Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the rubdown was
only the beginning
he walked his
bald eagle down
pennsylvania avenue
she looked regal
with her noble chin
sitting drinking
illytini's, sidewalk cafe
rain commenced
@ 2pm not 4
it was warm &
inviting within
the envelope
always wanted a
herd of buffalo
great big elephant
fence keeping 'em
in sublime submission
little brother had a
herd of giraffe's
& some geese
floating on the
pond by the big
hat beneath the
willow tree

Root Canal


confabulation

non sequitur

there's a pill for that
to free Frankenstein's colony from collapse

Post hoc ergo propter hoc

chop shop


.

Make’n out with
Voltaire’s smile,

Ooooohhh the curl,
of lip, hair … 0 virtue !

Ceasar the day
monster of the species,
sensorium, sequelae

The wax museum
on murder row;
empty phantom

Swing of the pendulum:
rogue excrement

Over the falls in a barrel.

so real girlhood
surreal father
first swimming lesson
at the Y
she comes home excited
happy joyous proud
Runs to her daddy
"Daddy I can float"
And daddy says
"So can shit"

Camu's hat
on Shamu's tail

Diving for meaning
In the Weimar republic

Authenic as a truck load of dead bables
THe times they are a changing

Decadent art
and blonde beasts

Haunting refrain
Schubert finished a symphony

All is done
all is well

here in the land of the free
and home of the lies

popcorn land mines
butter flavored of course

gallons of blood
to paint patriotic murals

I could go one
Sir loin
Sir real
what's teh big deal

gimme a lightning bolt
straight to the brain
I can't even scramble nonsense
chained to the meanings
that are meaning less

go go go go go go
og og og og og og
the relfections of a gone world

Dada you never knew me...

~west

ma ma
tried
da da
is dead

oh mama
I came from alabama
banjo getting hot
sun so cold

We got so old
when mona lisa smiles
better count your change
a long way to tip a rare
from dallas to chicago

winter roads
are gods own
truth
a better day
another day
a dollar in the bank

rank and file
marching orders
true believers
whan the moon hits your eye
amore
agora
manura

borereal

dada
despair
dance
dance
your blues away

decadent art
so beautiful
under the falling
plutonium
clouds

laugh
sing
clwons
Eye for an eye
bang for the buck

slouching towards munich
I hope I die
crass
cross my crass heart
beauty is coming to us all

too weird too gloomy
I would delete it
but that is GO
for me

I would give you more beauty
I walked out of an exhibit of dada
with tears in my heart
painters poets and musicians
under the falling doom
but creators still

live or die
life will go on
courage

Aphrodite lost in rich economies of love
Blind dates with Shiva coffee without creamer
Desire’s euthanasia of the common man
Freedom must incarnate voluptuous flesh
Manifest in pickle jars atop the Last Supper table

Antinomies wave goodbyes with strange hands
Private parts three sheets to a breeze
Torture translated from the French
We must demand a future symbol
Fidelity, trajectory, hysterectomy...!

.

misogony monotomy vasectomy
Cadmus seeks his sister
dragon seeds and jimson weed
Byron read it wrote it
his letters for the slaves
common man and common dreams
loves labor lost
fat cats pluto crats
Junkers on a binge
Athena is a headache
Aphrodite wears a nighty

fleshy words
for human kind
The Pope is a pickle

For Byron


Lame boy,
indulge me
in private letters.

marinara
cascara
illuminara

tuscon
surreal film series at th yWca
saturday evenings
drove down from phoenix
saturday
hippy college street food co-op
get th vibes
then to th yWca
where they sat around on big pieces of furniture
as bunuel stood atop a statue
and people deficated at th table
and went into th latrine to furtively eat
while gasps of delight were drawn from
a white sheet on th wall and the click
of a movie projector
clicl clicl click
reel to reel
saw th same faces made friends with outcast types
week after week
surrealist film series
to wake up in my car sunday crack of dawn
across from a soccer field
in far northern mexico
south side of tuscon
before heading back to phoenix
and my ashes
where i also made friends with anarchist artists
who also drove down to tuscon
and occupied a gallery
another saturday nite in tuscon
spread newspapers on th floor
played a trumpet thru a saxophone reed
forgot about rational being
in tuscon
north of hermosillo
awaiting a leading
that brought me here
to my confrontation
with being

Some times a poem is just a cigar...

milky silky rilke