Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

walking dirt between my toes
highway bypass roars
heady gusts of wind
running thunder stories
of distant ventricles

the blow of eastern dune
invades eyelid perception
my fakir mind
sheds blood
offered by dissection

haiku short
biting sand-blast
dissonance anew


judih

the ghost of Eastern noon
where rain settles a level of gloom

there is sand in my eyes
i can see through your lies

the ghost of Eastern gloom
comes to visit me at noon

there is sand in your lies
i can see through your eyes

there is truth on his tongue
your infidelity rests on your lips
we no longer exist
in eternal bliss

Luc-

the prophet always has sand between his toes
waiting to be washed by wine and tears
his eyes shoot blood
he has locusts and honey on his breath

the desert is a room for prophets
they peek over horizons
with eyes heavy with grit
the prophet sees

the flame of fortune teller's grit
wraps its serpent grip
around my ardent heart

and i lay
prophet at my ear
telling me to stay
so that i may hear

how my lover was untrue
tears and sand conjoin
concrete of my romantic pain

the flame of sand dune grit
has unraveled truths untold
with these stories, my soul has split

Luc-

the grit is not the half of it
betrayal is a wilderness
vast as doom

in the perfect desert
the sands are white
and drift like truth

rock crushes scissors
scissors cut paper
paper covers rock

it's all in the game

the game his lips played
were whispered into the sand
truth told in storms
where his dust was thrown into my face
the grit of his lies
sour

betrayal is an indulgent war
where winners become foul

he offered a heaven
when times were beautiful
his haven smashed
when bleakness entered
into the wilderness of my heart

his once candied heart
now vomit in the wind

luc-

the desert is a place of storms and journeys
a fractured expanse with longing and attitude
the desert is a place with sand and reptiles

The trick is to never blink.
leave lies in the sand
the gritty bed

spit into the wind
and you get what you deserve
the desert
the desert
wind on sand

I am unworthy of the desert's desserts
his spit against my face
a romantic disgrace
it was the end of our love
and I leave the stage

stage disintegrates
earth rotates
my path has no circumference

a birdsong smiles
a branch offers shade
dawn suggests hope

love leaves dessert trails
in crumb patterns on pavement breaks,
takes it's leave of mystery beds
underneath rubber treadmark tries

hungry remain the eyes,
dry stays the throat
coated by repeat mistakes

we break ground with sonic
birdsong tweats, sweet
a season's change,
rearrange
suggestions
of branch offerings
by a soar and a light,
landing on a perch

love leaves dessert trails.
we eat hearts nibble by nibble
'til wails of aorta rushes
brush our ears.
can't you hear?
can't you hear it
ask you once more
to come?

if you see buddha in the dirt
between your toes
and ask him 'are you the buddha?' and
he answers 'yes'
you must kill him immediately
if, however, he answers: 'The Toe
that can be spoken is not the ultimate Toe'
you must, half-crazed with ecstacy, crush
him to your bosom