Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

how books come and go
one moment they are there
and then the wind takes them a way

beautiful lolita
reminds me of my uncle
"bambo knees" she called him
you know these people when you are a kid
they are asexual
then I was a young adult maybe 20
and he tells me of his mistress in the pacific back in 45

a grocery store in balitimore
was his fate
but he always wished he had stayed in the Philippines

a local girl maybe 14?
he wanted me to seduce her just so he could hear the details
listen through the door
but that was back when girls still had to go through puberty
it was too weird for me
she had breasts but her nipples were not there yet

yeah I have tasted the maggots in my brain
and i was not offended

Humbert Humbert was a comic prop for Vlad N. methinks:
a vehicle for his detestation of yankee ingenuity
if not yankee innocence; he cracks some decent yuks,
here n there, Charlotte Haze
abides, but Vlad N. was no pal of partisans;
with Stanford stamped on your jacket
yr in for some bad joss

[adj] of extreme beauty; "her exquisite face"
[adj] of delicate composition and artistry; "a dainty teacup"; "an exquisite cameo"
[adj] lavishly elegant and refined
[adj] intense or sharp; "suffered exquisite pain"; "felt exquisite pleasure"

i am an ignorant child,
literary criticism is beyond me but
I thought the first 68 pages were exquisite
not sure which of those adjectives best fits, maybe 1 and 4

The Magician of Lublin been much on my mind this week,

icon dialectic, crap DraCoolas
bonobo lolitas,
I'm a lackluster bon vivant
and love life even as Cordet raises her dagger

my Nobakov knees are chapped from the floor
It's the Crusades all over again
my agent wanted to change my name to Humplebert Inkldink
when I fired him he looked insulted.

The Impaler never looks back
If cartoon characters had a union
Yosemite Sam would be president.

and love life even as Cordet raises her dagger

Louise?

one difference between your picture of the Wehrmacht and US
the Germans had better armor

what are we waiting for?
I just don't know.
whenever I think it can't get worse
it does
and our dear leader's popularity increases
yes
this is looney toon land

good night Irene
I will see you in my Dreams

not Louise, Charlotte

I'm as happy as Marat is his tub

the Revolution ain't what it used to be

The Magician

When you reach for a star
Only angels are there
And it's not very far
Just to step on a stair
Take a look at those clowns
And the tricks that they play
In the circus of life
Life is bitter and gay

There are clowns in the night
Clowns everywhere
See how they run
Run from despair
You can be thrilled
And you can be free

Kate Bush

oui oui, La Mort du MaRat, that is you
in your tub of salts and the aristo
heiress coming to avenge her dishonor,
yeah man, and you got some righteous
medical chronic and a quart of T-bird:
cool sort of like Hanna- Barbera
does a guillotine, a fractalled
Robespierre, or Lippy the Lion at least--
Charlottes, Corday or Bronte
most likely playing a scene by Dante:
If it's Vlads we are after, make mine Lenin

give me Cordet with a knife over Bronte with a pen any day
the guillotine is an honest instrument. not unlike the electric guitar
Jaques Roux on lead. My fractals are named Patrick Henry.

the angels are ajar with revolution
Robespierre was a wimp compared to Osama
it's the classic comparison between words and action.

Time to change Lenin's underwear
grow your own cotton
it takes a government to turn a sea into a desert
Aral
a hippy pipe dream
but I still beeleave
watched over my machines of loving grace

at the risk of sounding like an anti-Semite
the Hebrew abomination on the mountain top
coming back with a vengeance
too much testosterone
thinking of city City CITY
what is slouching towards Jerusalem
not more security moms
an iron maiden has got Vlad's number
time for a curfew on male politicians
I don't think it's Hillary either

so Osama's a revolutionary?
we all wanna change the world.
act tough words take skill
David played the game from
Napolean to Marat.
he was better than
daggers and Big Bombs.
angels are scaring me onward.

Mae West for president

brides of Osama
brides of Jesus
mother of god
mother night
Mother Light
gimmee that old time religion

Fops parisian with potassium chlorate
or plumes: the Deed
taking precedence over the Idea--
though loathe to concur,
(jeffersonian guilt
creeps up now and again)
a retrofitted blade, or maybe just
vats of sodium pentathol
(come and get yr medicine biddy)
in the parking lot of the B n A
would work; though multicultural
tumbrils would also be
prudent; hemp also has
its perks: imagine a Michael Dell
swingin' from an I -beam:
though piked buccaneers on London Bridge
a perennial monarchist decoration

David was the perfect revolutionary
Like Osama with a deft blow
why use A-bombs when jet fuel will do?
a stern rock in a sling, a bandage.

napolean as depicted by David
heroic as the evening news
hand to his breast

my pipe dreams are anonymous
I'm a gilded icon, a refracted image
you should have heard the crash
when Goliath fell.

velvet revolutions are nice
when poets step up to the plate
The Colossus of Rhodes
fell with a whimper
so did the USSR
what a pity
too much fucking testosterone
no more military messiahs

lets all hail Lennon and Groucho
we are marching on to shibboleth