Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

meet is meet
and mans gotta...


*peace*

meeting peace head on without blinders and only say ahoha even as i am late mate i am so bad and that's life bless everybody

windows shine
fresh brown paint
(the painter as usual comes without advice)
thick-new smell
& sahumerio longing

ap well, well come to u
pull up a mind
and never matter the spew

oar feel free
to gnatter from the pew

painters are fingers
of gods hair extentions
dripping with aplomb
sans accountants attentions

gnattering from a pew can cause splattering some dew and some don't i for one have a ton of head matter gone askew

i gotta sus pen d
my thoughts inclanations
suspended animations
inflamed by dousings
intimations

bfree fore an reign
as u pour...

no matter the arrival date or time,
minds meet within seconds, complete
with half our intervals, separated only
by a metronome tick.

we are always on time,
our hands extensions of arm embraces.

we trace fingertips on the fleeting face
of daydream night shakes -- perfect,
the rhythm of a quick meter,
no sweeter the time, it's coming
no more alien than it's departure.

let us rescue each moment
breathing in, in unison

my time is short i retort to self and slide toward the edge of the shelf i am on a leash today and have little time to play it's ok my eyes hurt and i'm in of a Dr. Pepper cold as a totches wit or some some sting of persuasion in this equasion and thinking and spelling have gone with the wind of change i ramble off or do i?

in unison i may or not depart as i have leaked the mercury of time and being zoned elsewhere tho i care with immense stirrations of near verbage uncontrolled...i bid adieu for a tilted half moment.

rain....rain persistent....the backside of a cosmic drool
Michealangelo's David and the Venus de Milo lifesize in
white plastic yard ornaments....rain .....rain....on Baltimore
town today................

gazing into the 3rd eye
of an alien poet
an arcadian being
a sierra somestream
a doreen metro gnome
a mark de-wired construction
a mnaz sign - off and running
an l-rod weather vane
a wylde twist of thought

how the names break off chunks of communal bread
courteously elbowing in

I gotta go cause I got me a drop top
and if I hit the switch, I could make the ass drop

peel of smokin' wheels
and we are off to realms
of unheard of speed and
poetic formlessness...bop
...be bop...do bop..sketch
my spain.....headin' for a
love supreme................