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...and they lived happily ever after. Smith & Lady: poets, artists, photographers & adventurers.
Our relationship was forged to the soundtrack of Yoko Ono's magic,
frenetic, love-laden song, "Walking On Thin Ice." ( play song )
 
   
 
 

Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category

to relieve, one must 1st leave

Tuesday, August 23rd, 2016

blowingsmokeblowing smoke

Minimal List

To relieve, one must first leave

I started out as a prophet
but turned into a loss

We know never enough till too far gone

It’s Taser Nation over all
with liberty and justice revocable

Sentient meat meeting scent of rent

In movies there’s always
a full moon, instant parking, and no horseshit

For sum why I’m still working lie

“Myself am hell” says Satan to the sheep
as he dons his best worsted

Owling at the moon

We have big at our fingers
do so little with it

Don’t judge out loud in print or crowd

Are we many or one? Or none?
I step in truth and scrape it off my shoe

System rigged rotten from top trickle down bottom

This is not an issue
as they say in the magazine trade

I’m a blues singer in a synth band

The man who had the first penis transplant,
did that make his wife an adulteress?

Use natural ass gas, harness the farts

Red White & Boom or read write & bloom?
fix the system, don’t blame the symptoms

Raise sin to sensation, peel feel from ground

One must fight atomic weapons, death rays
and machine mind

Don’t beat a dead hearse

End quote from a dying computer:
All men go to good earth in one eternal silent night

I know I are but what am you?

– Smith, 8.23.2016

gasiscutgas is cut

 

plop Plop PLOp PLOP

Wednesday, January 27th, 2016

spiritlady

Conversation with Wife 21

“You’re going to eat aren’t you?”
Yes.
“When?”
After you go to bed.
“What?”
I don’t know, cold cereal, oatmeal maybe.
“Oatmeal’s good for you, firms your bowels.”
Oh I love bowels
especially church bowels when they play
plop Plop PLOp PLOP plop Plop PLOp PLOP
POOp POOP Poop poop plop PLOp Plop plop

– Smith, 1.27.2016

lipsmacker

 

parachute Buddha

Tuesday, January 19th, 2016

opencallu

Status Report 162

I’m a stand up kind of guy.

What do get when you grow two shoots?
A pairashoot.

Why do they call it a freeway
when it costs so much to drive?

If a nickle is composed of 25% nickle
how much dime is in a dime?

Is Sisyphus a sissy for not putting up a fuss?

Who is Caspar the Friendly Ghost’s spirit leader?
Booodha.

Too much violins in country music
not enough sax.

What did the dishonest bamboo do?
Bamboozled.

Is a chamomile longer than a human mile?

Why call it a highway
when they won’t let you drive stoned?

What condition is the alcoholic bamboo in?
Bamboozed.

Is the Salton Sea near the Pepperoff Sea?

What city tokes the most marijuana?
Tokyo.

I’d walk a chamomile for a camel
wearing a camouflaged camisole

Is this a cluster flux?

– Smith, 1.19.2016

openwifi

 

I hear my bone break

Thursday, January 14th, 2016

category01

Another Smith adventure one wouldn’t wish to have . . . broken kneecap, wrong bus, closed bus stops, walking downtown in leg cast seeking phantom bus, pain increasing, script for pain pills in pocket but no way to get to pharmacy.

But first, an ego commercial.

Medusa’s Kitchen (what a cool name) published 6 fotos and 8 poems of mine yesterday. Once again I’m impressed by Kathy Kieth’s marvelous feel for layout. Poet D.R. Wagner snuck me into the Kitchen last fall, and this is the 3rd time Kathy Kieth’s published me since. May this relationship continue — Medusa’s Kitchen >
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/01/twixt-ape-and-angel.html

I touched the surface of my own leg bone when I was ten (see below), and now 60 years later I hear my kneecap break.

Taking my bicycle down to the basement yesterday, the front tire turned sideways when it reached the floor and jerked to a stop while this jerk kept going and landed left knee on concrete floor. Heard a crisp, sharp CRACK and thought gee that doesn’t sound encouraging, but got up, walked around, everything seemed to work though it did hurt. Spent next few hours trying to ignore what that CRACK had to mean, hoping the famous Smith luck would save me yet again, but knee got bigger and bigger until this morning I went to the ExpressCare. That’s the second time I’ve broken myself one day and waited till the next to go to the doctor. Last time was 1985 when I broke both wrists and elbows doing an art installation – you should have seen me driving myself to the hospital next morning with double breaks in both arms — turning corners and parking were pure hell. Within the week had to change a flat tire in the rain with broken appendages while the car jack kept sinking into the mud – took so long and hurt so bad I broke out laughing at how well the gods got me.

