Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

poetry is chocolate cake
hear its delicious lines
cut a stanza or two
put them on your critical plate
give taste reason and raison d'etre
inhale the aroma of choc-o-lat
slowly
convert it to yummy words
maybe only mumbled yum-yums
but that will suffice
literary art is a vice of self-indulgence
makes a sensibility fat
doesn't prepare you for the army
or give protest its hot peppers
its tough as a slum skin
no, poetry is too yum-yum
unless it is a fork
and life itself the batter impaled
you plunge your fork in
and don't forget your fork is a
tuning fork
the meter quivers
like iron-filings
but I am an indulgent poet
I'd pinch Stevie Nicks if I could
I'd ride a motorcycle up Mt. McKinley if I could
I'd plump trump with an uncut cake if I could
I'd sing the Heebie Jeebies if I could
I'd knock on wood if I could
but my knuckles caught a splinter
I'm caterwauling
the party is being raided by dietary police
all the fat people are being whisked off
to a holding room
seriousness is getting sassy
the inquiry into self-indulgence
has begun by collecting crumbs
"wipe that icing off your nose, boy"
and I am trying to reclaim the dried whip of it
trying to pick the outside of my nose
the outer derma
the show skin
the rub-a-dub-dub
and I'm in gaol watching the sun throw
illumination on the wall
far wall
I pick the dirt from my fingernails
and like the God of the Bible
praise it as good
but the nights bring dreams, indigestion
though I can't remember a thing
and though I don't really know what "infinite" means
I am infinitely sad

the tension is palpable...from poetry to poet to ordinary man...an edgy march along the trails of life....how did we fare ?
the poem to me is somewhat confessional.....as it poses many questions about the process of writing.....and the process of aging...
maybe I'm way off...I dunno
I'm just another late night DJ with somethin' to say

This is some fine work, Dan... I love it

You lost me at cake
I cannot think of anything else

Thanks for the comments.

I love cake---more than ice cream---maybe.

Careful! You just might end up eating those words. What will the calorie counters say then??


(good read! )

Since life is just one big mess after another, well, the poets fit right in.

The poets are the icing
Well digested metaphors
All the wind blows the doors
To my heart and soul
Open

Like a Wild West town
Pilgrims - natives and cowboys
Long discussions into the Dreamtime
The mind carries its music to every place
All that pleasure on my face

Words they come and go
The soul is too luminous
To hide it’s light

Or shape it’s shadowless face
Touching all in the human race

Ode to the church of Jana-(getting a little high and mighty)

Well we're not the only ones creating a mess.

One Beautiful Mess.