Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Buffalo Tears

within a pastel dream
are three lanterns lit
each one for a moment

lapsing into a fog
the glow no longer
as sharp as before

each eye searches
somewhat mystified
by reality succumbing

to the vile interpretations
of earth science and
one thousand mouths cry
for love they never had

please release the demon
that hinges on your wings
flapping mercilessly

upon ideas of freedom
while baby at night sleeps
thru the song of carousels :

eight stiff horses marching
the same path without end
as life lessens its truth
and uncertainty melts into
troughs made from bamboo

distorting the meaning
glowing in wanderlust
before some wicked trio
bathed in nothing but
chinese silk teddies dyed
a pure new moon black

the mind shafts
grow longer in
a desperate search
for necessity
feeding upon the
gallons of destiny
spilled in miro-esque
phantasmagorical wonder
alighting imagination
into vapors of surreal

mayhem pursuing delicacy
traipsing deserted alleys
without endings
........i stall
at the corner of
pause & cottonmouth
asking if more wine
is easily available
for my parched dream
imploding on itself

(buffalo tears fill the vacancy)

_____^_____
Cecil B. Lee

an acid trip of imagery....

coincidentally I just watched Orange Sunshine on Netflix
a documentary on the birth of psychedelics,
quite a story......

and sometimes thoughts and words can mirror a forgotten "trip"

I might take that Orange Sunshine trip
ride the psychedelic memories that imploded
imagination into the full-blown ride never...
ever to be repeated. Like going backwards .

i enjoyed my trips, but a few...more than enough.

thx, Steve...