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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,
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Archive for the ‘Politics’ Category

soiled linen

Sunday, March 12th, 2017

In the Crapper

Sittin’ thinkin’
the bathroom stinkin’
almost as bad as the Trump White House

– Smith, 3.12.2017


Sad… bigly bigly sad

Thursday, March 9th, 2017

Trump on a stick

This sculpture by Tim Joyce looks a bit like Trump… of course the face would have to be fatter, the hair faker, the eyes beadier, the skin more fake orange if you wanted better verisimilitude.

Chief Small Hands Man

Tried to sell these honorifics
to Little Donnie Chump, but no go:


Sad… bigly bigly sad.

– Smith, 3.9.2017


Six Naughts in Search of Nothing

Saturday, January 21st, 2017


New & used Smith – 9 poems, 9 images, 1 song – on Medusa’s Kitchen yesterday:

Good day for my poetry, bad day for the country.

Six Naughts in Search of Nothing

1. In this Factless World

Trump trumps decency
Trump trumps honor
Trump trumps truth
Trump trumps trust
Trump trumps fairness
Trump trumps respect
Trump trumps good
Trump trumps facts

Bad-trump Trump
Sleazy-trump Trump
Degenerate-trump Trump

Maybe if we find enough toilet paper
and flush a lot
we can trump Trump
2. For Little Donnie Chump

Out of the deep freeze
comes the cheap cheese

Our Degenerate-in-Chief
the Small Hands Man

Racist to racist
perv to perv

The degenerate cannot save us
cuz he’s even worse

A small-handed sexist
with no learning curve
3. Punchline

To everyone who helped
elect the small-hands-man,
especially Hillary Clinton
who cheated Bernie Sanders
out of the nomination –
you broke it, you bought it…

Hope there’s enough toilet paper
to clean up the mess.
4. FBI

I once said
FBI is lie misspelled

Turns out fib and lie and FBI
are synonyms
5. Slimefield

What would I say
if our Degenerate-in-Chief died in office?

Who took out the trash?
6. Today an accused child rapist,
admitted sexual predator, serial liar, thief,
tax cheat, braggart, bully
and just in general sticky spot on the floor
you don’t want to examine too closely
became 45th President of the US,
installing perhaps the worst batch of bad men
ever to loiter at the top of our food chain.

May karma flux his flow
bring light to he and his closely encrusted.

– Smith, 1.20.2017



the small hands man

Friday, December 9th, 2016

white people

Mr & Mrs Sisyphus

Wife sick on couch
brought on by stress
of over work and money worries

The daily rolling
of the worry rock
up our uncivilized hill

In this country
we eat our own
after we eat everyone else

But don’t worry
every sale comes with
a conditional warranty

Nothing will break
until you get it home
and through your front door

Break two
get third break free
for thrice initial cost

All ingredients
guaranteed toxic
shoddy, bad for the body

Step right up
get your new uselessness here
no need to wait

Small initial payments
which will rapidly bloom
bigger than your eyes, head, or check

There’s a trump for every chump
small hands optional
truth not included

– Smith, 12.9.2016

Donny Chump, the small hands man


Donald Trump’s brain

Saturday, June 25th, 2016

donaldtrumpsbrainDonald Trump’s brain

I’m extremely happy with the 9 poems, 8 fotos and 1 song of mine that Medusa’s Kitchen posted this month. This is my 7th consecutive monthly feature in Kathy Kieth’s Kitchen, and I couldn’t be happier, especially since it appears to be a continuing gig.

The song is an example of werewolf rock – a lot of exuberant howls, growls, groans, moans.

A Few Scots Insult Donald Trump

You tit.

You spoon.

You moron.

You numpty.

You utter fool.

Oi, buttplug face.

You ignorant fuckmuppet.

You polyester cockwomble.

Ya hamster heedit bampot.

You weaselheaded fucknugget.

You mangled apricot hellbeast.

You witless fucking cocksplat!

