Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

If a balloon can fly and pop
Smoke follows beauty

Fire snaps
Many spirits said” only you can walk in those shoes “
Protected by the Creator of all things
The moss seemed to massage the feet in a boggy place
In the moisture naked to the elements
Afraid of the shadows - the crows that day
Eerily screeching accross the courtyard-
The piazza ; rubbing its eyes conversations
Still close at hand like whispering under the bridge
try to carry the torch of knowledge and change
Perspectives on the human life and how you are beautiful

In this sunlight right now; in the armor of self
There was lovelessness in the empty place
Locked down and fed very little
This had grown weak and smelled like an animal
A captive of love

So consequently: feeling nothing is not an option
Pleasure can pervert the senses with ideas
That could take your breath sway
Wheezing
Lights a cigarette

Asthma: she says

After : that rough grabbing heat for his parts
To fill her - he wants to crawl inside her
Desperate to feel connected : to feel love
Even if it has eluded them
The chase for pleasure is before
lessons to love
Unforeseen parts Have jagged edges
A sense of risk and danger
She walked down the street to the ocean
There is a powerful spot

Rasta man in Jamaica John-0
Negril oh ya
Ginger flowers everywhere

I was in Negril
way back when ...short trip from Key West
everything was chill
the weed the sand the water
back then each day was beautiful
friends and food, mama ocean always
there to love you
we celebrated every single day in Cayo Huesa
by applauding as the last sliver of sun melted
into the equator, and big black dogs frolicked
among the sailboats
and we laughed a hell of a lot
so appreciative of paradise, or at least this stark
new picture, so opposite of mom and and dad's rules
we were free

now too many doctor visits
hard to get up and down with grace

saw wrote: ↑

February 23rd, 2020, 10:33 am

now too many doctor visits
hard to get up and down with grace

...and for me it's the memory that fails me
at least the part that's named "short term"
like a comic book, the "Idea bubble" just bursts
leaving me alone to stumble in my mind what left me,
what left this aging man who forgets what his wife said
only moments before... try to remember... try, try, try

Now ask me about years ago and my recall ain't so rusty
I speak lucidly and without long pauses before continuing
boring the life out of the listener who pretends that it's ok.

Ageing is not what I thought it would be... but it's my aging,
all mine to deal with and try tricks to get around those silent moments
that are never wanted, never expected... I find peace in my artwork
along with writing... nobody to be waiting in the shadows for my words.

I've said it all... I've said too much... pleasant dreams.
Buenos noches, amigos y amiga...