Blog Home Agent of Chaos City Poetry Zine Buy Stuff!
...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 )

Belly Beast


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


Leave a Reply

Copyright (c) 2009 Smith & Lady
Designed by Lady K