Broke my patella (knee cap). They immobilized my left knee with a cast on which I hobbled three blocks to a bus stop and got on the wrong bus. Got off, found right bus to downtown to catch another bus home. But downtown is all torn up to fix stuff before the Republicans get here for their Presidential convention next year, so I hobbled on my broken knee a couple blocks only to see sign saying “This bus stop was closed 10 months ago due to construction, you idiot.” Wishing I had the crutches waiting at home, I cane my pain leg another two block to where I know my home bus stops, only to find it no longer goes anywhere near there. I’m starting to think I’m in one of those Twilight Zone hell shows, in increasing pain, aware I have a prescription for codeine in my pocket but no way to get to the pharmacy until wife comes home from work hours from now. I walk another two blocks to where the taxis wait, but due to construction, they’re no longer there. Walk more and more and more on broken knee, finally find cab, friendly Algerian driver gets me home for 5 times what my bus costs, but at least I’m home.

Find out more when I go to the doctor Tuesday when they suck some of the swollen blood and juices out with a needle. Internet says six weeks in cast, though some replace the cast with a brace after 2-3 weeks to get rehab started sooner. The bad news is I only went out in the 17 degree cold to buy a billion dollar Powerball lottery ticket, and I got but one number right.

So far have broken at least eight ribs, right hand, right wrist, left wrist, right elbow, left elbow, collar bone, big toe, left knee, and cracked my pelvis . . . there are likely more I’ve forgotten.

As for the time I touched my exposed shin bone 60 years ago — from the memoir:

My biggest and best scar is the six inch curve below my right knee. I ran and jumped a block wall and crashed leg first into the top edge of a second hidden block wall. I got up and had trouble walking, so I sat down and pulled my pants leg up to take a look. My flesh had separated into a six inch open bloodless “V” all the way down to bone. The exposed tibia was pure incredible glowing whiteness in the sun. I was so fascinated that I touched it. I touched my own living skeleton bone with my finger flesh. It felt cool, hard, slick.

eyecircles

 

u kant get there from here, really

Sunday, January 3rd, 2016

greenmoney

You Kant Get There From Here

I used to date three sisters, Snap, Happy, and Pop.
We had a crackling good time.

Simple is complex, easy is hard.

Any time travelers out there,
I’ve got last year’s calendars for sale.

I’m holding out for 2021, a year you can count on.

I used to have a brother and a citrus
but he died and she turned out to be a lemon.

Things change, which changes things.

– Smith, 1.3.2016

emplunk

 

still petaling on

Sunday, December 20th, 2015

nebulous

Status Report 143

Isn’t Lactations a book in the Old Testicle?

I’m so out of it I thought black Friday
was the character in “Robinson Crusoe.”

What do you call inferior parsnips? – Subpar snips

Went to buy a new penis, but didn’t know whether
to look in the hardware department or software section.

I like to read Rumi with a view.

How come it’s always peacocks and never poococks?
Cuz cocks pee, don’t poo.

Are you on drugs? – No, just marijuana.

I may have lost most of my feathers
but I’m still petaling on.

Rulers are meant to be broken.

Looking for the light
is like the mirror looking for its surface.

What country do bees come from? – The Polli Nation.

Of course I’m stoned
I’m the son of a stone mason.

– Smith, 12.20.2015

casecleaning2

 

full eye spider dog star sirius

Friday, November 6th, 2015

beesuitlady

I am my bee-suit Lady’s suitor

Conversation with Wife 15

The Old Testicle sez the eye is never full.

“What does that mean?”

It means one can never fill one’s full desires
because the eye can never be satisfied

“What’s your desire?

For a full eye.

“What’s full eye?”

There’s the small i, the capital I, the individual I, the 3rd eye,
red eye, private eye, eye of storm, and finally, full eye.

Speaking of which, spinning cellar spider inside out door
spidereyes me each time we leave, we need to name her.

“Okay, Mz Tittynipple.”

Ooooh, sounds veddy British, like watching Chewy, Drooly, & Gooey,
The Three Oozes, on TV back in the 1950’s.

“I don’t know how to answer your silly statements.”

