Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I'm hungry,
could use the nourishment
of a conversation
bathed in feminine light

the antenna is up
I'm a cerebral lightning rod
standing naked and tall
in a storm of claustrophobia

I can always sense
when I need something new
to tip-toe across the wire
like a ghostly drunken Walenda

high above the wooing crowd
that secretly prays for a fall with no net
there is a fresh air up there
for withered lungs

pockets of treasure
long available to those with good balance
clouds filled with cotton candy dreams,
ancient voices from above the rim

of the milky way....
calm your busted mind says a faded voice
throw back the drapes of wrinkled darkness
open the doors of tomorrowland

stop- look- listen
a new train of thought is barreling down
the tracks...when it slows in the turn over yonder
jump that box car like a new-age-poetry-lovin'-cowboy

ride hot
like a summer breeze
rumble hard
like the breath of a rusty locomotive

jump that box car brother

fine words catching the breath with delight.