Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

below the belt
between the eyes
it's only life, ma

i hope have hoped will hope
to get back the way we were before now... who we were before we had microchips installed in our skulls before a core of smart college kids started social media as we know it
nine more days till i pour out toast to the late great USA

I chug along
less balance and stamina
but not decrepit
just nagging little things
reminders
of the process that begins to show up
where you make mental notes
and laugh at times
and worry at others for a moment
then onward
plunging into a new day
of uncertainties and certainties
and surprises
good bad and indifferent
it's the life jam
the wonder of it all
the fortunes and misses
the great family and friends
that give you a warm glow
the chores that remind you
there ain't no quitting and complaining
it's just what it is
the life jam, jam on
with alacrity

the great family
and friends..

whatever it is
it keeps on going
the spirit of life

a soft voice whispers to the woods
there are trees that want to know you
no really, they are waiting to make your acquaintance
so pack up your pack, lace up your boots
follow the wind to the trails with open arms
walk off the earth

dino, wireman, lightning rod
mentors all, and a whole lot more
I choose these names because they have all left us
gone to that slam in the clouds
or somewhere where spirits hang out
and talk about the good old days
when words flowed like wine in a sack
to be squeezed into the ears of the brethren
on studio 8....and at readings and little dives
where wordlovers gathered to get their fill
oh man,,,those guys were the best
giants in the field come down from their beanstalks
fee fi fo fum, here comes another poem
sharp as an adze, jammed into the psyche
creators every one....salts of the earth
humble men
lovers. laughers, literary lounge lizards
I'd give anything to talk to them again
even in a dream

back in the day
yeah, the day
was there a day?

poets here
and poets over there
we are still joined
in mystical ways unarticulated
we still benefit from the words
preserved on paper
and in electronica , oh yes
the words , the words
they are more than the word, Word
they are lives than lived
they are the wisdom and personality
of people that tried to communicate
tried
to enlighten
amuse
stir the pot
oh yes, poets may cease to walk
but they refuse to die

I struggle for inspiration
some days are filled with lethargy
but I have come to believe
if I strap on my boots and get out of here
much of the fear and ennui dissipates
I've had a charmed life for the most part
three wonderful children, many terrific friends
I've survived bladder cancer and quintuple bypass surgery
not much to whine about
love has come and gone so many times
I can't recall the details of the stories
suffice to say i wasn't particularly guilty or innocent

past wafts in and out
painted with gratitude or guilt
my life a patch quilt

a still life in words
jam away my
brautigan blues

It's so nice
to wake up in the morning
all alone
and not have to tell somebody
you love them
when you don't love them
any more
https://allpoetry.com/poem/8508977-Love ... -Brautigan

quilts of blue poetry
a story in each square
the hula is all in the hips

back in the year twenty twenty one
Ferlinghetti died
hit me hard like i lost a friend i knew for 46 years
first time i met him in a poem in 1975
starting to feel like a new year for me
a time of resolution

tide goes out
prettiest shells abandoned
from dust to dust