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Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

frayed strings + long ago and far away + 2 collages

Wednesday, November 15th, 2017

Frayed Strings

The soundtrack without sound
in a movie never made

The apple of the paring
for the pie that wasn’t baked

The scratch of itch not coming
after sneeze aborts in air

The weight of daily drubbing
knowing fair is never fair

Final stride at end of day
which began with one at dawn

The learning from your “betters”
that you’re not even pawn

Looking in the morning mirror
hoping not to see an ass

The pocket ever empty
weighing wallet’s minus mass
– Smith, 11.15.2017

Have a poem published yesterday on John Grochalski’s WINEDRUNK SIDEWALK: SHIPWRECKED IN TRUMPLAND — https://winedrunksidewalk.blogspot.com/2017/11/day-two-hundred-and-ninety-nine.html

 

bone hole

Monday, November 13th, 2017

Bone Hole

You have a house,

its floor may be dirt, wood,
tile, concrete, glass, or higher class,

and if there are walls
they may be solid
may be holey

your might-be roof
or might-not-be roof
may work
may drip
or leak light

and there’s too much to do
too many knot-wads

so you start on locks,
and windows, and rugs,
and furniture, and mortgages,
and driveways

yet you don’t know the neighbors,
can’t nip your own nubs
as you run to not fall
hopimg future’s failure annulls

you can make it better
you can make it worse
the glory’s yours, so’s the curse

– Smith, 11.13.2017

 

dead daddy Doubt

Thursday, November 9th, 2017

Sisyphus at the Psychiatrist

So many rocks to rock and roll
there’s the rent rock
the car rock
the food rock
the cut and fix the flesh rock
the skin color rock
the bully rock
the cock rock
talk rot
mock rock
race rock
and of course the ought not rock
so I wake at night,
cry for missing mommy Entropy
and dead daddy Doubt,
mess my bed with wet of sweat
from cultural courted stress
more or less moralless,
and rage at rock
as I false
rekindle hope of besting slope.

– Smith, 11.9.2017

 

conversaling

Tuesday, November 7th, 2017

Conversation with Wife 39

Wife comes in looking for scissors and twine.
What are you searching for?
“I need to truss the bird.”
You can’t trust birds, they’re foul.

What’s the controversy with Porgy & Bess?
“It’s seen as white guy condescendence.”
Is that where dew collects on flowers?
“No, that’s condensation.”
Like a person becoming famous?
“That’s sensation.”
Oh, original sensation! The Garden of Eden!
“You never stop, do you?”

– Smith, 11.7.2017

 

leap sleep to sleep without the weep of wake

Saturday, November 4th, 2017

Status Report 260

Goals?
I got goals:

Wake, get through day,
make it to tomorrow

Without too much sorrow
to myself, earth, or others.

Once walked for fame,
worshipped fortune,

Now simply thankful I’m not lame
or hardened.

Though am sad and weary,
cynica,l leery,

Yearn to leap sleep to sleep
without the weep of wake.

But there’s a silver lightning,
I keep wife’s stress from tightening,

And hold her when she wobbles,
am her favorite bauble.

– Smith, 11.4.2017

 

surplus meat

Wednesday, November 1st, 2017

I have 10 fotos, 9 poems, 1 song featured on Medusa’s Kitchen. As always, publisher/editor Kathy Kieth’s magic eye layout makes my happy/mad submission flow better than it should.

This is my 23rd monthly feature on Medusa… appreciate the gig.

https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2017/10/blues-in-my-pockets.html

~

Sisyphus Security

There’s rock,
there’s hill,
there’s knowing what to do.

But rocks can break,
hills wear away,
and knowing’s site specific.

So I could lose my gig,
have no place to go,
no rock, no hill, no roll.

Got no retirement fund,
no fallback plan,
no rescue from the mud.

Heading up to Big Box Store,
apply as a greeter
to remain an eater.

So sayeth me,
surplus meat
in this land of sharpened teeth.

– Smith, 11.1.2017

 

black cat koan

Thursday, October 26th, 2017

Black Cat Koan

The cat circles in,
around,
lays down.

Looks at me
with languid eyes,
sighs.

Sleeps to dream
food love scheme
purrfection.

To her we be
serving slaving feeding playing giving
petting cleaning station

(and oft
soft source of heat).

Neat replete cool cat suite.

– Smith, 10.26.2017

 

here and down the road

Wednesday, October 25th, 2017

Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc

The lie
“After this, therefore because of this”
is true

cuz treadmill don’t stop
stomach don’t quit
rent don’t go away

no winner’s circle
no golden ring

and the view down the road
looks to be a bad disaster movie
with its tacky tawdry
unfun unfair
one more Zen joke on folk

so it’s down to mirrors and moments:

who do you see in the mirror in the morning
when you hold your moments close?

 – Smith, 10.25.2017

 

checklist Sisyphus

Monday, October 23rd, 2017

Checklist Sisyphus

Coffee’s got a bit of kick to it
this pre-sunrise
so there’s hope in the gloom

Pain’s not as sharp as it was
as I compare today’s rock
to today’s hill

Have some stuff
lost lots more
along the way

Comes down to friends
family
pets

Mixed with sun, wind, rain, clouds,
sky, now, then, when,
why

And pain
of course
and pain

But stringing it all together
is the smile
getting us through this darkness

And the laugh
of course
leaking between the seem

– Smith, 10.23.2017

 

the lady & the doors van morrison

Sunday, October 22nd, 2017

When I walk, my right arm thumps against my side, large, hard, like a massive weight lifter’s appendage, but this hard and heavy isn’t from exercise but rather swollen flesh protesting the knives and saws and pryings screwings bruisings of my second shoulder replacement.

Major change in pain pill philosophy. My two days in the hospital they gave me three 5 mg oxycodone pills every 4 hours, sometimes tossing in an injection of dilaudid as well. So one day in hospital was 24 pills. They released me with a prescription for one pill every six hours, or 4 pills per day. Fortunately this time it’s all low level pain, so I can manage. Bit hypocritical of them though.

~

Conversation with Wife 38

“Is penultimate the power of the pen?”
she ponders.

“Our salad was good,
the goat cheese, red onions and apples had synergy.”
Original synergy?

What’s choux?
“I think it’s an eggy dough.”
Didn’t Eggy Dough record with Iggy Pop?

“OK, you know what…” she starts.
I used to know What,
I dated his daughter, young Why.
She was a handful.

“What are we going to do about these hurricanes?”
Change the name to himicanes, let em go impotant.

“You know who drove the Doors? – Van Morrison.”

Where’d the fun go?
“Down the funnel.”

 – Smith, 10.22.2017

 

 
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