Friday, August 16, 2019

Dark Questionables

Four Fates
—Poems and Visuals by Smith, Cleveland, OH


Sitting on a sinkhole
making out a list
knowing Satan's apple
falls not far from this
hoping good and evil
goads medieval salvage
setting soul retrieval
to stop this shitful slogging
nostril deep
in creep
hoping for clear water
in spite of it
and oughta

sun goes down
moon goes up
rich men profit
poor more loss

 Johnny Crash


I've got certified rats in my rafters
Of legally voided mind waste
So excuse please these cancerous laughters
This spewing of petrified paste
Vague seekings through demented hereafters
I can't find my mind's been misplaced

Electron wails mournful my nay brain
Err trails its zinc aftertaste
This drivel due mad jolting sane pain
Embraces thy sameness posthaste
Dying I burp up my madness again
I can't find my mind's been misplaced

of when of where of what am i o god of whom of why
for seeketh then thou me thou see the be that thou belie

 Shadows Known


Salamanders are moist and sticky
regenerate limbs
the only vertebrate to do

I'm sweating sticky moist
Mom said I regenerated my foreskin
I am not a salamander

What I need to regenerate
is my child-eye innocence
to view true again

Decades dull the edge
scar the heart
off the aim

The door perceived
I cannot reset see
I am experienced

I sit in the dark
watch the traffic light change
bet on the color

 Vector Analysis


Beware people with
Small heads
Big mouths
Bigger teeth
For they bugger ethics
Oil small boys
Dark questionables
Vestments drenched
In unholy liquid

Tears rise
Through my dry

It’s noontide midnight
Gossamer chalk-line fault
Cherry red siren on top
Whip cream wagon waiting
For the sauce

Right lane ends ahead
Wrong lane continues

 Plum Delight


Big cups of American coffee cheat rent
White bread rat dead

She and he honkeys
Random willed sex smiles
Eco eat spun doc wet work
Paid by skin inch

Collective shoals hustle bush
Shapes shadow symbol
Vargas vaginas piss shit shower shave
Customized codes of conduct

Sheep indivisible suckle our young
On the teats of the old
Dewey without decimal
Rather India-inked Indians
Than dead-baby truth

Missed and Mr. P.R. Clone
Dildo ditto dodo
Mime mind
Sheep asleep
Next dead guy to cum along
Arguments amongst the monks

Broken soul mesa, America
No desire
No fire
No fur



Oh my baby's cold, stiff as a board
Growing mold but she's all I can afford
Her skin's kind of blue where it ain't all green
When I do my do I first have to clean

She holds me tight in rigor mortis
Cools the hare upon my tortoise
Doesn't judge me bad or good
Lets me lick her unhealthy food

Nekro Filly ahhhh she's my fancy
Lay around she get antsy
Spiders and crickets crawl her within
Magic mushrooms grow from her skin
Gal of few words, she's my stare-down queen
Her hardness of heart being taken for mean
Her decaying toxins glow in the dark
Her dry dust flesh is fearful of spark

She keeps me cold in the hot of summer
Unless in sun she too long lingers
Then her smell well it becomes bummer
She wastes away her must-ever slimmer

 Go Thee...


"Whatcha doin'?"
Walking the wheel.
"Why ya walkin'?"
Cuz that's the deal.

This daily dance in the gravity well
you think perchance it's our hell?

Do it once
do it twice
do it every day
for life

We work this walk ’til warp reweaves
our daily take on earth's unease

There's wheel involvement
weighing the waste
and training our taste

Till bitter wind of yesterday gone
it's up to us to right the wrongs

So dampen bile
share your light
smile that smile
defeat this tripe

Or grump and groan and beef and moan
and walk a harder tone

Do it for Mister Rogers
do it for Dr. Seuss
do it cuz you oughter
do it for good use


Today’s LittleNip(s):

Bad brakes
bone breaks
body aches

Zero miles
a half a tank
a lot more ways to go

* * *


Marijuana and Mozart on a Sunday morn
Plethora of complacencies
Of tongue, beard, bush

Poets fall down.


 A la mode


It’s time for Smith again (Steven B. Smith), hot on the airwaves (heatwaves!) from Cleveland! And a big thank-you to him for, as usual, waking us up on a Friday with his sharp-edged poems and visuals.

Tonight in Davis, Sue and Stephen Daly will read at The Other Voice, which is happening at 7:30pm in the Unitarian Universalist Church on Patwin Road. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about this and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.

—Medusa, celebrating poetry that plays with rhythms and sounds!


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