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barnabassmith
barnabassmith
33/M/American Barnabas Smith (b. 1986, San Bernardino, CA) is a poet, musician, and designer born and raised in Southern California. He has also lived in Alaska and Nepal. He currently resides in Colorado with his wife and their two sons.
The storm came so suddenly No warning seen Now all is gone So little time to live
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Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 3:01 AM UTC
The Storm
The flame begins to flicker Darkness creeps in The furnace stands strong Yet no heat remains within
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Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
The Furnace
A person’s strongest dreams are about what he can’t do Given the power, he would do extraordinarily self destructive things
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Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
There's a Way Out of Any Cage
Sometimes poems take forever to pass by like fishing for the big one hook, line, sinker, Sitting, watching the water ripple as they tease saying "we're just below the surface of what you see."
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Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
Fishing
Somethings are well worth the wait Each passing second Each tick Each tock is a sour note sung from the face of the clock
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Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 7:17 PM UTC
Chronos Plays Penderecki
Among trees i rest and wander through scriptures of olde pouring over ancient words of grace and peace of love and compassion where can this be found outside my leather bound at a green picnic bench i read and marvel at the words of Peter and Paul two thousand years removed in my semi-secluded sanctuary just off the bike path among trees i rest and wander through the works of Ezra Pound language beautifully poetic but nothing is found to my liking except of course a line or two scattered with no anchor that is how my mind rolls you see gathering bits of inspiration followed by digestion which gives birth to a renewing of my mind and soul refreshing as i ride my bicycle down the path of enlightenment aided by the words of poets, prophets, and priests culminating in fervent meditation among trees i rest and wander
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Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 3:22 PM UTC
Bike Path Enlightenment [and green picnic benches]
the ducks were holding a funeral out on the marsh under the sun silently they stood while their shadows moved around them into darkness
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Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 3:10 AM UTC
Requiem de Anas
there's a story on the wind can you hear it? an ode to a classic hero facing enemies at every turn a ballad from a love struck sailor to his land locked dame the lamentation of a tired soul ready to exit stage left epics bound in flesh breathing the same air walking the same earth yet completely unaware of when plot lines intersect one persons sunrise is another sunset riding off to where the sidewalk ends a stunning view of Mars in all his glory from another window an example of an empty vessel hungry for content with each step we act our the script the world's a stage the plays the thing let's pan out and take into view the aspect ratio in conjunction with our soundtrack monologues dialogues analog has less room for falsehood than these digital lives digital lies we lead rewriting the scope and depth of the narrative without changing pace or thinking to replace certain key elements like setting and grace peace comes when the curtain closes don't fret encores are in order but on the b-side of the single we must note with remixed emotion that the stories we live have no sequel so we must trust and ****** ourselves into every opportunity paving the way to success not just for us but for those that read the synopsis and hit rewind
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Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 7:51 AM UTC
Epics Bound in Flesh
i took the time to set a course for that glorious shore i set my sights on the distant future using past actions and past quarrels as warning for the tides to come but the wind on these waters changes as it wishes the waves roll on and on i lost my bearings in the fog and now i'm lost as to where to go from here again i took the time to set a course for that glorious shore knowing full well that without the One who controls the winds and sea i will become nothing more than meat between teeth
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Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 4:46 PM UTC
Sail on past the Carcharodon
We fill our minds with distant lies and feign a cultured philosophy we judge the lives of distant tribes as we make our own taxonomy how blessed are we with time to spare to let our minds wander without a care
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Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 1:51 PM UTC
Regarding the Middle Aged Women in the Booth in Front of Me