Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Visting the past
reminds us nothing last
forever

black smudges on a blue grave
tiny red flowers hiding in large green leaves
tomorrow when we look again
things won't seem the same

all thing pass blue to grey
red to black
so grab the balls of life
shake them because of the fact
you won't get another chance
you aint coming back
unless it's in shades of blue
like my tombstone
in shades untrue

the tombstone is not the past
but the foundation of the future

death is turquoise.
blue for the loss.
green for the envy
of life. combined.

Manipulating color schemes
creating false reality
but maybe what is truly seen
are shades within a spectre's dream.

The blacks and blues
and red of blood
make up the world
he now knows of.

The icy blue
of death's cold hand
the ebon shadow's
where he stands
they're all part
of this magic scene,
perhaps his spirit's
what we see
within this false reality.

one small stone
to mark the head
of the living passed
flesh and bone
worn thru life
burried now
'neath leaf and loom
one small stone
make no difference
were it a fancy tomb
rimmed in gold
or a simple marker
sealed in blue

the marker in my heart
sings the blues
and tears the page of poetry

I'll remember until I die, this:

brisk winter walk,
a stark child's grave

dark bed in packed snow

reveals the sleeping place
of the angelic face
preserved now in grace

as if the earth herself
melts frost with warm tears

riding on th bus
down Woodward Ave
\3 AM Detroit winter nite wee hourz
after th bars clozzzed riding my busss
shit I saw a big fat kid stomping a skinny small kid on hisz belly
"He already dead" somebody said
real politik
man out of shadows they were a abondoned daytime neighborhood police station
the friends
uhhh
super fly hats standing tall in the dimlit shadows
green and grey and black
lithograph

bus kept rolling
i yelled
"how can people do that "
all was quiet
Detroit buss
3 AM Woodward Avenew
99% benign and good
I stepped out onto the crips crust snow and wandered home to a bottle of wine and sweet basement windoze delerium sweet dawn asleep.
woke with sunshine already past the afternoon.

One never truly sleeps
until they feel the warm soft earth
cover the face and heart with her blanket.
Only the will we understand
life.

Oh a suicide a couple of hours ago
step=daughter's wedding shot to hell
her beaux's sister's beaux done it
in front of her beaux's sister

no tombstone for Jimmy
feed him to the sharks
no wedding today afterall.
we understand death
it's finality
always ready
ready or not.

compassion is the key
tombstone territory

Bury the fucker
in blue death
let him reside
in his own maggott scum
take your fucking oil with you too
go fight your war
with eternal worms
leave the breathing
to peace