Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Adam Schmitt Sep 2021
I've hit rock bottom
Once or twice
Been to the moon and back
Lived on the thinnest ice
I've gathered some scars
And I've talked to the stars
Spent some time behind bars

I have paid a due or two

I ran for my life
From an angry Moose
I looked up the proper number of
Twists in a noose
I turned the tables on a hungry bear
I've climbed the mountains and breathed the rarefied air

I have paid a due or two

I've had my long dark nights of the soul
I've seen the pieces, and I've seen the whole
I've pushed a boulder up the same hill many times
Just to watch it roll back down, so, once again,
I make that climb
I've written riddles, hymns(riffs) , blog entries, and rhymes

I have paid a due or two
This is a song I wrote last summer. My instagram page has a video of me playing it.

https://www.instagram.com/tv/CTm2cPNlz2X/?utm_medium=copy_link
Adam Schmitt Aug 2022
Nothing like the last minute before you start
the show
when the air is rare,
and the faces there clearly
pining for that first note
Nothing like the last time
When you gave it your all
sweat pouring down, smoke in the air,
and you're commanding the entire hall.

The music in the air tonight
Will flow forth from
   my ocean   soul.
The people dancing, singing, laughing,
Some studiously ignoring,
(who happen to find my music boring)
Will, once again,
   make me whole.

         The vibes we give and the vibes we get,
and the vibes we have to just forget,
  All of it is glorious,
though glory comes
at a heavy cost.
Nothing ventured, nothing
gained or lost.
I've no regrets about
the rewards I've tossed.

   Nothing like that first blue note,
When the gathered folks hear
The songs I wrote.
Some with face like stone,
And some with
Their minds blown,
Everybody gathered here is beautiful,
in a cosmic light of their own.
And the music shall be known.
The messenger birds have already flown,
and the music shall be known,
and The music shall be.

                                      And is.
                              Now, and Then....

   I gotta remind myself to learn the club owner's name,
So he will have us back
                                       again.
A love poem about music and life, with a little comedic tag at the end.
Adam Schmitt Sep 2021
You've caught me in a strange mood,
with some energy,
but no food,
and I've got all these things I want to share
Please just try to hear me.
I'm skeptical, but dearly
long for the strength of her faith
like it's air

She once told me that my path
is guided by mishaps
that I commit every time
I want to sleep
"When you're craving some shut eye
but settle for some cheap wine
God laughs as
his tricks make you weep"

That's what she told me
and no philosophy holds me
like her words which shouldn't ring that true
How can she know that
God's a grinning Cheshire cat,
with endless wisdom
that's never really on cue?

I'm standing on the brink
of finding the link
where my mind and my body should meet,
And I inch ever closer
to the answer that I know
will not put any part of me at ease.

With his endless arrows
Cupid amuses his narrow
mind, He's having his
fun shooting blind.
Every bad romance
just gives him one more chance
to laugh when he forgets he can fly

Lost in her freedom
she knows she doesn't need him
she just tells herself "we're both being used"
And that is enough to repeat all the stuff
that got her feeling empty,
misplaced,
and confused

So I have fun in my way
with this old tragic play
that we convince ourselves has gotta be real...
Hiding from emptiness
I look to be tempted with
anything that has a nice feel..

My thoughts gather in whirlpools
in a sea of these new rules
and I wonder If I'll ever catch up.
Yet they flow ever quicker
when there's a reason to snicker
and I cannot deny they're
quite possibly corrupt.

And I know I'm just another one
Trying to have some fun
Thinking that my smoke belongs in the air
But I could easily forget this
and then there'd be no witness
to what seemed like
the Truth on a tear...
Old song.
Adam Schmitt Oct 2022
Unlike Michelangelo, whose marble slab
contains an entangled entirety of a crystalline vision of love,
    life,
        and loss,
the desolation of souls,
    the rending of divinity,
the forlorn sacrifice,
only seen by him
   until
the sweaty glistening stone,
     hewn and chiseled,
          sculpted and slashed,
  for tedious eons
    painstakingly marked by time
  and life force sacrificed,
revealed its secret gift,

I attempt to recreate the Pietà
      by adding on material to the medium,

rather than by carving it away.
Random poetry I felt like writing today. No rhymes this time.
Adam Schmitt Apr 2020
To compose the fractured consciousness like a million-piece mirror with something greater than glue, The Galaxy of thoughts and their accompanying peopledness swirls fresh and new this morning, propping me up instead of weighing me down.

