Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

yeah, the brakes failed,
& the doctor asked me to drink a cup of wormwood tea
& the blue chirping morning
still wave my feet,
let´s march!

slow march
through wormwood veils
this dusty wintry day

cold cold cold
searching for warm
outlook promising
it's all promising
jam sticky
back and forth
upside/down

I marched to the meandering
rhythm of a drumbeat in my head.
I watched a march in a parade for
the dead. I never intended to be
in the coffin, but a march has its way
much more often than intension can
determine. I've witnessed the march
of armies and vermin, the violent
march of boots, insane, determined
to find their way to kill, the will of man
to annihilate others. I've seen fathers
and brothers march out of their homes,
leaving babies and mothers crying alone,
and I have marched in anti-war demonstrations,
marched on with words in hopes of saving
creation. I am thirsty for love, my throat is parched.
Spring comes soon. This is March.

The bees came in
marching from the sunlight
zipping a lure to titillate Cat
with their little yellow jackets.

zee za-ra

When Sally saw
she roused and said,
"He's surely disappointed with me."

Then she buttoned up, twisted her collar
and went out to greet Spring,
then make hiss on her way
by him.

to know him is to hiss by him
twisted mind, twisted collar
revamped objectives
one more jump past
purely subjective
step beyond the known and hated
come on girl, fear's overrated

Me, You and our life together
where we tuck each in with words
and attempt Spring again
with our elongated neck,
figurative appetites,
marching to a jam
cast in studio eight.

The words...where are the words???they use to flow from ink in hand...where are the words??? I've looked everywhere...under the couch...behind my apple tree...even dug a hole in the garden...where are the words????????

Beware the ides of March

beware rumours
shades of ides
julius was here

OUR NOW (Penny Haiku)
By Steve Plonk

Our life is now
We had it in abandon
We glimpsed truth
We had it in reality
Where we see hope
We see it in strong measure
As has been said
In the book of the dead...

tibetan books
death and nearly so
lost in bardo

"Nietzsche is peachy but Sartre is smarter..." so goes the bard...
We are shards of God & I feel like a thick brick...
Make it so, that I stack quick, better than a bundle of stick(s)...
We muddle through, just me & you...
We come out shining like venetian blue...
Together we are part of God's house...
Onward & upward toward clouds which float,
I've been flying in my many-colored magic coat...

jam no plan
'cept to lay it
on the land
preferably with a band
hopefully with friends
it's sticky
it's jam

This living is only the birthing process,
before we've moved out of the body
and allowed our spirits to voice
it's reason to live.

We will give it life.
breathe, push,
breathe, push,

Yes.

birth self
daily
a new chance