at the sound
of words that scramble
ramble and i gamble
with the print of letters
one pop at a time
from keyboard to ski-board

i've never felt compelled
or swelled or jelled
with the then or when
by only why's and
i ask is it wise?

questions like ignition
starting the mind
to journey as far as
this jalopy body can find
streets paved by ass-at-fault
roads filled with stone

i flip and somersault
thru the heir of being
without even seeing
where do i land
when i have fallen
from grace?
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