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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 August, 2015

I ain’t no nihilist

Monday, August 31st, 2015


Status Report 68

Folks don’t live long these days
I’m more into the Biblical lengths of the Old Testicle
where they went six, seven, nine hundred years

or perhaps like honey bees live longer over winter
people lived longer then cuz it was early earth
and they needed to populate it real quick
so they could get to the condo section
cuz condos, calling cards and cell fones are what it’s about

and brothels, many many brothels
for any consensual gender skin dogma transactual desired
however acquired

and a lot of malls
deadly soul sucking greed spawning spirit killers

and stuff of course, transportation for stuff
stuff storage, stuff disposals
you know, stuff like that

and sexism racism greedism meism
not-youism classism isn’tism nihilism

now we’re cooking
ahhhhh, civilization, gimme a double dose

– Smith, 8.31.2015

I ain’t no nihilist, just think folk could be nicer than they are – nicer to each other, nicer to themselves, nicer to the earth.



was was never was

Sunday, August 30th, 2015


Status Report 67

Was was never was.
Is is never is.
It’s all individual imaging from individual’s p.o.v.
You got 2 humans you gots minimum 7 points of view.
History is merely the accepted lies the victors agreed on.
Revisionist history is the preferred lies we losers engage in.
History and truth ain’t even distant cousins.
Never were.
Never will be.
And that’s the truth.
(in as much as a lie can ever be the truth).

– Smith, 8.30.2015



Belly Beast

Saturday, August 29th, 2015


Male genitalia on the outside of the torso with the testicles hanging down between the legs is an extremely bad design. I mean what kind of engineer puts the tender scrotum in the very best place for the thighs to crush them like pee-nuts every time you close your legs? It’s like putting my nutack in my armpit and then firmly folding my arms. Think I’m going to make a small silk pouch with a long string to put my nuts in, then wear the string around my neck so when I sit, I can simply pull up on the string to adjust my testicles.

Not all that fond of the penis either. Or pooping, pissing, spitting, nasal slime, and the state of many minds.

A month before my musical half Peter Ball died last week, one of his musical collaborators — Billy Clarksville — asked me if I’d like to write lyrics to sing to some of his instrumentals. Strange how one door opens even before you’re aware the other has closed.

Here’s my 1st collaboration with Billy Clarksville (music, recording, mix), the latest sermonette from the Irreverend Smith, word and recitation — Belly Beast >>>

Belly Beast

There’s a walking bag on the telly
filled with talking meat
calorie counting down to defeat
repeat . . . repeat . . . repeat . . .

We return belly to button, button to beast
add some new jism, raise with old yeast
throw here for now, round then for there
wear where naked clothes on King hang bare
so belly in bold shows its sad sag sink
despite philosopher’s ink

Some say
return the belly to jolly of jelly
to rose when ready when ruddy on rise
better we sit and turn to the telly
than sally forth for destruction of lies

We sink in eat and weight of gain
play hunter gatherer game
where if it moves, kill it to eat
else if green grown, cook it with meat
we eat the trees, we eat the land
we eat ourselves out of hand

Our bellies bloat and gloat at glands
we roam like locusts over sand
we eat the air, we eat the seas
we beat the land until it bleeds

You know it ain’tt too wise to this way bow
cuz Mother Earth new path will plow
food will shrink, water unwet
unnatural flow will be upset
so we can help – or – eat and go
flame out fast, live day slow

Calorie accounting courting feet
or fast-talking minced-meat sweet jelly weep?

It’s out there, gonna happen
we can help, we can hurt
sit and yelp, or get to work

– Smith, 8.29.2015



Peter Ball R.I.P 1949-2015

Friday, August 28th, 2015


Peter Ball

Peter Ball R.I.P.

Today is the memorial gathering for Peter Ball (1949-2015) who died on Saturday. You are welcome to join us to share memories of his life at 4pm today August 28, at Judson Manor, 1890 E 107th, Cleveland, in the Loegler Lounge, (216) 791-2555.

I met Peter in the Warfarin mines beneath the Cleveland Warehouse District in 1982. I was serving time for bad taste, while Peter was the entertainment director. He needed a monkey to front his tin whistle band, I applied and got the job.

