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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 May, 2014

RECOGNITION OF SOME KINDS OF THINGS

Thursday, May 22nd, 2014

RECOGNITION OF SOME KINDS OF THINGS

Time pulling process,
what we pass ourselves through,
how we pass through it,
convolution

Getting laden
with the pollen
of the moment

The antenna o’ my mind
and what’s allowed into it
and out of it

The ridges of its facets

Some easy, some harsh,
some jutting at crazy angles

I’m working on configuring that antenna,
hearing kindness, being and broadcasting it

Bhakti of good actions and invitations
my way
of demonstrating
intent,
my consolation

Crawling o’er my ridges with peace of mind,
forgiveness a kind
of healthy
self respect

The gift of each moment
if I remember
to open the present
and go with it

How interesting
reason a kind of compassion,
understanding
a kind of love

Or even
the kind of innocence that is
not
understanding, also

How we go around that labyrinth,
the conclusions we make

Kinds of angels
watch o’er me and
essences of the near
infuse me,
whate’er they are

~ Lady

 

Johnny GoodWave

Wednesday, May 21st, 2014

Johnny GoodWave

I am Mutant Smith, reality adjuster.
Lady says since I am an adjuster
I should make reality nicer for all.
Told her I’m trying,
but there’s so much out of whack
I can’t fix it all at once,
especially since I work better on local reality.
But the good news is
better adjusted small realities
accumulate into better bigger realities.
And I’m doing mind exercises
to increase my power
to emit good waves
to influence larger regions.
Once successful
I will roam reality emanating good waves,
and a hundred years down the road
when folk see me coming
they’ll shout “Here comes Johnny GoodWave”
and wave as I pass,
tossing small spliffs of appreciation,
and when I’ve done doing,
I’ll wave on,
reform waveform,
and return as Johnny MarijuanaSeed.

– Smith, 5.21.2014


Willie Nelson sees the light

 

To Bee Smoke or Be Smoker

Tuesday, May 20th, 2014

from Lady K ->
“Need good summer poems for thecitypoetry.com. Have lots of photos, but do need the poems. Ones to charm the season, poems to welcome & create a wonderful summer.”

Busy daze. Friday I turned a 15 foot dancing tree trunk into a one-face totem pole for Hooper’s Farm. Saturday we attended a bee conference at the fair grounds in the morning, and the 4th annual Blue Sky Folk Festival in Kirtland afterward, which had a fine line-up. Sunday Lady ran her second half marathon, 13.6 miles. We also worked on our community garden plot of tomatoes, herbs, milkweed, sunflowers.

To Bee Smoke or Be Smoker

When the beekeeper conference speaker
held up an antique bee smoker, I murmured,
“Wow, that’s a well-used smoker.”
“So are you,” my wife jokes.

Later they suggest beekeepers keep
a smoker fuel box close by to keep fuel dry
for the smoker smoking
and she continues,
“Yup, that’s you.”

Well, I do smoke,
certainly enjoy a buzz,
and am almost antique old,
so maybe next 420 conference
I can give my own talk on tokes,
rolling joints,
scoring dope,
cleaning pipes,
seeds and stems,
the ritual passing to left,
the chronic smell of kind,
and going for gold through Panama Red.

It could be my TED Toke.

*(TED ~ Technology, Entertainment and Design, 1984)

– Smith, 5.20.2014


 

IT WAS NOT THE FIRST TIME

Tuesday, May 20th, 2014

IT WAS NOT THE FIRST TIME

It was not the first time I collected myself to
slither off a leaf and splatter on another,
slather wetness on the ground

I remembered this
as I dreamt it in a flower,
my sluggish fuzzy exoskeleton clasped
in the closed blanket
of an overnighting flower

Sunrise illumined the petals,
opening them, tumbling warmth
into me, who awoke,
legs a moving jumble of
sudden awareness,
tossing myself
like a monk
rising from bed,
bumbling into activity

Back and back and back I remember
or have the idea of what it was like and now

I’m human
imagining the future
in a sea of ideas
about it

Conjuring it up

~ Lady

 

Back Bottom Blues

Monday, May 19th, 2014

psykologi

Back Bottom Blues

Think I’ll go down to the river bottom
see what’s washed up by the tide,
sniff and pinch and taste if nature,
pluck and poke and prise if man.

