Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

late night after the rye
has settled in the bowels
of this mortal ship of fools
and I, El Capitan...master
of ceremonies, master of none
I was painting over a painting
as happens some time you know
and sometimes all that layering
ends up being the key to the paintings success
and well you didn't exactly plan it that way
like this poem, i had no idea where it was going
when i started to type. mind satisfactorily
decommissioned by the whiskey....
yeah that conscious asshole needed a muzzle
not that this side of me has any moral authority
no legal stature, no union contract
it's just ...this ....is the fun side, and I like him
a smidgen better....but we have to live
together and so I try to keep the lines
of communication open...sleep well my prince
i have some crazy shit needs to come out
the keyboard is well within my reach
my fingers ski the black diamond

we rise as high as our awareness
each life is a mystery novel, spun
my the beating heart like no other
each set of lungs has fingerprints
on the cellular structure like a red barn
solid , adaptive, malleable in high wind
we read all the books, watch all the movies
still don't know shit, so we roll the dice
seven come eleven come snake eyes
peering into the future of our journey
the loves, the deaths, the struggle
to track down what we have no idea
we are looking for

rye, you say...
i need to keep my own lines open - you never know

a train of the subconscious which you have trained. I like a lot---the phrase "each life is a mystery novel" calls out to me.

judih, danno.....thanx for the feedback....... .....peace love understanding poetry

It would seem that if the muse must reach you through substance and experience the what is always waiting for acknowledgement
The heart the mind the soul
In a bowl of beautiful food for thought
Flowers growing in the distance
Thank goodness for color and scents
I imagine my light to surround me as I walk along
This road of no names