Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the sun is setting
why is this night different?
end of miracles

ice water
up to his chest
climbed out upon mudbank
shivering fear
woods then light
a porch in the night
woke to sun
damp and worn
to the road
sunday morn
thumbout one way then the other
no matter
no mind
wud ya rather be clever
or kind
that is the question
the turning
and returning
meek wretch
comes down from the mountain
nirvana can wait.

(A port from the General Discussion Board)

the boards here suffer
a weird stochastic resonance
one-off life in
Fits and Starts
a strange
saccadic suppression

it is all thes fucking truck drivers
too many god dam truck drivers

they run over your kids if you don't watch out

i made a new years resolution

going to use lots of smileys next year

smilingjacky

silent bob's mushrooms
front porch stooping
stoop sitting
stinging resins in the pipe
jerks and starts
fits an fifes
i tried to look up yer slogan
it's a mystery like the big bang
all sins forgiven
the implosion begins.
the black hole awaits
parallel string theorums
pluck harmonic dischords
melodic
pure.

there's nothing like a book
nothing like a song
nothing like nothing
Steinbeck's wrong
Ezra I analyze in one fell swoop
a simple gay blade who had the scoop
mess with the romantics
is that a crime
better your Byron
any old time
nothing like a book
spring like a mind song unsung
making babble mine

mess with the romantics

it is best to smile when you do that

I never use enough smileys

these text based communties

are text based

some smart alleck remarks just hurt

I should turn my cheek to unkind remarks

another new years resolution

One day the hero
sits down,
afraid to take
another step,
and the old interior angel
limps slowly in
with her no-nonsence
compassion
and her old secret
and goes ahead

"Namaste" you say
and follow.
(D. Whyte, the heart aroused

my sister myself
empathy
[n] understanding and entering into another's feelings

Jim 'n ST
Non acrid I
Pointed caucus flautus
Ignored
For Lack of Evidence
Your Honors
On my Honor
I'll stoop on that
You?

if i were a carpenter
i'd stick my coffin in the freezer
for a real cool send-off

but i ain't
and i goin the way of the ash
the forest tree that one day withers
and laughs its dry way home

he who goes up the mountain
one day comes back down
how does he show?

there's my cousin the madman
who descends on occasion
to dine at the family picnic
he pretends to sandbox and play
till the wilds fill him with fire
and he goes right back up again

there's my friend the philosopher
who ascends on occasion
to dine with lesser noise
he frolics with the aum and the avalanche
and when the peace fills him with sweet
he comes right back down again

there's those who just watch the mountain
neither up nor down partake
but hang out on a limb
feeling that precarious joy
of breathing another day

there are some who fear the mountain
a massive amount of gravity stored there
there are some who will throw it out of gear
coming down tehatchape
just to see how fast them trucks will go

the race to the bottom of the miracle jam

the words of panta come to mind

it is not a competion among the waves

it is an ocean of love

this was wonderful

where is wireman to have the last word?

where is wireman?
wireman's gone mountain trekking
playing harmonica
at the mountain girl cafe

if you listen very carefully
you'll hear the chord of a wired plea
(as if we could forget)

8 day miracle jam
inching down the trail

If I could find the symbol
to express degrees, I'd
seize the moment to
display a celsius freeze,
one word less than frozen,
i'd wire an 8-day moment
up to eternity, riddled by
the stars who grace
our sky with their presence,
their words are gifts and i am
lifted from a front row cafe seat
up into the chandelier, peering
into a miracle wonder.