Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I decided for the holidays,
perhaps I should dye my hair.
Purple might be an interesting hue.
It's regal and exciting, vivid and dramatic...
just like I'm hoping I am, too.
But no, I don't think purple is a good idea.
I'd stand too much out in the crowd.
How about orange? Would that be too loud?
Nah, I don't think orange will work for me.
Let's see. I could try to compliment my holiday outfit.
I'm going to wear black pants or a skirt and a glittery
true blue top. What's to stop me from dying my hair blue, too?
Blue might be nice, it would match the lights on the front
of my house. Good thing there are a myriad of colors to
choose from and nobody to ask who'd poo-poo the idea
like a you-can't-do-that kinda spouse!

Hell, I could dye my hair rainbow colors if I want to!
Purple on the left, blue in the back, gold on the top,
and even indigo on the ends!

Oh, I LOVE the holidays! The thought of decorating sends me!
And none of the colors even the least bit offend me,
so tomorrow, on Christmas eve, I'll be off to the store
before they close .... and what color hair I end up with
on Christmas morning?

Who knows!

It was only a fleeting idea
like winter is fleeting, seemingly
important and long while it's happening,
the dreadful snow, the imprisoning ice,
treacherous roadways, costly heating bills,
long like death is long while lying there in
a coffin waiting to wake up again,
that's how long it seems, but it's
really only fleeting, like an idea, like
a stupid idea like dying your hair
a silly color or ice skating on the
reflecting pool in DC in front of the sign
that says keep off, or like hitchhiking home
because you're money's funny and a cab
might as well cost a million dollars, or deciding
to start a revolutionary movement or maybe
having an idea to up and quit your job outa
the blue without any way to pay for your
kid's medicine or a loaf of bread because
if you don't you know you'll just keep dying
inside, or maybe like when you have the
idea to walk out on your spouse, take all the
money out of the bank and just up and split
'cause you gotta go before you go insane
and shoot him in the head
while he's sleeping

just a fleeting thought like that,
the hair dying thing... yeah, no, these
kinda fleeting thoughts don't mean a thing,
they're sorta like winter, really,
just a dead time of year when the trees
and grass and all living things sorta
go dormant on you and you wonder
whether they'll make it through so
you light lights during the way,
sing carols and hymns, rock out all night
long while lighting candles for the almost
dead but not quite, 'cause you'll never let
yourself die like that in a cavern, chilled,
iced over

'cause it's all just fleeting, you realize,
like winter 'cause soon enough, even though
it feels like it might be forever from now,
it'll be spring again, i swear

and so that's why in the winter
there's a newborn baby who
people worship

'That even Solomon in all his glory was not...'

a little red bird hopped upon my window sill

and said 'poo tee weet'

poor old big sad hairless apes

got so much to think about

If I ever have a pet bird

I think I will name it

Vonnegut.

meanwhile I am losing the Battle of The Bulge

'Nuts'

I have never seen a fat bird

Except in the oven

I been thinking about a Christmas goose

Scrooge is just alright with me.

And it was the night before Christmas

and peace broke out

Stille Nacht

and I am all alone

I miss my dog

not even a mouse in the house

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Ahhh summer
she brings with her
Jingle Bell buzzing mosquito's
jingling with excitement
and bodies swollen with heat,
turkey roasts and delicious
pavlova's will be the
Christmas meal, their feast
on such a joyous occasion

I love the
Christmas beetles, at night
they clumsily crash into
our windows, our doors
our homes falling onto
their backs doing what looks
like a rap style dance

through the air
down roads and Avenue's
coloured lights light up
homes
thonged feet,
sleeveless arms, bare legs stand
merrily around smoking barbecue's
drinking a beer
or two or three or more

white noses, hidden eyes
cackling over life be in it
Norm jokes

quick, surfs up
lets go for a dip

yes

I love Christmas
Down Under

red, black & white look
snow smells & cracks
reggae-gospel-rain & thunder
wake up

Let's all sing out a Christmas song,
It's going to be tuneful
It won't take long...
Just a brand new halleluyah
To our birthday Jesus
Praise for those who will protect us
Troops in foreign lands and guardian angels
Everything hopeful that Christmas entails
Sending and receiving cards & gifts in the mails...
Praying at the late night candle celebrations
Spreading the joy & remaining lively & well,
Remembering the Christmas story to tell...

diggin' the day
recovering from
big party
ouch!

With all the strength I can muster
A hangover is my goal
Though it keeps escaping my grasp

Coffee croissants & jam....

4th cuppa joe
bagel
hummus and bacon
love that pig
tomato
cucumber
slice of heaven
joe trying to roust the creatures
for a rehearsal
me in a jamsturbation mood
raga machines
garage band
and whoever shows up
@ mi casa su casa
merry merry
jam on poets

late breakfast at Panera
(cranberry walnut bagel,
deepest darkest of coffees),
poised on the cusp
of the days last errands.
rain rolls down the plate
glass window, light but
steady for the second day
and did we dodge a
snow white bullet or what?
at the next table a boy
about ten is telling his
his grandparents all about
the battle of gettysburg
stories of soldiers and
what some kid at school said
and I'm a fly on the wall,
he's telling them about the books
he likes to read and grandma
and grandpa are hanging on
every word and it's obvious
that they're together for the
holidays, there's no angst or
discord and they're open to
each other in that loving way
that skipped generations have
for each other. oh, I'm not
ready to go just yet, grandma
says, and neither am I, their
chatter a balm,
their presence a peace,
an unexpected present
on this eve of eves.

(this morning´s street gifts)

Kiss the Solstice

solstice
the rock bottom
nadir of heat and light
moment of divine paradox
stand still and wonder

Even scientists believe in god
and the solstice
for fear, for habit, for awe
or just for the time of year
when we pantomime the myth
doing it year and every year again,
a necessary reminder
that virgin birth may be possible
likewise peace on earth, goodwill toward men
giving is better than receiving, yada yada etc.

So it's hard for a scientist to believe in god
he does so only with stressed credulity
and a great deal of determination
which could be mistaken for faith
he is accustomed to weighing and naming miracles
and knows that Christmas is a whorehouse
built upon the ruins of a church

But the scientist marvels at the same solstice
even while he knows that it happens every year
his ancestors prayed and planted
and carved calendars to this same solstice
before we knew that it was only
the elegant result of a tilted world
a spinning, orbic accident
and we conjure stories to match
what happens year after year
dependable as god and promises
how could he not believe the solstice?
or that god is doing startricks in a red elf suit
or that Spring is Winter's guaranteed gift?

The scientist loves the season when he can predict, no prove
that light is caused by darkness, that death is simply incomplete data,
that the seed dried and buried will yet rise to the sun
which is why
scientists are so good at religion
they kiss the solstice

an altar of icons
stacked poems, burnt incense, empty candle wicks
satin padded LD intercom
from heart to heaven
unplugged, fragrant coupon to ecstasy
tonight's the night
primal scream in harmonic gregorian calm

sun fusion
moon eclipse
earth spins
winter solstice
holomovement
unfolded jam

i hear santa
gregarious reliable santa
rooftop reprobate
sainted night prowler
drunk on cocoa
cookie crumbs on the couch
alive with chimney dust
empty-handed
all given to others
chuckling on the upswing