Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Winter came and knocked on the door
My feet got cold and I thought there were
Bugs in my hair - :freeing me for death
The witches plans had run a foul
And the smell when one peeked in
Was like that of decomposing flesh
Nothing was really moving much there
She lived from the outside in now
A husband that went after all her girlfriends
Says g
He has a plate in hush head
I dunno
I think it best " 'not to know '
Like moonshine she sucked the life from his lips
She got larger
He got smaller
I thought I was at the Adams family mansion
Still am not sure about uncle fester
It
Does not matter
Winter is here
Boiled vegetables and cold feet

She cried out to a God
I want love- :show me love

Suitably strange.

All trumped up with nowhere to go- ' I tend to like the tacos when frequently eating at public restaurants
The pizza seems lifeless
The zombie facial cream
Along side Aleppo
And I'm supposed to be writing some
Hopeful message
To a world I feel lost in
Once I thought
We all were
The same

Now I think about john Lennon
And all of the words and votes and dollars
And no fucking sense
Fuck me from behind I cannot look at you

John Lennon was only forty
he lived like he spoke, like he sang
he would not relent, he spoke his mind
as he neared his end, he became
ever more clear, so they took him from us
his voice could not be Micky Moused
John was true to himself, and he would
follow his truth until they took him from
the world, strawberry fields forever

"to a world I feel lost in
once I thought we were all the same"

I guess my ideals got smacked around
Being a hippie was sort of a tribe
We had our little industries
Up on hwy nine near boulder creek and Santa Cruz-
Those were the days
Imbibed: induced... seduced- frolicking naked
Jumping off the rope swing
The goat lady became a nurse
The food co - -op dudes turned out to be b n and jeerry
Wavy gravy is a potatoe chip and ice cream now
Yes
I believe in the new glasses world...

moved to Santa Cruz in 70'
from Orange County California
lived in Capitola in a cottage
with my musician friend
met a crazy surfer poet from L.A.
and it being the hippie days and Santa Cruz
being the place where a lot of poets and hippies
and students lived, I became a hippie poet
hung out in the Catalyst and drank thick black coffee
and read my books and wrote
walked up and down Pacific avenue
hung out in book stores, went up to the university
and hung out in the library
lived in all those places, Boulder Creek
spent a year in a meditation community
called University of the Trees
lived in Brookdale for awhile
also lived near Felton off on Zyante road
lived up above Davenport for awhile
on some land there off Last Chance road
lived down by the boardwalk in the flats
with a view of the jet star roller coaster
lived on Mission street in a room
in an old Victorian house
lived on East Cliff where I wrote the poem
the first one that was published in the local
paper called the Sun Daze

later on went up to live in Berkeley
for awhile, even later moved to Hollywood and lived
on Sunset blvd. for a year, then moved back to Frisco