Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

phantom cascade
illusory obstacles
caressed and polished
praised in guilded haze

walls where no walls stand
floors built on emptiness
standing in stupidity
mud-caked pretense

the mountain top levitates
the view grows majestic
as ions expand
and laughter dissipates

sound becomes nature
flesh melts to sighs
hands held disintegrate
one-ness, huge-ness, life-full

let's not descend
(once up, always up)


judih

higher and higher
ladder call it love
the up above made
beatific on parade
cafe writing today j
filled uo half of one
of those drugstore
memo books with a
pen that cooks and
anarchy all round thee
the big ? in the cafe
was about this coca-cola
bottle handle on the
natural health drinks
display, o the complications
that arise each and everyday
like the red balloon in that
movie from when we were
kids, let's keeep rising, yes............

Disposable
at random,
shows it's teeth,
lays me out,
on the floor,
alive.
I linger there,
play dead
with myself,
headlocked,
in the heaviness,
of chance.
Against my will,
slowly,
I'm re-levitated
to hope,
pimped by tides,
for a few minutes
more.

illusory obstacles
caressed and polished

the trickster
Coyote waits and he is always hungry

standing in stupidity
mud-caked pretense

a good solution for me is

memo books with a
pen that cooks and

I'm re-levitated
to hope,
pimped by tides,
for a few minutes
more.

A deep breath and rest
—”And I will lay me down and bleed a while, and then I will rise up and fight again.”
__________________
nothing to do with anything I suppose but my mind turns back to my father.
fatherhood, if men are filled with pretense and good intentions where does that leave their children I wonder?
Trying to find a father's love, thinking about Crazyy Mile and his quotes, That bleed and fight again was one his favorites when he had lost again. He always had a saying for every situation, but never a good one about women. not that I can remember.

the flowing phantom cascade
on it's way to the dwelling place
soundtrack by riyaz tabla &
raagini tambura me on my
C bamboo flute....the sounds fade.........

I never sang for my father
I never cried for him
Now he reaches out to me
Dreams of a loving father
The man I feared
The man I feard to be
Silent dreams
Sound track courtesy of a beating heart

caveat emptor on the floor
let the buyer beware at the door
a flowing phantom cascade
of gypsies and tinkers
and drinkers of pimping tides
wafting away up high
lonely as a cloud above
a lovely host of daffodils
fluttering and dancing by the lake
the sun gets heavy
laughter dissipates
and floats unon th breeze
while away with ease
sweet scents take their leave