Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I live on the edge
like so many old coots
finances are a bit of a crapshhot,
dice thrown against a concrete wall
slow motion plastic numbers

the expiration date
the code on the back
polypropylene sedatives
the fragile days made of glass
that a young-blooded male like me

never thought of, so I reach
for my walking stick that sometimes
props me up when the refrigerator dies
and the furnace coughs that distinctive
cast-iron emphysema belch

I plug the dike like a good boy
I get in the credit line
miles deep, can't see the end of it
What Me Worry, hell no
I'm Alfred E. New Man

a modern dinosaur
watching the world go by...
the purse-snatcher runs like a cheetah
as the cheater purses his lips and makes his move,
fuck your kiss of death corporate pig

I live in the clouds

"come on people now
smile on your brother
everybody get together
try to love one another
right now "


the youngbloods

powerful piece, SAW Blade, and one that deserved a 2nd read
...so far.

as I, too, feel the pressure of being to be that which dulls me

when does the clock strike ~end~ and life gets unplugged
leaving it all to the next one in line to suffer the agony
that this clumsy financial trap sets for damn near every ONE

cripes! (or is it "FUCK!"...) while screams at the deaf never heard
become a sacred-sort-of lullaby-by-and-by, so long and farewell

it's all for not(or is it knot.. the slip knot... the know not)
lingering deep within while the mask becomes looser and looser
slipping faster and faster from my face revealing the pitiful old fool
who nobody ever really knew... or cared to... I know. I'm the same
time is the master that holds the cards in it's deft hands, one flick
of the wrist and one's time is up... no reason necessary. what's the use?

It's music that suspends the pain, that dulls the galloping thoughts
that repeat themselves in the early morning (after that 1:45am piss)
that continue ringing in my ears, sounds without a meaning but only
a show for the mind to indulge in and plays tricks (no treats, thank you)
for without that tune, that special tune that bathes the soul in serenity
showing me that their is life in light that beams across all that I see.

funny how music does this without my knowledge but with my heart,
fine-tuned to that composition that triggers a sort of perpetuity in me
(presumably that illusive "HOPE" that I (don't we all?) draw upon when
there is nothing left to the mind to entertain, educate or elucidate us.

Youngbloods usually have the right idea. It's the economics and training that remain suspect at times.

"Fragile days, made of glass"... Yes I can see that.

Old blood/young blood, dancin' to the music means you gotta pay the piper, don't ya know......

enjoyed the comments fellas....