Thursday, June 18, 2020

The Trees, They Are Dancing

—Poetry and Visuals by Smith, Cleveland, OH


The trees they are dancing
Wind playing the tune
In sky tall prancing
Beneath a full moon

Clouds chant the chorus
Direction and sound
In song sung just for us
We being earth bound

    Romance abounds
    Adventure exists
    Just look around
    At all that you’ve missed

Our feet stuck to dirt
Our hearts leap for air
With happiness we flirt
And shirk our despair

Yes the trees they are dancing
Leaping for the moon
My soul sky chancing
Laughing in loon

Click to listen to Peter Ball music/mix, Smith recitation:


I O U I O ME (2011)

They say there's closure in the hole
but until I take that crossing
there're cobwebs in the closet
with catching flies their goal,
fine print's corrosive hint
of lies within the towers,
power's hour decaying slow
with the whole thing going sour.

Cobwebs in the closet
No closure in the hole
Past sins should first be offset
Before we slave our soul

So please soul say it isn't so
provide a more positive posit
give heart a chance to sing
eye a ruddy red rose
and ayes deeper development.

For as my wife disclosed
"Now is the flower."

We each our own self owe.

Click to listen to Peter Ball music/mix, Smith recitation:



I got the blues baby needs new shoes
Old shoe won’t do tired of this fool
Gonna find new drool

She's looking to see what’s left of me
Saw she made her mark I’m cold and dark
Baby spanks new spark

Oh I been to school and I paid some dues
I know who fool whose who using who
Baby seeks new tool

Part and partial pain part hurting again
Part hurting as end never making amend
Never saying her sin

And she'll never stop doing her dirty bop
Till sagging flesh drops or someone calls the cops
Messes up her ops

Nothing I can do too too her fool
Apply my own eye wool I’m be gone butt drool
Dead dried toad tool

She's moving too fast her next piece of ass
Her house made of glass and her empty past
I'm yesterday's grass

I'm old going slow no goosing my glow
Ain't got enough dough ain't cool guy to know
She needs be I go

She’s seeking new beats new trickings to treat
New sauces to heat new meat to repeat
Old dick to delete

So I got me these blues baby needs new shoes
Old shoe won’t do she’s tired of this fool
Gonna find her new drool

Click to listen to Peter Ball music/mix, Smith recitation:


52 BLUES (2010)

Blues rocking my notion
Blues quaking my earth
Blues causing commotion
Blues life's afterbirth

Blues empty my wallet
Blues hole in my ace
Blues whatever you call it
Blues winning the race

Blues bogarting boardroom
Blues suffering's shame
Blues heavy in hordes loom
Blues down dirty game

Blues stomping the Savoy
Blues blowing the blame
Blues exploding the convoy
Blues shattershot aim

Blues hoodooing abuse
Blues burgeoning bicker
Blues clogging the clues
Blues secretly snicker

Blues in my pockets
Blues in my hair
Blues my eye sockets
Blues body snare

Blues ain't got a woman
Blues got too many gals
Blues darkening domain
Blues breaking my pals

Blues harmonica crying
Blues electric guitar
Blues slow night dancing
Blues wherever you are

Blues just ain't my am
Blues knot nature's load
Blues a late-night jam
Blues the midnight crossroad

Blues is selling your soul
Blues is crying your game
Blues is digging your hole
Blues is jazz rhythm rain

Blues sickens the sore
Blues unjustly jisms
Blues unevens the score
Blues happiness imprisons

Blues is the night's shadow
Blues is the day's glare
Blues is good time's widow
Blues but might's blare

Blues dark dank and dripping
Blues ark for the poor
Blues history's shipping
Blues forevermore

Click to listen to Peter Ball music/mix, Smith recitation:



Rocks roll, wills wail
sorry soul gone to hell
didn't hafta, coulda changed
you know I ax'ya not to range
but blame don't walk
and talk don't shame
when aim won't work
and chalk can't chain
you walk your cell a day at a time
knowing full well you did the crime
of being born, of buying in
full face forlorn, fool human sin
bad design not my fault
get on the wire to the Keeper's vault
it's His work, it's His line
He shouldn't shirk my misalign
an even deck is all I ask
what the heck
I can do the hack

Click to listen to Peter Ball music/mix, Smith recitation:


8-BALL BOOGIE (2004)

8-ball boogie get you every time. Tried to fax the
factors in, they made me stand in line. Try to share
my truth with them, they stamp my life a lie.

