Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

a poem is meditation
verbalized in unadulterated moments
as spiritual as a walk in the woods
wearing nothing but a supermoon jacket

though at times we may find ourselves
in a part of town that smells like danger
a neighborhood of sorrow or regret
we never get to choose the path

we find ourselves on, we may
be a space shot to the dark side
of the moon clad warmly in our pink floyd pajamas
or we may get T-boned in our '88 Oldsmobile

Bodhisattva won't you take me by the hand,
for an afternoon of crumpets and gunpowder tea
listening to steely dan looking for that sparkle
it's all okay on poem-writing-day

the peace is in the pudding, the sweet
spot on the bat, the contentment is in
the purge, the words cry to be free
just like the canary

he tolerated his captivity, nothing more
you weren't best friends, it was
the dominant submissive paradigm
fully illustrated in golden feathers

and chirpy curse words

much to like about this, both the quirky spirituality and the - not sure what to call it, not cynicism but something related.

the peace is in the pudding

is a great warp of phrase

though at times we may find ourselves
in a part of town that smells like danger
a neighborhood of sorrow or regret
we never get to choose the path

--sounds like a familiar place

thanx Terri.....hope to see you around more...

I'm hearing Talking Heads now...
found myself living in a shotgun shack,
so I tossed the barking heads on tv out,
radio silence, the diamond, the arc,
no gunpowder prayers of
god is love.

I always felt bad for the birds-in-cage,
always wanted to unlatch their cells.
Let the canary fly, test out the scene.
If he drops dead, then you know the
whole big coal mine of civilization
is in trouble...

Strong poem.