For 20 years he tried to get me to record with him and finally in 2002 I agreed. Took me 6 months to get loose enough to make a fool of myself and start making maybe 200 odd recordings that don’t sound like anything else. Peter made all the music and handled recording and mixing while I wrote the words and did vocals, though I more growl groan grunt than sing — sort of werewolf roll.

His recording me changed my reading style once I heard how boring I sounded, and I wrote a lot more poems to jam with him, so I owe him for that. Plus Peter’s voracious and eclectic reading habits combined with his amazing memory made for 33 years of fascinating conversations, and I met quite an interesting stream of odd characters over the decades with him.

Last time we talked was the day before he died, we agreed to get together this week to jam. Guess I’ll have to sue him for breach of schedule.

Again odd — When he had his stroke July last year, we had jammed the day before, and as I left he mentioned how good or lucky we’d gotten the past 2 years with our songs. We’ve had six jams since he got out of physical rehab in December, and 4 of them are online. Somehow I thought he’d always be a 2 mile bicycle ride away.

101 Ball & Smith songs can be heard and freely downloaded at, while 200 of Peter’s Apartment One song collaborations with me and dozens of other musicians and poets are at

Here’s my best song with him.

Strange . . . a month before Peter Ball died and ended our collaboration, Billy Clarksville of Billy Clarksville & the Sinsations (who has recorded off and on with Peter for decades) contacted me and asked if I’d write lyrics and attempt to sing on some of his instrumentals. One door closes, reality opens another.

Here’s Billy Clarksville’s website

Next few days I’ll post our 1st two unedited recording attempts, then post smoother edits when they’re done.



thick and slow and unquick

Wednesday, August 26th, 2015





Status Report 66

Sometimes night sticks
thick and slow and unquick
when you rise to deal with new day’s lies

but you gotta try

– Smith, 8.26.2015




into water worn as sky

Monday, August 24th, 2015


Status Report 65

Out on my in-laws back deck
falling yellow leaves
slo-mo spin down
onto sun shade dappled green.
Windchime tinkle feathers the wind.
Downhill pond reflections twinkle
weeping willows languid leaning
into water worn as sky.

– Smith, 8.24.2015



shimmy shimmer shake

Saturday, August 22nd, 2015


Status Report 64

That shimmy shimmer shake when light’s at stake
and high tree leaves glitter glimmer please

The little leaf laughter with its hint of leaf dance
wail wiggle wobble in happy happenstance

– Smith, 8.22.2015



The Last Library, a Repository of Unwritten Books

Friday, August 21st, 2015


Ward Shelley has an art installation opening tonight at Spaces Galley, 2220 Superior Viaduct, Cleveland, OH 44113 216.621.2314 featuring 4,500 books that have never been published, possibly because they’ve never been written.

Ward accepted title suggestions from online folk, printed up faux bookspines with the titles, glued them to strips of wood, and mounted the book spines on the wall like a library.

Here are the 80 titles I submitted. Don’t know how many were used.

The Last Library, a Repository of Unwritten Books
(Ward Shelley SPACES installation, Smith titles)

The Lost Whisper Tribe

Long Distance Data for the Short Term Mind

The Three Ways of Water, the Two Ways of Wet

How Many Rolls in the Sisyphus Rock?

XXXtra Credit – Nipple & Limelight in the Porn Industry

Aliens Stole My Brain – the Pleasures of TV & Not Having to Think

To Bee or not to Bee: Beekeeping for Beeginners

Read, Write and Bloom – the Legacy of Literacy

Words to Fit the Selling Season

Monkey See, Monkey Doo Doo: the Private Life of King Kong

Babble On, Babylon: the Curse of the Talking News Heads

Binge Eating – Satisfying the Mayonnaise Brain

Boom Boom Dog & Cat Hiding

The Church of the Eternal 420

Reality Adjustments Made Easy

Supply-Side Jesus and the Death of Shame

Assorted Oddities, Mutilated Melodies

Token Toking – Weed Etiquette for Squares

The Man with Two Sweeties

Way Past Empty – an Honorable Man in Unconformable Times

Algorithm & Blues

Our Faux Fathers at Fox: Hate Speech for Profit

Life and Like

Clone of Drone Alone: Mass Murder in the White House

Blood Country Blues

F*ck You and the Corporation You Rode In On

3-D Jesus & the Weather Vanes

UnBarCode Bred

Owling at the Moon – NASA No Longer Nascent

The Rhythm of Blues

The Old & New Testicle, the Genitals & the Juice

Hollow Would: Tinker Bell & the Attack of the 50 Foot Woman

Babies Belong – in Cages, or Soup Cans

Spermworm Cruising: I Set My Sighs on Sin

Sow & Reap, or Rip & Sew?

