So…the gator swerved through the carpeted water, to the tune of a Spanish guitar,
halcyon eyes, glared and grinned with the moon, in the swamp…the breeze gathers a voice
poignant as a skylark, it wails the harmonious scream of night. Two turtles in the stream.
oh, the watch says 2am, but I can’t remember a yesterday. Green is a memory.
No this is not the netherworld, like the roots would say…i am, to
Gather the silences, and all the illusions, in jars, to fit in the shelves, and
Let the willow sway, and sway with the stars, till the universe is at the swamp floor.
Everything is. Let the gnomes say hooray! I am.
Shpongled at Noon
Shpongle overhead, just drizzling
For now, the sky gets lost behind the sound,
Of all those tribes combining, under a flag
Misnomer, this has happened before,
Time is a flat circle, eternity glares
With childish fingers, the mouth begins to dry
Walking past Viscaya the other day left an impression,
Of mansions, towering gumbalayas,
Who lives in that comfort? Thirst drags the foot
One, two, three, as it has always been,
Man seeking life, nourishment, pleasurable sights,
Since the spark set the night on fire,
Push onward past each collection of dreams,
We are all uniquely human, but ghosts
Of different realms, passing in silent
To startle the moment,
Not this fortress, this reality bends in step,
Wow, the heat begins to dress
All the creases that hold what is me,
Together, in sweat, ironic
For thirst is the challenge, to be quenched….
A new way to say hooray! Said the gnomes, through the headphone,
Install an av jack in to the brain,
Let me show you, girl,
The circus of brilliant lights, that is inside,
Slather the tongue in sugar and sodium,
why is it so fulfilling,
To drink something that creates more thirst,
What then do I crave?
To be satisfied?
Or is it the thirst that drives the day?
Neither, for when two souls meet,
The thirst between them is deliberate,
That once fulfilled,
Or so it was said. Who ever really knew?
God? The clumsy inventor,
Or the universe that just happens to work,
Or the scientists with their grins,
At pulling up natures skirt,
Dancing in revelry and calling it their own,
Shpongle at noon,
Yes, I think I’ll walk.
Shpongle Fish Fry
Shpongle mast, rolling in luminescence
Takes a landing at Revolution
Flying ship of blue, grins cosmicly
Bits of starry drool,
Intertwine at stove
Fried with fish, reely big
An unknown masterpiece of grease
Popping in splats to different beats
Strung to the hull in harmony
Shiva’s dance of eternity laps the shore
As thoughts come racing, then gravity
Of her also going
Asteroid in the wind,
Did that just happen?
Was the shared status a tongue in the cheek?
Or happy coincidence,
Darkened clouds of yesterday swell at the borders
To attempt a fearful takeover
Yet those are illusions, as the mind in the singularity
Is pulled to and fro with possibilities
Has the recordings been watched?
Was that a surprise to her as well?
A chance to see the reality,
Perhaps more or less
The gooey warmth of shpongle
In Technicolor drapes the brain
Lets have merriment
Under that blue tentacles face
Steer it right, whether wishes are granted or unsolved
The fingers grip the wheel in relief
Whatever else, under that maddened face
In spirit or in proximity
The wondrous dance ahead
Let the universe coy,
Inhale this revelry.