Teenage Wildlife
Ian Fish, UK Heir | David Bowie

Ian Fish, UK Heir

by Rachel
Walking out of the deserted white building into a mystical and hidden
garden where no one has stepped for hundreds of years. Stone benches and
sculptures covered with weeds... Unkempt hedges blossoming into the sky.
The sounds of silence except for a distant harps. Wandering through this
world of bluebells, columbines, lupens, scattered sweet peas, clovers and
apple blossom trees. The trickling of water from a rusted stone mermaid.
Just floating over the lush flowers, going deeper and deeper into the
labyrinth of infinite wilderness... It is a sunny day, the white structure
far in the background. The gold arches of Greek Gods gaurding into the
distance. The scent of the small berries and moss and jasmine streaking the
sky. I wander endlessly looking for a clue to the lost powers of the
ancient world, before the winding vines of past wisteria.

(this poem is inspired by the song Ian Fish, UK Heir on Buddah of Surburbia. I wrote this whole poem while listening to that song. This imaginary place is derived from the gardens outside the Eastman House in Rochester, New York.)


David Bowie

by Rachel
Man of Power, Man of Beauty
Man of Awe, Man of Grace
The endless crooning beyond compare. Visions of dancing in the universe,
spending a day in space. Speed of light zapping through the sky. Beautiful
fauna and ferns of a Rococo painting. The constant pattering of rain in a
garden, the thunder of spikes of icecycles peircing glass. The bubble bum
architecture of Las Vegas and the looming towers of London spinning before
your eyes. The horrific advancement to the end of the world. The exact
moment of being suspended upside down on a 200 foot rollar coaster. The
groanings of griffens and small creatures in magical lands. The grinding
power of the gun, a murdering sex machine. The John Travoltesque trend of a
pulsating beat. The pouring green punch on yellow striped plastic
bellbottoms. The pathetic moanings of Ramona, the arrogant violence of
Ziggy, the artful tactics of Chinagirl. The twirling of the fabrics of the
universe and raining of gold diamonds from the sky. A true genius, bursting
in the climax of life. The nuances of space. The man who sold the world
with wonderful songs of all shapes, sizes, colors and internsities.

(Here I am applying David's numerous styles to visions that pop in my head at the spur of the moment. I want to celerate the diversity of his musical genius.)


 

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This document last updated Saturday, 15-Apr-2000 15:37:42 EDT
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