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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 October, 2022

Lady’s poem 10.30.2022

Monday, October 31st, 2022

Octobers

Bees fly by our wavy green window
fuzzy gold comets on solar missions
stitches of insects are more magical than sparkles

And the light of sun on the wind water of trees
olive diamonds flop in and out
like frankincense Saturdays

I remember pictures of boy scouts camping
unloading Grandpa Ireland’s VW bus
technicolor apples of their cheeks
the daub of a palette knife
gulped in a throat

In my mouth, the rock taste of water
the eyelid of a lip
divining rod in the secondary growth forest
paths tangle in my eye
woman girl

– Lady, 10.30.2022

 

the G spot

Monday, October 31st, 2022
songs once in my shuffle pool . . . 
Gloria: In Excelsis Deo – Patti Smith
Go Down, Moses – Paul Robeson
God – Tori Amos
God Bless the Child – Billie Holiday
God Break Down the Door – Nine Inch Nails
God Moves on the Water – Larkin Poe
God Was Drunk When He Made Me – Jim White
God is God – Juno Reactor
God’s Back Pocket – Hellwood
God’s Gonna Cut You Down – Johnny Cash

 

Smith is in the Kitchen today

Tuesday, October 25th, 2022

Rolling Up Those Hours

My monthly feature on Medusa’s Kitchen (9 poems, 10 fotos).

“Smith is in the Kitchen today, and welcome back to him and his way-cool poetry and visuals! Steven Smith suffered a bad fall recently, with multiple injuries, and he’s having to work his way through it with not-a-little pain. Fortunately, recent arm surgery was completed with success. Hang in there, Big Guy! Joy, love, coffee and weed…” – Kathy Kieth, edited and published Medusa’s Kitchen.

https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2022/10/rolling-up-those-hours.html

 

new dozen added to old shuffle pool

Tuesday, October 25th, 2022

new dozen added to old shuffle pool

310 – Industrial Disease – Dire Straits
311 – abcdefu – Gayle
312 – Atemporal – Lucrecia Dalt
313 – Everything Goes To Hell – Tom Waits
314 – God’s Away On Business – Tom Waits
315 – Colossus – Idles
316 – Cool Dry Place – The Traveling Wilburys
317 – Black Diamond Bay – Bob Dylan
318 – Senor Blues – Horace Silver
319 – Blue Haze – Miles Davis Quartet, Horace Silver, Percy Heath & Art Blakey
320 – Israelites – Desmond Dekker
321 – Genesis – Otyken

 

unhumorous

Saturday, October 15th, 2022

Unhumorous by Smith & Lady

Running on pain, caffeine, and weed
loss, and want, and need
past the winking abyss
and the terror of this
and the stain of the blood in the bleed

Five months ago I tore my bicep loose from my shoulder. Emergency Doctor said it seemed okay but swelling hid my torn muscle deformation.

Weeks later, the swelling started to go down. Then dog Marlowe lunged sideways on a walk after another dog and further damaged the arm. After that reswelling diminished, he did it again. After two months it deflated enough to see that my bicep had slid down to my elbow and was going horizontal rather than vertical.

The Wife and I decided to take Marlowe to a do-it-yourself dog wash. He promptly shit on the floor. I pivoted to retrieve a poo bag from the car and in my quick haste took one step down a two-step stair too fast, caught the non-slip rubber tip of my shoe on the non-slip rubber grip of the step, ran full-force into a wall display and crash landed my side onto the concrete floor.

I sat on the smashed display case holding my upper arm together and told Lady since we were already here, she may as well wash Marlowe before heading to the ER. Meanwhile pain so sudden and extreme I was nauseous and cold sweat broke out, washed down my face and dripped off my nose.

She tried to wash Marlowe, but the tub was too small for an overweight 150 pound Golden Labrador / Mastiff mix, so one broken-bone-no-bath laugh on me.

ER said I’d broken the humerous, three ribs, had lightly lacerated my kidney, and that my arm x-ray showed a rebreak of a recent break that hadn’t healed. X-ray tech was a short, stocky, middle-aged, muscular eastern European woman. She took the sling off my arm for a better picture, then hurried back and in a deep heavy accent said, “Put back on. Arm fall off.”

We laughed. Then I saw the x-ray – top two-thirds of my humerous pointed to 11 o’clock, its shorter shard to 6, the two pieces not even close to touching.

They gave me Fentanyl twice, which didn’t do much due to low dosage. They shot me with Oxycontin, which helped, but not nearly enough. Then they hit me with Dilaudid, which completely vaporizes pain and makes you feel reeaaal good. They put me in the hospital two nights to make sure the kidney wasn’t bleeding, then sent me home.