They are not silly statements, these are serious inquiries,
Dog Star Sirius!

“Well I’m glad you’re so patient with me.”

What, are we playing Doctor?

– Smith, 11.6.2015

altworldlady

working on the green line

 

 

Abacus & Costello

Monday, November 2nd, 2015

beaterejecttor

But Seriously, Flux

Everything’s relative, especially relatives.

Every since they kicked us out of the Garden of Eden,
I’ve loved the Fall.

Do you know what Vitamin C becomes after eating?
Vitamin Saw.

DNA instruction say
before assembly, it is best to be two people.

I don’t believe in Utopia, I believe in MEtopia.

Why do algae wear brassieres?
Who knows, that’s why folks study algebra.

What’s H2O?
8 letters – H I J K L M N O.

Who’s a comedy team you can count on?
Abacus & Costello.

Can you spare some fair change, master?

– Smith, 11.2.2015

coffees

 

shoebooty bootshoey, that’s beware we’re at

Friday, September 11th, 2015

livefish

This ain’t too bad for a bad pun poem built on a pre-dawn pre-cup of coffee riff that fell out of my mouth before my wife’s stern unsmiling ears . . . didn’t crack a smile from her until my final Scoobie Doo.

Politics in America in the Age of Unreason

Shoebooty is when one wears

a shoe on their left foot and a boot on their right

Bootshoey is shoe on right, boot on left

The two camps fight all the day and all the night
over whether right’s left or left’s right

In end seam the left felt right and right fell wrong
at least so far that’s been my song or so it seems

Left … left … left .. left …
I left my wife and 49 kids in starving condition
without any gingerbread did I do right
right … right … right …
right by my country hip by jingo
first they hire me then they fire me
that’s when I left … left… left …

and round around we go
Curly Larry and Mostly Moe
every four years we do it again
getting down in unoriginal sin
cept it’s getting worse
cuz the right ain’t right and they run on wrong
while the left’s left with their insane song
and they’re all awaiting the coming hearse
while on the public they’re both a curse

which is why I wear both feet bare
so no wrong right left to heft life’s unneat defeat

Shoe be do shoe be don’t
I’m only gonna walk with the honorable folk
cuz showboats don’t float my moat

(which leaves out all Republicscams
and most Demoncraps)

Sorry folks but that’s beware it’s at

Scooby doobie oo shoo be doo be
shoo be doo be doo da day
zip a dee doo dah zip a dee ay
strangers in the right wrong their way

– Smith, 9.11.2015

thesaints

 

snake fed baptists

Saturday, May 16th, 2015

There’s an open poetry reading tomorrow Sunday
at
Rooms To Let
art installation
2 pm
3810 E. 71 St., Cleveland, OHIO
hosted by Smith & Lady in the Chiplis Neon Repoetry room
or elsewhere outside, depending on weather and attendance
no sign up, just read if and when you feel
bring you own chair or sit or stand
Nepalese poet Yuyu Sharma will be part of open mic

Rooms to Let art installation FaceBook page

~ ~ ~

conversation with wife 13

snake fed baptists only go out with them snake-charmin’ wimmins. they don’t go out with no cathlicks. cathlicks and baptists don’t mix. least not snake fed baptists. they’re stern folk. no music, no books. no learning. jes yearning fer something under wrap. them snake-fed baptists do stuff behind yer back. sometimes dance. sometimes sing. that’s how they get through the night. them snake-fed baptists are also real skinny folk. snake don’t fill you out.
there, i said it.

– Smith & Lady, 5.16.2015

~ ~ ~

I get such pleasure from solving the JUMBLE puzzle in the morning paper because it tasks my mind and there’s a thrill when I solve it, and it makes me wonder what satisfaction cheaters like Tom Brady, Lance Armstrong, Barry Bonds, Sammy Sosa, Mark McGuire, Jose Canseco, Andy Pettitte, Manny Ramirez, A-Rod, Roger Clemens, Jim Thome, Fox News talking heads, and most every CEO, policeman, and politician there is get from cheating . . . how can one feel accomplishment when one did not accomplish? I know cheating made them rich, but it’s tainted money. How do they sleep at night, how do they look in the mirror each morning, what satisfaction can they derive from folk looking up to their false godness? Especially odd is David Justice’s cheating, considering his last name and all, perhaps we should rename his David Injustice. Seems cheating is a prerequisite skill in sports, politics, policing, religion, and the corporate world.

 

 
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