Whether Report
A slice of new moon slivers sky
with sly Cheshire Cat smile
Old orb but a piece of the pie
heralding new dawn’s new why
The winds blow cold to hot
slide from high to low
Around we go and go again
grounded by gravity and sin
We reach for the stars
while standing in trash
Our problems are old
the solutions still fresh
Do we lie down with mold
or rise from the flesh?
– Smith, 8.31.2016
total sale
Sky Cog
O Great Cog
release me from this wheel
I’m but broken bit
neither tooth nor flair
save me from this pace
before I wreck the place
for I am wrench in works
will impede the flow
jam the am
scram Your precious plan
You should offer me some slack
put me on the beach
coated with soothing oils
a book in hand
pen and paper near
grass in pipe
strong black coffee dear
food units to imbibe
the occasional magic mushroom
to color reason
and I will season tone
while You work the other drones
– Smith, 8.30.2016
machine man
I’m fortunate once again to be serving up the fare at Medusa’s online Kitchen . . . 9 fotos, 9 poems, 1 song.
This is my 9th monthly appearance, and I greatly appreciate the gig and editor/publisher Kathy Kieth’s generosity.
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/08/doing-it-for-love.html
Reboot
This dark before dawn
gentles with promise
of new light
and yesterday’s wrong gone right
overnight
Cat on lap
wife meditating on couch
my ache eased in lazy chair
outside traffic slow
noise low
three stories below
I read of centuries past
see their wrong our wrong still
but that don’t mean it always will
for bad can change
and in small groups folk can be good
The rich are wrong
sing sad song
piss in their own stew
we are not them
can make better then
and often do
So it’s one on one here
to counter too many there
Home’s grown alone
– Smith, 8.26.2016
Player piano
presses type in prayer to platen
thinks about the future and its audience
now, a lonely chandelier
Friends in balconies –
elsewhere
Theater curtain whooshes open to acts
and splashes closed
to plaudits
Bothers Grim
(a fairy tale for adults)
Sneeze and blow
bleed and bow
keep on the go
pay rent somehow
tighten your belt
loose your ethics
gotta stay svelte
and avoid car mechanics
run the rat trap
keep moving the wheel
the top’s where it’s at
the hurt of the deal
stab folk in back
betray all your friends
give no one slack
for the race never ends
there is no joy
or beauty or love
you’re in our employ
we rule from above
you’re nothing but chattel
we own your soul
treat you like cattle
keep you in owe
no end to this game
you’re treated like sheep
your loss is our gain
your profits we keep
go on and drink booze
but keep off the grass
no matter you lose
cuz we own your ass
– Smith, 8.25.2016
what the flux?
not this way
Capitalism
Fuck the many
for the good of the few
– Smith, 8.24.2016
no way
blowing smoke
Minimal List
To relieve, one must first leave
I started out as a prophet
but turned into a loss
We know never enough till too far gone
It’s Taser Nation over all
with liberty and justice revocable
Sentient meat meeting scent of rent
In movies there’s always
a full moon, instant parking, and no horseshit
For sum why I’m still working lie
“Myself am hell” says Satan to the sheep
as he dons his best worsted
Owling at the moon
We have big at our fingers
do so little with it
Don’t judge out loud in print or crowd
Are we many or one? Or none?
I step in truth and scrape it off my shoe
System rigged rotten from top trickle down bottom
This is not an issue
as they say in the magazine trade
I’m a blues singer in a synth band
The man who had the first penis transplant,
did that make his wife an adulteress?
Use natural ass gas, harness the farts
Red White & Boom or read write & bloom?
fix the system, don’t blame the symptoms
Raise sin to sensation, peel feel from ground
One must fight atomic weapons, death rays
and machine mind
Don’t beat a dead hearse
End quote from a dying computer:
All men go to good earth in one eternal silent night
I know I are but what am you?
– Smith, 8.23.2016
gas is cut
Status Report 233
The lotus flower blooms unblemished
from muck of mud and dirt
I was born drenched in filth
rich in original sin
My petals wilt from want of sun
as I watch enpowered orb
Seems I’m more like maybe moon
stark in cold and dim
I wanted so to grow to star
bright in distant am
But star too far beyond my reach
so worm crawl inch by inch
Eating dirt while dreaming sky
no arms to scratch this itch
– Smith, 8.22.2016
foto collages by Lady K with me as Gandhi, Duchamp, Brahma. Nixon, Jesus, Waylon Jennings
