Symptom of the Universe
Pulled over
On a Friday night
By the dreaded police
In a 1978 Monte Carlo
With a punched ignition
A missing trunk lock
And the ghost
Of Timothy Leary
Sliding out the back
Of my cranium.
Do you know why
I stopped you?
Said the sadist
With predatory eyes
To the rolling bust
With fully dilated pupils
Don’t let him inside your mind
If this asshole wants psychic
Warfare with you then so be it
Then faster than
You can say
Lysergic acid diethylamide
He grinned and spoke
I remember being your age…
As he handed me back
My sanity
He told me to enjoy
The rest of my evening
Like the antelope
Running blind
Under the blazing sun
Of the Serengeti
Sometimes
You just get lucky
David Burdett
12/5/2021
Hot tramp, polite Canadians, indigestion of a comet, and beating the Devil.
Sucked up into his mind, episode 28 rolls in with a quote by David Bowie, and then into a trio of talent not to be missed. LARGE leads the show, into the area of a man, and a deal in Vegas with the fellow below wraps the day. Grab your coffee, and stay a few.
Here's the link to Prose. Radio:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aV62yeSdsLg
And here are the pieces featured.
https://www.theprose.com/post/813671/beyond-remembering
https://www.theprose.com/post/813712/when-is-the-art
https://www.theprose.com/post/813613/the-deal
And.
As always...
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
Cities in Dust, Burning Lead, Appalachian Flowers, Passover dinner, Sick Boy, and A call from home.
Putski wraps the show today with a beautiful poem led by three other brightly burning fires from the halls of Prose. Saturday meant good music, coffee, and these poems from these giants. Thank you, each of you.
Here's the link to number 27 on Prose. Radio.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rOsrxkA7xlg
Here are the pieces featured.
https://www.theprose.com/post/813609/hot-lead https://www.theprose.com/post/813548/appalachian-flowers https://www.theprose.com/post/813611/passover-dinner
https://www.theprose.com/post/813531/sick-boy https://www.theprose.com/post/813252/a-call-from-home
And.
As always.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
Pusherman, taps on the steering wheel, mountain justice, and a primitive gnaw.
In case anyone has a case of the Mondays, on the show today, in number 26, Curtis Mayfield sings us into three reads by three vastly different talents with one vast thing in common: Each one is their own creator with a style like no others. Top off your coffee, and sail away with us.
Here's the link.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mMz90tLIE5s
And here are the pieces featured within.
https://www.theprose.com/post/812076/memories https://www.theprose.com/post/811802/the-women-in-the-trees https://www.theprose.com/post/812519/the-line
And.
As always.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
Butthole Surfers, raditude, new sprouts, German flavors, and ghost of word.
From the work here on the site, thrown over to Prose. Radio's episode 25 on YouTube, Butthole Surfers lead us into a piece with sass, followed by sprouting words of grace, into one -then two- bits of German taste on the tongue, and wrapped by a grip of a ghost with grit.
Here's the link to the show.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZVZw1ZbauGQ
And here are the pieces featured.
https://www.theprose.com/post/811875/tonight-i-could-writeoh-dammit https://www.theprose.com/post/807048/glowing-and-growing-new-sprouts-at-night
https://www.theprose.com/post/812246/german-potato-salad https://www.theprose.com/post/812228/if-you-ate-a-proper-german-crumb-cake
https://www.theprose.com/post/811880/ghosts-of-word
And, as always.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
The Killing Moon, in rain, on hold, something for Belarus, and a wick ingnited in capture.
Episdode 24 weighs in with five featured pieces from five brutally talented writers. Led by Echo & The Bunnymen's famous song, these five bring their steel breath and beauty into whichever device you have for them...
Here's the link to the show.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FO84K-eB6zw
And here are the featured pieces.
https://www.theprose.com/post/810836/maine-in-the-rain https://www.theprose.com/post/811862/windowsill
https://www.theprose.com/post/811914/extra-hold https://www.theprose.com/post/811937/a-poem-for-the-burnt-out-belarusian-houses
https://www.theprose.com/post/811905/to-hold-a-candle
And.
As always.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
Pablo Neruda’s heart, god of Rusty James, history soup, Bob Ross paints, spins, and a fireside story.
In number 23, on Prose. Radio, Pablo Neruda sets the tone, and a wave of talent numbering 8 takes the wheel and drives us through some dark alleys, and some sun beaming through the window. RustyJames blends into the six to appear, each shining down in their own untouchable light, with Huckleberry_Hoo taking us into the firescape with something beautiful.
Here's the link to the show.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_LxQOO-4ROs
And here are the featured pieces.
https://www.theprose.com/post/811409/i-am-alone-there-is-no-god-where-i-am https://www.theprose.com/post/811326/simone
https://www.theprose.com/post/811410/sharing-history-soup-with-a-friend https://www.theprose.com/post/810851/bob-ross-paints-his-eden
https://www.theprose.com/post/811211 https://www.theprose.com/post/811248/on-the-road-by-myself
https://www.theprose.com/post/811317/the-24-spinz https://www.theprose.com/post/811208/two-stiffs-and-a-weirdo
https://www.theprose.com/post/811397/the-pooh-tutorials
And.
As always.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
Summer Flowers
Summer flowers, filled with the promise of tomorrow...
Born of the seeds of discarded yesterday.
I hold one close to me...,
The softness of it's petals reminds me of your touch...
It's delicate nature reminds me of your love...,
It's beauty of your heart.
Summer flowers, reflections of our dreams and hopes
Of our nights and days.
I place it on your hair, like a crown of olden days....
A symbol of not only of my love but of your beauty...,
Not only of my dreams but of the hopes you inspire.
Summer flowers, growing wild in the fields...
Dancing to the wind and calling our names.
I listen to their call knowing only
That they bring you closer when comes the dawn.....
Echoes
In echoes of thoughts,
I find,
a canvas of beauty,
vivid and kind,
within each word,
a landscape unfolds,
where memories of you,
forever hold.
Fields of flowers,
alive and in bloom,
colors dancing,
each one has it's hue.
The realm of words,
I linger in verses',
pain's memories ignite,
what time cannot rewrite.
Even in dreams,
all colors, words, sounds,
of beauty they scream,
yet your match never found.