Reason drips in dropped disguise red through white
through blues departing in the night, the never right
hype the Man, his chicken stripe, and his doo doo do.

Weren't for Monk, I'd catch Coltrane. Weren't for TV
I'd have a brain. Heart and soul sold for junk. If I'm
the rat, best step back, I'm not the one gonna jump.

We worship Amway, Scientology too. As long as it's
Brand Named we play the fool, pay first-born foreskin,
a nipple or two. So break out your dead deal dust due.

Give motley to the mass, money to the crass, crack
to ass, rules to road, fools to goad, loopholes
to close, and to me? an all-ee all-ee out's in free.

I'd eat the rich but their taste is so bad. I'd serve
the poor but too many already have. I'd play with myself
but I'm not all here, so I ask God, She still there?

My taxes go to Intelligent Design, yet monkeys mock
my monk, dry hump my rub for luck, for butter or
verse such clues in the blight bring about the dollar.

8-ball boogie gets you every time. Tried to fax the
factors in, they made me stand in line. Try to share
my truth with them, they stamp my life a lie.

I agree to agree & consume, my job's to nod and buy,
nod and buy, nod and buy, material junk, shoot and die.

Click to listen to Peter Ball music/mix, Smith recitation:



We're born in blood, raised in flesh
In Ragnarock 'n roll Armageddon
So let's go let's go let's go go Sell American
For the red white black and blue

Schrodinger's cat is dead, perhaps
And we but lie, lie dreaming
This tit for tat means this this ain't that
No matter what the ragweed’s weaving

My Little Bo Peep's out eating her sheep
With Darwin doubtless her handle
Your Little Boy Blue's down sniffing glue
While cooking a spoon over candle

Click to listen to Peter Ball music/mix, Smith recitation:



Well you slip your hand on in
pulling light down low
grip unzippered sin
do the masturbation mambo

Add some lubricating cream
to massage the ole libido
dream a dreamy dream
and masturbate the mambo

Oh you stroke it to the left
and you pull it to the right
while thinking of the cleft
and squeezing real tight

You're picking up the pace
roiling oil on the ego
in this fleshly race
of the masturbation mambo

You do the pants pant here
then the rub dub there
through empty air you spear
phantasmagoric hair

Moaning lone and low in groan
of huffing puffing hump
your sex and you alone
in pre-climaxing clump

You play the music louder
make faster master go
in double dealing downer
doing masturbation mambo

Till bang you break the mold
in epileptic shudder
your inner outer load
that was meant for another

So with hairy palm on gland
and blindness quickly coming
why don't you give yourself a hand
and tug your central something

Click to listen to Peter Ball music/mix, Smith recitation:


MOVE OVER (2015)

Watch for danger on the tables
sort the motion from the side
keep on moving soft as Able
when to Cain he cried
as his smoke scurried skyward
while his brother’s fire died         

“Why burn grain my only brother
When God wants blood not yet dried
because God and man on flesh survive
so forget the cheek, the halfway humble
we glory God with genocide.”

That was the gamble of the agile
when we crept from sea to land
and though the problem’s far from over
violence still gums up the plan

This eye for eye and cheek for cheek
pads the pockets of the rich
hurts the meek

T’ain’t I and I my angry brother
versus you and you and yours of yore
all of us under rich bloodsuckers
pulling strings from top for more
and when we fight, they win
but if we unite
that’s something else again

Until then help your neighbor
help your friend
help yourself self help again

It’s your corner, it’s your light
your smile here might make right
bemuse there
reduce the glare

Click to listen to Billy Clarksville music/mix, Smith recitation:


Today’s LittleNip:

I don’t want learning, or dignity, or respectability. I want this music, and this dawn, and the warmth of your cheek against mine.



—Medusa, thanking Smith (Steven B. Smith) for his rockin’ poetry-music this morning, as he starts off this weekend of Juneteenth, Solstice and Father’s Day for us! “…help your neighbor help your friend…”, he says ~

 —Photo by Smith

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in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.

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