Acoustic Werewolf: the Shame of the Howl

Open Other In

Right Pace, Wrong Prime:
It’s Not the Present, It’s the Process

Photosynthesis Revealed: Chlorofilthy Pictures

Was the Sound of One Zen Clown

If We Have To, As We Have Had To, & We Want To, We Will

Judas Escargot, Betrayer of Snail

Fox News: Screaming Alone in the Idiot Zone

The Dangerous Subtraction of the Digital Adage

Ilk Hunting, the Cheney-Bush Beast

Cognitive Therapy – Shrinkslide in Mind

I Came to Cleveland for Another Man’s Wife, Stayed for my Own

Nekro Filly: Looking for Love in All the Wrong Coffins

There’s Always Room for Mellow: Bill Cosby & his Quaaludes

Sick Flux – the Two Party Political System in the USA

Kosher Pork and Other Business Plans

Be an Artist — Enjoy Patrons, Fame, Adventure

Ran From the Cops 10 Times, Got Away 9

Heat Warm Meat Worm: Climate Change for Fun & Profit

Holy Rodeo Radio: Sleazy Weasel & the Towels of Unbelief

The Klown Kars R Kummin’: Republican Candidates in 2015

Call 666 for the Number of Man

X (Solve For) =

Politics – Bullshit as Product

Wing Nuts, Flat-Earthers & the Tea Party – No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

In Dust Realized: the Story of Stuff

Get Up to Speed or Get Off the Road: Democracy in an Oligarchy

The Tao Jones Average: Now Zen = Zen Over Zero

The Church of Not Quite So Much Pain & Suffering
the irreverend Smith and his beloved Lady presiding

Sacred Lies:
Lies We Need to Believe to Keep from Killing Ourselves, or Others

Song of Corporate Alley: the Big Steal Reveal

Three Stretches of Word – the Balance in Absence of Malice

Fine Flux Your Flow: How to De-Stress Your Story

Golden Parachutes: System Rig Rotten from Top to Bottom

We or I Depends on You

From Grackle to Crackle and Crackle to Crow:
The Art of Shameless Self-Promotion

Fresh Air Piranha Home Protection Devices

The Sacred Number of the Holy 420

Truth du Jour: Which Truth You Want? (We Got Em All)

Peanut Butter & Jellyfish Sandwich: Slo-Mo GMO

Odds & Ins in Bits Begin: The History of Code

The Push of Coffee, the Pull of Grass:
Caffeine and Cannabis in a Country of Crude

Golden Showers: How the Trickle Down Economy Really Works

Talk of the Might of Maybe: Glints in the Hind of Mind

– Smith, 8.21.2015



let wisdom walk its silence

Thursday, August 20th, 2015


Status Report 63

Disembodied voices
search the stairs for there

Leave the bars behind
take music for a ride

Blood and guts and sin again
let wisdom walk its silence

– Smith, 8.20.2015



Well knock on wood with an Eddy Floyd

Wednesday, August 19th, 2015

Cuyahoga County Fair observational beehive 2015

Well knock on wood with an Eddy Floyd — I haven’t been stung the past two weekly beehive inspections, and the belly sting the week before those went through my sweat-soaked cotton shirt which absorbed most the venom so no swelling.

Lady got stung though, outside right thigh right through her denim jeans, which surprises me.

Bees were quite angry this time, maybe we were too early in the day and too many had yet to leave for foraging. 80,000 bees is a lot of creature.

Status Report 62

Gods are nice sometimes, and sometimes not
to set in sand the line or advance the plot

They belch and blow above about what’s wrong below
yet set rule and limit off with ritual sentiment

Then take part of your pay to pave their way
to more power point presentments for primates

– Smith, 8.19.2015



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