Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

your blade - my blood
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

One thousand eight-hundred fifty-two dreams
launched from one string rolled into a ball
kept under the bed of paisley mattresses
piled in juxtapositions of staircases
reaching out for the pluto world of cool.

Annihilate the passage of time thru rumblings
of dissatisfactionary, revolutionary mumbo-jumbo
humus defying inscriptions laden with cryptic
noises deafened by the slaughter-cries of cheetahs
wrangling with the reductionary forces of power.

Spin mercilessly upon graves that eat the flesh
and leave behind the bones of structural ideals
while flushing the brains with amorphic spatulas
whisking away the hubris of times left-handed crank
reinventing the rivets of amulets held by loss.

Three-quarters of life intrudes upon silence
with questions of stupidity drooling from faintness
while the masked boobaloos encharter squirrel wisdom
across the bent barriers of invisibility's horse
recklessly attempting wisdom at the cost of death.

All this to offer appeasement to the bent backs of time
ticking away all that it was before time itself runs out
leaving behind little to no traces of existence to others
clam-baked into their own trials, their own tribulations
unable to gently confess obedience to that which is unknown.

______^______
Cecil B. Lee
[SoC 2003-08-22 08:44:00]

Holy fuckballs of horse flutes tied like old swing ropes that once hung over the river bank ! kittened into condition old-fashioned by steam and an orange porter festive with knock I may not have to get out the snowblower this morning just use your words to blow all the snow in the driveway in one great gust all the way to the Newfoundland coast to cover the ghost tracks of whales victim of the wooden sailing ships whose guttural was eager for tiger value when the jagged mind goes quiet the furry cars fill with regret as the pumped boys long for escape but fear it too -

Whew!

Now that was a comment and 9/10ths, El Mingo!

I'm grinnin' knowing my piece pulled this right outta you, amigo! Muchas gracias.

I can't equal mingo's response so I won't try, but I did want to say this poem got my attention. The title is a little gem in itself. And throughout phrases like "the bones of structural ideals" and

deafened by the slaughter-cries of cheetahs
wrangling with the reductionary forces of power.


grab my attention. The poem is a cluster of images and thoughts that spike both the senses and intellectual response.

I'm grinnin' knowing my piece pulled this right outta you, amigo! Muchas gracias.

That it did, Cecil -

I say we annihilate the passage of time. Who's with me?

I say we annihilate the passage of time.

I say we time the annihilation of passage too, that way we stone two kills with one bird. Voodoo the whole chicken. Meet afterward over bourbon, steak with mushrooms, garlic, red beans & rice. Tell tales of the lost colony and Jamestown in the starving time when they ate corpses to stay alive - can't believe the whole enterprise began that way - some would say we are still eating corpses, a philosophical point at best but not entirely devoid of reason -
You wouldn't catch the pilgrims up north doing that shit - hard to imagine one hungry Pilgrim saying to another hungry Pilgrim, "Let's dig up Aunt Polly and eat her"