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November 19, 2004
Uptown
This town's down. All its power in one hand left dangling toward the ground. Bunches of flowers like rockets in craw, we swoop down in broad strokes like darkness in the morning. Creating the feeling of having direction and growing the thoughts of make believing, this is our time. This is the moment to end all moments and give birth to forever. Sound system provokes light refractions that belie our eyes. A gift of rushing emotions battling themselves for attention makes wanting more than wishing. And I alone am wishing more than dreaming, but things change rapidly. Virtually being in a world of unknowing is like actually floating in a sea of change. The stream flows against the current leading all the streets to uptown.
Posted by Joe Sepi at 04:19 PM | Comments (0)
November 09, 2004
Sounds Aloud
Sounds around thinking aloud
Bunny ears on the head need adjusting to channel
Crushing blows fill sails to flow
Singing a song keeps us moving along
So much away so little today
Time to make a Not ToDo list
Better check that one twice
Life's a foot and your task is at hand
With baggage in tow you move a head
Arm yourself with teeth and tongue
...and begin to move around.
Use all your senses like sensei's.
Posted by Joe Sepi at 09:50 AM | Comments (0)
November 05, 2004
Wage
Sitting here lookin' out my window, thinking I should place a bet. The sun has not risen yet, today. Put it all down on the sun. And double-down on tomorrow's...just that it will show. It won this place over a long time ago. And it might be one more over that gets me by. Come on, come on ol' rise'n'shiner. We're in the homestretch now. Not one cent you rely on. The currency is now, and it is worth exactly that. Give me a pocketful of what I risk, if I should not be burned.
Posted by Jon Olmsted at 05:46 AM | Comments (0)
November 04, 2004
The Smalls
Why would our guy win? The minority must fight. This
is our roll. Our biscuit. This is our place. Our niche. Our quiche. I was not put here to ride the winner's
wave. Now I know what it's like. No white. I'm in with
the smalls. You, me. Lots of folks I know. Every other
color you thought you weren't. No more room. The giants
will crush their own hands. We'll spend time in a new find. Seeking harder, well rested from the past. Awake losers. It's us.
.
Posted by Jon Olmsted at 09:33 AM | Comments (1)
Medium-sized Unfunnies (J. Mac)
Try to be an easy person when hypocrites define morals. Go ahead, try. It's a series of medium-sized unfunny jokes. I want grandchildren who will not attempt to swallow this. I want the swallows to have children who are grand. It's not so much the loss, as it is the gain of more shuttered years of gloat-gilded smirks. Be prepared, friends. It's coming and now. And How.
Posted by Jon Olmsted at 09:26 AM | Comments (0)
November 02, 2004
breathless
Today a breath is held close like clutching
Tomorrow to exhale so sweet
Something to look to unknowing
But hope is laid at our feet
A thought of things to pass
A glance as they do
More will be made in History Class
We will learn again i'm sure
Me and you and me and you
Looking back and forward too
Posted by Joe Sepi at 03:53 PM | Comments (1)