Or take a walk down back street alley
check on state of underground,
some new truths might be rising,
or major moral raising plan.

Best be some thing, some where, some soon
since much I see needs more light,
many corner cutting takers
getting kicks shortchanging am.

So I walk looking under ladders,
poke the trash to see what is,
got to be some right somewhere
if good ain’t just another scam.

– Smith, 5.19.2014


swirl

 

Too Jung to be a Freud

Sunday, May 18th, 2014

Sisyphus

Too Jung to be a Freud

Walking down the street
looking for the light
that’s going to help me cross
to the other side.

There is no other side,
it all just bits within,
the staying and the going
another name for when.

So the chicken in the road
and the chicken bun ‘n bin
different ways of losing
depending which one wins.

There is no road to ramble,
for crossing look to in,
a journey worth the gamble
to prove the myth of sin.

No sin in our beginning,
and we begin again at will,
serious in our pushing
forever rock up hill.

– Smith, 5.18.2014


Sisyphus

 

The Owl Poem

Saturday, May 17th, 2014

this installation, 1-6pm today, Slavic Village

Today from 1 to 6pm in Slavic Village Cleveland Ohio over 30 artists have done installations in foreclosed houses. The houses will be torn down afterward.

For a sneak preview of one of the house installations in progress, click here for agentofchaos.com/chiplis/.

The house in these fotos features Jeffry Chiplis, Scott Pickering, Dave Cintron, Alane Potokar-Sandoval, Tony Yanik, Sean Kelly, Bob Aufuldish, Jil & Steve Interhill, and Loren Naji.

Stop by 6628 Sebert Ave Saturday May 17th from 1-6pm for a map of the activities.

There will be yard & porch concerts, local food, historic church tours, good company, interactive art for all ages, bike & street parking available, FREE & open to public.

We are going to miss it because this morning is out to the fairgrounds for a bee fest, then the rest of the day in Kirtland for the 4th annual Blue Sky Folk Festival. Much to do in Cleveland these days.

Here’s my daily poem #229 . . . started writing and posting a poem a day October 1, 2013, and the process seems to be slowing considerable, could be in the later stages. Been an interesting process. Gotten a lot of so-so poems, but also some truly special ones that would have been unwritten if not for forcing a daily attempt.

The Owl Poem

Who’s walkin’ who?
Who’s talkin’ true?

Who’s doin’ what?
Who’s checkin’ fact?

What is up with that?
Who’s in charge of act?

Where we go from here?
Why we live in so much fear?

When we gonna quit?
What we gonna do about it?

Why the words roll round the page?
When we gonna act our age?

– Smith, 5.17.2014


 

Cyclemore Tree

Friday, May 16th, 2014

Cyclemore Tree

Hello I meant to say I see
new little balls on the testicle tree.

The old balls are being pushed out,
guess they’re losing their clout.

New leaves growing fast,
popping at long last.

Sucking up sun and rain,
forgetting winter’s bane.

Soon too muggy and way too hot
but good by bad is often brought.

Shiver through cold, wilt in heat,
such I’m told is the life of meat.

– Smith, 5.16.2014

 

Froth ‘n Fro

Thursday, May 15th, 2014

unpicked 5-leaf & 4-leaf clover found by Lady

Froth ‘n Fro

It’s raining yellowgreen flower petals.

Raindrops hit new leaf blossoms,
knocks them to the ground
where they lie like green foam
outlining the sudden puddles,
Ma Nature’s froth ‘n fro.

They fall with gentle motion,
prettypattern everywhere
celebrate the heart
and art the air.

– Smith, 5.15.2014


6-lip tulip

 

Skyslice Outside 3rd Floor Window

Wednesday, May 14th, 2014

sunrise – I know poem is sunset, but same window & trees

Skyslice Outside 3rd Floor Window

New small leaves bounce in wind,
sinking sun liquid licks green in passing,
evening gold gilds trunk till branch bark glows,
bluegray pewter of sky leaking through
the wind water rustle of leaves
doing their land jive,
a grand hive of might in motion
as notion fades,
sun sets,
gild goes,
wind wilts,
is becomes was
and new be’s be
until tomorrow’s do again.

– Smith, 5.14.2014


different tree entirely

 

 
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