High Noon
Not to jest
but many more so
years ago
out west
in a troubled town
I drew down
and had to reach my best.
I looked within
and saw such thin
dark dank dim
but said so what
it’s just a shuck
I will not fail this test
and went for luck
or mess
in win.
— Smith, 6.30.2012
Telegram from Mother Earth
I swear by Azathoth,
Cthulhu, Nyarlathotep, Clothianidin,
Tsathoggua, Yog-Sothoth,
and Mi-Go, the Fungi from Yuggoth:
improve as human species
or we’ll flush your sorry feces
I tell you true
I ain’t no fool
It’s the carrot or the stick
— Smith, 6.29.2012
There’s an almost song here in this wisp of a will — it’s so low-key it’s almost non-existent.
Recorded it today; poem from 1965, chorus today –> Still Withers.
Still Withers
The tears come quickly to my eyes
as my heart cries, withers and dies
withers and dies, withers and dies
sorrowful sounds re-echoed replies
While I lie aloof within my room
downing in moody bleak boy tune
Soulful searching and one or two lies
bring sadly laden sorrow filled skies
and a heart that cries, withers and dies
blue’s bird tried by quibbles and lies
And I’m left alone aloof in my room
drearily drenched in bleak boy gloom
Wrapped in fame like tired fire flung
feebled flame forever undone
As black steals o’er the once proud sun
God stirs restless within her tomb
And I alone aloof in my room
drowning in direful bleak boy doom
Sorrowful sounds
Re-echoed replies
Withers and dies
Withers and dies
— Smith, 1965/2012
Music, mix recording Peter Ball of Apartment One; words, voice Smith.
Lots more Ball & Smith sound excursions at ReverbNation.com/MutantSmith.
Crisis Chronicles Press has chosen another of my fotos to cover a poetry chapbook: I Can Live with Death by David B. McCoy. This makes 11 front and 2 back cover fotos for CCP’s 28 publications.
Perfect foto for the title.
And speaking of life and death, per the doctrine of “dependent origination” or “dependent arising” (via Lady via Wikipedia via Buddha):
The Twelve Nidanas
With Ignorance as condition, Mental Formations arise
With Mental Formations as condition, Consciousness arises
With Consciousness as condition, Mind and Matter arise
With Mind and Matter as condition, Sense Gates arise
With Sense Gates as condition, Contact arises
With Contact as condition, Feeling arises
With Feeling as condition, Craving arises
With Craving as condition, Clinging arises
With Clinging as condition, Becoming arises
With Becoming as a condition, Birth arises
With Birth as condition, Aging and Dying arise
Seems a long hard way to go, what with this all being built on an initial foundation of ignorance.
How did we get from 4 virtues + 3 graces to 7 sins?
To One Eye Love
I ‘n I
Seven sins:
envy
covetousness
greed
sloth
lust
anger
pride
Four virtues:
justice
prudence
temperance
fortitude
Three graces:
faith
hope
charity
The am my aim
The all my am
— Smith, 2004
Parts Unknown
Mangos and unknown parts
A delicious confection for spirit and soul
Not to mention flesh
In flesh I’m born in flesh I learn in flesh I live in flesh I love
Yet more in mind I mind eye mind
Her mind
And heart
There’s madness in my method
Method in my part
— Smith, 2006 for Lady K
The Heart as Arsonist
Sure the kindling,
but as well the wood.
The place as such
and substance
of the matter.
Time.
Amounts of time to flicker,
flame in bright arrogance,
become fuel to continuity,
faded maturation.
It is not wonder
yet is
why wolves, weres and lovers
lie dreaming before fires
fire places
emotions.
It is the melancholy
of the cycle calling.
Warmed atavisms
consumed in life
in love of rebirth.
The remembrance
of werewolves wanting wings.
All these
the core past caring
belonging
the fire is
is love.
The spark
to kindle the passion
then human the substance
to weather completion
this this is love.
— Smith, 1975
Promise Land
Greyhound bound
To Tupperware City
Light like liquid Zen
Wars time, tatters tight
As tight asses tie
Meat neat man to kine, kino
Contempt of course
Playing Plato’s barn
Blue bloods
Stabilize fish at 7
Mime the ma’am
Bamboo cathedrals
In wondrous disarray
Just outside real
Where the fat
Flee frantic
Fleece feed the poor
Competing EXIT signs
Dance specific disease
Rude crude
Plus tax
Bouncing Betty’s
Slouching Bethlehem belly
Slips on guilt
& splinters.
— Smith, 1995
Played Dr John’s 1968 tune “I Walk on Guilded Splinters” and remembered I’d lifted part of his title for the last three words of this poem — “guilt & splinters.”
And since I’m confessing, I borrowed “slouching Bethlehem belly” from William Butler Yeats’ 1919 poem The Second Coming which ends with “And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, / Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?”
Running from the Quantum Cop
It’s not out of the question
but definitely out of the equation
In this zombie walk I talk zombie talk
moan “miiiiinnnnnnnddddddsssss”
instead of “brraaaaaiiiiiinnnnnnnssss”
I crave good conversation
yet can’t offer it myself
Since aliens stole my brain
(which is a shame because hardly used
could have sold it for new)
I still have kind of mind
slowly learning being kind
to kine and cattle
as I prattle rock and roady rattle
in my battle with the be
We all stumble mall to mall
endless windowed mindless maul
plea and beckon for our call
Right now I’m in a ménage à trois
with me, myself, and I
it’s definitely a hate-love-hate relationship
As for some then
some when further down the load
some mixed matched maxed out mode
in real time I’m unable to table my ties
stable my lies
It’s what you do with what you got
that mothers or falters goal
Time to get back on track for the bright and early
— Smith, 6.23.2012
Chirp of nearby bird
Waterrush traffic of road
Outside inside sound
— Smith, 6.22.2012
Delia King, once of Cleveland now of Philadelphia, is doing a basketball court mural which includes the poem My Rock by Lady K. When it’s done, we’ll drive to Philadelphia and foto Lady next to her public poem. (12th and Cambria Playground basketball court has held city-wide championships for 20 years and sent many on to the NBA).
My Rock
Most people think of a rock as
something stationary on the ground.
There is a rock in me
that makes me go.
I was bewildered
by the mystery of my ambition.
That’s when I found this rock.
This rock won’t break up,
and it doesn’t respond
to my questions.
This rock just says
“I am a rock”
and it makes me go.
— Lady K, sometime between 2002 and 2004
Congratulations to both Delia and Lady.