Two weeks later they cut me open and screwed my bone back together with a metal plate. They gave me a nerve block for the pain. The arm’s dead fleshweight hung uselessly from my shoulder. That night in bed, nine hours after the surgery, I leaned against the dead arm and watched Orphan Black. When I got up I felt wet t-shirt. I asked Lady what it was. She sad soft said, “Blood.”

Blood was all over the sheets, the blanket, and me. We went back to the hospital and sat in the ER four more hours. The 12” bandage had absorbed all the blood it could handle from the stapled incision, but the suture was fine, so they cleaned me up and sent me home.

You’ve no idea how much you use both arms . . . putting on socks, pulling up pants, buckling belt, tying shoes, hugging wife, rolling joint — every lift, turn, push, pull brought fire pain for five months. All of this made worse due to one fresh public pile of dog poo.

I’m 76 years old, old enough to know better, too old for this. My earliest memories are torn bleeding flesh, and they’ve continued life long. I’m 6’ 3” with size 9 feet waaay too small to provide proper foundation. It’s no wonder I’m so clumsy. Moreover, I’m impetuous. I bounce around changing vectors like a hungry quark. My body is aging, less reliable, my magnificent balance fast fading, my flesh weary worn, my brain spewing such mind worms as these . . .

First word of the day
pain
and the last

Things break down
until they stop
I go on

Hoping it’s fine
knowing it’s not
continuing anyway

Pain doesn’t go
life doesn’t stop
whatcha gonna do?

I’m a high-speed
hitting black ice at night kinda guy
and it’s getting old

I have no mouth but scream

 

– Smith & Lady 10.15.2022

 

new tunes for the old shuffle . . .

Monday, October 10th, 2022

new tunes for the old shuffle . . .

329 – White Man – Material
330 – Piss Up A Rope – Ween
331 – Waving My Dick In The Wind – Ween
332 – Man vs. The Empire Brain Building – Was (Not Was)
333 – Speed Racer – Devo
334 – (Stuck Inside Detroit) Out Come The Freaks – Was (Not Was)
335 – Road To Peace – Tom Waits
336 – One Step Beyond – Madness
337 – Trouble Every Day – The Mothers of Invention
338 – Steer Your Way – Leonard Cohen
339 – Miss You – The Rolling Stones
340 – She Worships Money – Doug Thomas, Gary McCoy, Levon Helm & Garth Hudson
341 – Nevermind – Leonard Cohen
342 – Sounds of Silence – Simon & Garfunkle
343 – Cannibal’s Hymn – Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
344 – Mercy, Mercy, Mercy – Cannonball Adderly
345 – I Wanna Grow Up To Be A Politician – The Byrds
346 – Sixteen Tons – Tennessee Ernie Ford
347 – Morning Tala – Pharoah Sanders & Bill Laswell
348 – Your Cheatin’ Heart – Hank Williams & The Drifting Cowboys
349 – Come Together – The Beatles
350 – You Can’t Catch Me – Chuck Berry
351 – This Is Why – Paramore
352 – Take California (short one) – Propellerheads
353 – Johnny 99 – Bruce Springsteen
354 – Pink Cadillac – Bruce Springsteen
355 – Sufferer’s Time – The Heptones
356 – Werewolves of London – Warren Zevon
357 – Forest Fire – Dead Kennedys
358 – The Lovecats – The Cure

 

september 2022 poem harvest

Wednesday, October 5th, 2022

September 2022 poem harvest

2022.9.6 – An old song long gone
2022.9.11 – Humans
2022.9.12 – Things break down
2022.9.13 – There’s done, to do, and doing
2022.9.16 – Hoping it’s fine
2022.9.27 – I’m a high-speed
2022.9.30 – Running on pain, caffeine, and weed

~ ~ ~

An old song long gone
plops into my morning brain
dances ear to ear

~ ~ ~

Humans
from life in the fast lane
to strife in the last lane

as Einstein sez
it’s all relative
so reality’s your in law

~ ~ ~

Things break down
until they stop
I go on till then

~ ~ ~

There’s done, to do, and doing
past, present, future
yet somehow it’s always now

~ ~ ~

Hoping it’s fine
knowing it’s not
continuing anyway

~ ~ ~

I’m a high-speed
hitting black ice at night kinda guy
and it’s getting old

I have no mouth but scream

~ ~ ~

Running on pain, caffeine, and weed
loss, and want, and need
past the winking abyss
and the terror of this
and the stain of the blood in the bleed

 

 
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