Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Kung fu grasshoppers
Fires on
Snow melts
Setting sun beckons
Release of evening
Clear chill, night
Trees branching like
spiders on golden hillside
Shadows marking the return
Stars like u could reach out
& touch 'em
Living life easy

all God's children
such erotic bubbling stews
underwear goes flyin
from sea to shining sea
across every continent
every word a hunter
a reach
a stroke
a whisper
a howl in the night enlightened
every crossroad a hot breath
bullseye on your soul

fire burn and cauldron bubble
weird sisters hand in hand
and Bukowski beats his wife with a silver chain

I could not be her Neanderthal
because I was afraid
of a disease called man

all God's children got to be free
all God's children got to be fed
all God's children got to be bred

St Jack loved his mother
so did Oedipus

I come near to killing mine
thank god this ain't poetry
this a path with heart
not there is anything less about poetry
I just ain't got it in me

Erotic as a rutabaga
but I can survive
on sweet memories of true love

I will take it as far as I can
but I know I am still the poser
on Action Poetry
and I know it when I see it
when you three sock it to it
but in my own autistic way
I stumble after it

I was born an innocent and trusting child
just like all the men on death row
one dimentional men are made not born
I am my own dam fault

no one to blame
for being lame

thank god I still got a trace
just a glimpse
a faint touch of
her skin
still on the tips of my finger
I thought of her touch the other day and I almost fainted
from the elation

just go round me on this one, but dam it I was tempted to delete but I love a path with heart so maybe this is me being stupid
or brave
or in bad taste
but I need to jam
now if I could just go hug a tree
or an elephant maybe I could get my ass outside now on a beautiful day


like the Last Leaf by O'Henry
I keep watching her fig tree,
as if my life depended on it.
learning from old buk
my fear is my art

cut me loose let me fly
after all these years I am still alive



Search found 29 matches: suicide by matricide

I would not be her Neanderthal, for all her smiling up at me, all she had to do is say yes, but she kept saying no, kept struggling against me, it was a wrestling match and all the while me watching her face, still with a smile, she was a big girl, and I was not man enough to use all my strength to pin her to that mattress. At a certain point it was getting too violent for me. Despite her smiles. It was her "no", and what the hell were we doing in her bedroom anyway She invited me there I am sure. Maybe it was too see her etchings, she was an artist.



Too much fear in me, fear of myself. I was all froze up inside from my brush with suicide by matricide. Never dawned on me to connect that episode with my mother with violence against women. But I was changing, thanks to the acid I think.

I am sure she just wanted to have fun. But I was too fucked up in the head to give it to her. What hell was I going to subdue her and have my way with her. Leave that for Bukowski I guess.

Maybe. But I will never forget her eyes, glowing embers of her fire, her desire.

"nobody can tell me nothing about dames"

my last post on this please pardon non erotic wander
I see my life as a tapestry these days
people and events warp and woof
a death in Washington
an assassination if Dallas
matricide in Baltimore
a woman in a bed in Pittsburgh
this is not really about the erotic it is about violence and women
it is my existential strip tease
how it finally dawned on me how the past haunted me
the not quite conscious stuff that has to rise to consciousness to be free of it

oh god
sorry sorry sorry
help me I am typing and I can't stop
time to ride

puppet dressed up
ready to roll
rock the storm

go on wit your bad self
the jamrock roots rebel
rootsman on a big beat earth
reverberation of creation, the
elation, the vibes of tribes
on interstellar byways
comin' through

as drama winks her stalwart eye
all hell breaks loose
somewhere in the desert
a point or two on a map
nexus of fear meets anger and strength
not to be missed

life goes on
amid the drama
nexus of hope and love
blink and you will miss it

the world situation is desperate
hell breaking lose everywhere
and nothing travels faster than bad news, not even light

prayers sent

still here to read a jam
all's well
on with the show

Beautiful jam
Traffic jam
Jam sandwich
Over rainbows
End of under
Jam rolls.....on....

morning
traffic picking up
people heading to work
as an explorer of imagination
i'm working too
present moment rubs up against old memories
like the broken ice in the river
bumping up against itself
heading downstream
with me getting close enough
to hear the beat & the shish-shish
of that
rockin the tic-tockin

morning quiet
after beat beat beat bass
gift of solitude