Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

night of all the parties
the bouncin all round
town,

nights of dancin
sweet romancing,

all i wanna do is
be in the studio
creating alone,

miles and john mclaughlin
on the tunes playin
the jack johnson blues......

A sutra ya that's what this is the thread of enlightened minds flowing one into the other...one snow flake becomes another...one breeze flows into another....a Kerouakian blues from one page into another...

a blues like
a daze into
sunrise,

a take to
the skies
waxed flight,

pure delight
watchin the
wings,

flappin.......flappin......

out here on the perimeter

out here on the razor's edge

i pledge to o say cant ya see

by the lights of ft. mchenry........i do

by the light of the light
of the twinkly light
I take flight

by the silvery blue moon
I imagine the tune
of your blues

hear the silent sound
of corkscrews
top popping
glasses tinkling
lights twinkling

sound of laughter
let loose
where
the ducks
are on
the pond,

in the corner
stands
the swan,

she's ready
to bite
your
head-off

Lighted Xmas palm trees
grace the way, but
no room at the inn for the sea
and the season's advent
with gluttony not fasting
and there's room at studio eight
for three foolish men and more
they ain't a wise ass among us
yet we all know that Jesús was a great bodhisattva
even my Jewish-Zen hybrid therapist says so
and when the Muslims come back from Ramadan
they are renewed
so too I want renewal, rebirth, transformation
if not transfiguration
ah yes my New Year's resolution
prayer non-directed
complimented with clarity.
Now I'd like that for Xmas.

I'm ready now
to offer my head
all my blues and laughs
tears of joy!

to the supreme swan
of my longings

won't be long
before I'm dead
that being said
I offer my head

i giveth my head
again and again,

the running out
or running to,

more like a
coming round,

palm trees colored
past a dream,

sky lit with much
more than wonder,

waitin for that:
o holy night..............

little birdie little birdie
sing to me your song
such a short time to be here
such a long time to be gone.

i'll keep me haid
thankyuu
is what i want for xmas
to keep me haid!
an some plum pudding
if ya know what i mean.

the sugar plum of existance,
tis christmas!

chestnut's roastin on open
fires,
capn morgan in a cup-a-snow...........

christmas as a kid
unfolding series of events
a structured reality
yet some would share in something
as we now know we got freedom of choice
the holydaze
the folks at work the decorations
why not play along
get some mistletoe
get some
what i want fer xmas
to get some
cheer
and get clear
as a star of light
in the desert sky

It is another day done
getting closer to night falling
in black sheets of non-visible existence.
I wish upon a star falling from heaven
flaming one last time
protesting friction and gravity
defiant in its heated dive.
My wish my wish
secretly held to my heat
like a flaming star,
it too will burn in the friction of reality
and fall to the gravity of defeat
so why do I dream at all
or wish upon silly stars?
It's my way of protesting wasted life
and the gravity of old age
getting closer falling like the night
in black sheets of non-visible existence.

a 27 year old woman making Xmas tree balls
stuffed with flourescent paper and tied ribbons atop
her last Xmas she knows and is present now as never before
her mother helps her she doesn't hurt so bad
a hospice Xmas at home one last time
and even for us old geezers there is hope
but not for her she's an angel in waiting
so the need for transcendence
the realm of shooting stars and silly dreams
and sugar plum faeries
and what my wife treasures
memories and cheer.
so i play along even get into it a bit
and sing joy to th world one more time.
what i want for Xmas is to be
more like old Scrooge after his enightenment
and a merrier xmas than you've had in many a year!
god bless us all!
buddha bless us all.
kwan yin bless us all
moishe bless us all
there's no place like home.

Like Ebeneezer Scrooge I wear my ignorance
in this season seized by transformation
Humbug Bah Humbug
ghosts of the past, present and future
like bumbling metronomes
released into a new season
immaculate virgin birth
clean as foil on greeting cards
the smell of new money
or apples and cinnamon
families drawn thin as glass balls
yes, bless them every one