Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

i heard the barking of kittens
and the gentle meow of pups
the roots of trees in full bloom
while the leaves hid themselves
under the mulch of centuries

the waters no longer ran
but walked step by step
leaving reflective puddles
in their wake as i slept thru
the moon setting over the
pyrenees covered with ele-fonts
putting a spell on gigantic gray
creatures with long noses spraying
graffiti resembling melted fires

i heard the tinkle of token breaths
singing of days no longer to bee
buzzing like hermaphroditic clowns
whose faces were painted with sands
from the ancient deserts of the southwest
pointing towards in the fifth direction

((mustard on my sandwich, please))

Hold that mustard ! Make mine horseradish with no name ! Pardon my Mongolia, Cec, it's just the romantic in me

don't forget the psychedelic relish..........

We have this mushroom that grows in cow pastures , the church of one sermon they call it, the poem has several sermons in it , I think I may have been in the choir.

Nice poem