Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the heat had me glued to some bllboard that i couldnt read- my glasses were for safekeeping - hidden from the raccoon like hands of this world- i hid from people out here- did a bunch of ceremonies- and now i hesitate --- like this wasnt already pre-destined- that extrodinary starlight that seeps from the skin-
when the lil leak happens in the vision and the past present and future kind of dance in front of the eyes- images - floating over their faces-
like veils of tenderness ... wispy and subtle - the longest hair wove down to back- to the very beginning- before i was born- before i was anybody= or nobody or somebody- i was a lil light-
and we all were- but there was things that couldnt really be said, or told = because the secrets of these elements was real responsability- the stones had said these things long before anyone could hear the language of the soul- and if they could- maybe they would not speak about it-
because the mystery was unfolding- and no matter how the thing tried to remain hidden it was going to come- to light-
the curves in the road were the same- yet different today-the goat the funky fence- the horse with blinders- the two vultures in the north-
the swords had tried to sever what was left
the house that always looked like it was going to fall down- the old lady house-
roolling hillsides of cows and i see color flowing almost as if it came from the inside-
that road seemed endless sometimes- all the thoughts i had rolling in my head- fucking ciagrettes- i spend far too much time thinking about that

You had me at "the heat had me glued to some billboard that I couldn't read- my glasses were for safekeeping - hidden from the raccoon like hands of this world."

and, " . . . the stones had said these things long before anyone could hear the language of the soul"

Yes, the mystery unfolds.

oh thse roads- and they do not lead to nowhere- everybody always talks about choices= are there really? i feel that harry potter bus ride ... every day---
yet
the sweetness out in that field
hear the rustle?
the bamboo windchimes
signal that breeze is coming


because the mystery

One good thing about being on blue roads in the middle of nowhere: it don't matter what time you show up. So hang ten, splash, & repeat... Keep smiling