Thursday, August 21, 2025

Boneyard Blues

 Thoughts
—Poetry and Visuals by Smith, Cleveland, OH
 
 
It's a simple game
reality tries to break me
I try not to be broken

Doing the DNA dance
I want this
it wants that
we usually do that
though sometimes I say
:Kiss my this:
and that's that

Fix is in
original sin
is the yeast inside us
 
 
 
prta


My mother is Sisyphus
my father is Sisyphus
their spawn is Sisyphus

Going to have that tattooed
on my forehead
in long strokes of iridescent ink
with black light fluorescents
flashing LEDs
alternating rhythms
in subtle leave-me-alone tone

Tomorrow

Right now I polish my weep
and creep from sleep with caution

As one once said who knows
"So it goes"
 
 
 
 Armaheadon


Take 3 sips of water
ahhhhhh

Go for more
see 3 dead flies on bottom
 
 
 
Weirdway


I'm speck
stuck in larger speck
speculating on what specs
run this bloody show
because no matter how I go
it's strictly no show logic-wise
at least for brain my size
not that size matters
when you're dealing with the old
rich and white fatters
their madhatters
their sadders

how thin
can I stretch skin within
in this land of factual fracture
 
 
 
 Shardglass


Driving into city haze
on cold concrete maze

the ill of affluence
oozing to confuse us

our pockets empty
our wantings sense-free

heavy in tempting
darkness and loss

concrete covering moss

as far as I can see
wisest lifeforms are the trees

we should kneel before them

Boneyard Blues

Nausea gnaws at ya
that's why it's called nausea

But that's the way it is

I get angry at others' thoughtless
as I thoughtless myself

But that's the way it is

Like  to say life is fair
and trouble rare

But that's the way it isn't

Is and isn't was and why
all traffic in lie

As ever was and will be
 
 
 
TVshadow


Old black she-cat
asleep on mantle
high up safe

Exploding grow puppy
sleeping on couch
dreams of catching cat

Wife sleeps in hammock on deck
exhausted by puppiness
and escaping cat

My lids open
I look in longing
at their eyeless eyes
 
 
 
 Gunman


Do I flight in fluster
or float within the wind
the water
the weary
the wonderful

flout it all

they call me silver-haired surfer
I ride the undecided
roll the rock
watch it go
again

again
again
each time slight new subtle
in spin
drift
if

if
so strange
implies this or that
but more at
between i and f
endless

there's me
there's you
there's them
uninfinite pov's
none right
all wrong
none wrong
all right

if you meet the baby Buddha
on the road
wipe his bottom
 
 
 
 Dyslexia


Today’s LittleNip:

I burnish my image
unbutton its back
slip in

—Smith

__________________

—Medusa, with thanks to rocker Smith (Steven B. Smith) for today’s fine poetry and visuals!
 
 
 
 Me
—Visual by Smith
















 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
A reminder that
Rhony Bhopla and Miriam Ahmed
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