You cock juggling thundercunt!

You incomprehensible jizztrumpet.

You leather faced, shit-tobogganist.

You tiny fingered, Cheeto-faced, ferret wearing shitgibbon.

– Smith, 6.24.2016

fordonaldtrumpfor Donald


lusty prosties at their groins

Sunday, October 4th, 2015


Status Report 94

Politicians lie for money
lie for fame
kill constituents to get in the game

it ain’t funny
but they’re whores for greed
need more green and silver coin
and lusty prosties at their groins

and they don’t care who bleeds
or pleads


politicians murder and steal
give em money they let you kill
their free lunch paid by your back

what a bunch of slack tacky lack
some would say since they’re killing us
self defense would be a plus

toss em in a room without food or water
and let em eat each other

then display their bones
to scare their clones
into leaving us and lies alone

Get them to listen, or ask them to leave

– Smith, 10.4.2015

Lady sez this pome ain’t positive. I disagree. CEO’s and their house slaves the politicians are killing us, this country, the environment, the planet, its plants, its animals.

Self defense demands we stop them through education and enlightenment, or else jail if they won’t listen, or finally, if nothing else works, by blood in the streets . . . whatever it takes to turn them around.

If we don’t, the planet dies . . . and we ain’t got no place to go.

The fact is, we outnumber them. Our rights way outweigh theirs. Their choice is listen or leave.

capitalismCapitalism – eats its young, its old, its in-betweens


shoebooty bootshoey, that’s beware we’re at

Friday, September 11th, 2015


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



Smith & Lady Poems March 2015 – #16

Monday, March 16th, 2015


Laying flowers side by side on the table
to array the palette of a bouquet, my jackleg fingers
in this matter remembering the words of
Thich Nhat Hanh, “leave space in
between things.”

Looking towards learning skillful compositions,
juxtapositions of color and shape and mood, so many
ways to make and discover frontiers

Which reminds me of you–how you
would have every day novel, a zany birthday party
on a dance floor platform for whirling happiness, your
camera curiosity seeking out photos like the world
is full of easter eggs, and it is

Yet sometimes the spicy lightning
of your attention’s like you’re zapping barbed xrays
of unjust situations with moralizing words–promising
them their comeuppance

Condemnation of entire domains
heuristically earned yet with wild daisies of grace
sprouting exceptions to the rules and you smile with
surprise like the cheer of holding my hand and running
through a sprinkler

I’m growing a whole bunch of exceptions for you,
a lawn, a street, a town, a county, a country, the world–
I’m gathering them and the other flowers
for the fiesta of our lives

~ Lady




Tuesday, June 17th, 2014


Like a concerned neighbor,
peace pounds at the door
of Representatives,
the Senators,
the President

Peace demands to be let in

Peace does the hard work,
picking toys up off the floor
wiping faces like a parent
figuring stuff out like
the engineering
behind diplomacy,
soothes tantrum tattle

Peace is strong,
strong as the Universe

It’s a stress reliever,
peace flying outwards forever like breath,
like surf, frontier of trumpets
and drums, celebrations
and flying angels

~ Lady



Thursday, October 10th, 2013


I tell myself

Pretend you are a limp noodle
or something just sated & sitting
or even gently walking
gently running

Take that knot that’s occupied your mind
and push it away when it gets too tight

That puzzle that you like to work on–
don’t get strung up in it

Take that hairy thing and behold it
in your mind’s hands and lap

Settle for the math of wholeness,
parse the fractions out of the fur,
brush the burrs from the Pomeranian

It’s OK to throw out the burrs
I know you like to think about
everything from start to finish
to start

The life cycle of matter and ideas

But for groundedness’s sake, just
let it loose sometimes

It’s alright!
Say uncle

Even let the Pomeranians
run loose with all the burrs
they can find

Other people are dealing
with the issues

Just relax!

Take your time
sip and sup
sleep, unwind
let stress go
relax the center
of the universe

~ Lady


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