I have the footprints of some road signs that I ran over one day, the car ploughed through them all going off the shoulder of the highway and up the muddied neck of creation.

If the world has fallen, where does one lie down at night other than under the rubble or under the stars?

There hollers a man, soul searing, guts thoroughly wrenched, but he Blocks the doorway of parties with hidden interests, all of them equally Drunk, though sober, Boredom is a clever disguise.

The man who moulds his breath into that violent Release also works on the artistry of his face. For a man with nothing to hide your face can never have too many lines, and he's carving out a clay masterpiece though his life is a kiln of grief, the Cold Furnace carries on around him, Robbing itself of the simple beauty it produced long ago.
freeform writing that I made in an old school notebook. I thought it was an interesting series of words so I published it here.
Adam Schmitt Oct 2017
Creative Destruction
When I asked why the poem was deadly
Nobody could pick up my sign,
But they did their best to remain pretty friendly
even if they so clearly hid what's on their mind.
And I looked for a while at the pages
claimed by a man long ago
Who grew darkness like a king grows cages
and I knew right away this was Poe.

He wrote about the guilty heart and secret dreams,
and I know I have both of those in spades.
The first is due to my borrowed time,
and the second happens every time I get paid.
With no qualms about leaving behind the quiet life
like an old blanket that no longer keeps out the cold,
I push ahead knowing I'm headed for much more strife
than I even know how to handle or to hold.

On my mind these creations work in strange ways
and I'm feeling just a little bit drained;
when the sunlight and heat are still hours away
they flame up and demand to be tamed.
But tell that to the people I need to see tomorrow
and they look at me like I'm insane.
All the more reason not to feel any sorrow
When I escape from this fluorescent light domain.

I might wind up dead on the side of the road
and be remembered by a lonesome song.
But when the daylight glints off of my eyes
I know I don't feel I've gone so wrong.

On the road beneath my feet my boots are tattered,
and I still have many crossroads to get passed
I hope, for once, all my illusions are shattered
and I find just what I'm looking for at last.
There's no destiny like for those who seek
everything but what's in front of their face.
Poe's haunting words are still at work
when I decided I need to keep up the chase

I cast nothing out when I pick it up,
All my memories make a home inside my brain.
I might not try to see if some are corrupt,
to be honest it all seems much the same.
They're all just tools for the Muses's fool
who tries to serve Her each and every day.
Always struggling with futility
can make even the most jaded one want to pray.

Some times I think I'm on a fool's errand
trying to blaze a trail where no one cares to stray
At the same time I can't see why I shouldn't
make some use of my dwindling days
The road I'm on was well traveled once
and, if it still is, then I just don't know,
but it's hard to see too far ahead
With a cloud of visions constantly in tow.

Yes, I might wind up dead on the side of the road
and be forgotten before too long,
But when the daylight glints off of my eyes
I see a place where I might belong.

My pockets have holes, but are still useful.
My shoes have them too but feel great.
It's not like the gravel is all that painful
when you've been living on it for thousands of days.
The Sun is almost down now, and I have to leave
before the Muse calls me to Her.
She's never been one to wait that long,
She keeps a long list of those She might prefer.

The first of Her flames rise behind my eyes
when the dawn and dusk stand perfectly opposed.
The moon shines down through clouds as I write my lines
and my poorly guarded thoughts become exposed.
And when it's clear She's totally used me up,
and left me with nothing to call my own,
a seed appears, subtle and abrupt.
Could be brilliant, but She's just throwing me a bone.

The essence of Her preachers who lived and spoke
to the gathered crowds from days long ago
was spilt upon my growing restless mind
and it never washed off or lost its glow.
I know these words all came from Her
when She was feeling merciful instead of carefree.
Her image-less face always in the air
wherever my eyes try to see.

Yes, I might wind up dead on the side of the road
and be hated, loved, or ignored.
But every time the daylight hits my eyes
My ears ring with that same phantom chord.

When those highest priests died before their time
it was clear Her potency wasn't just for show.
When they signed their deals to work for Her
She would never allow them to let it go.
The gifts She gave in their very first days,
just samples of Her endless dreams,
contaminated their all their futures
and made them eager to leave the main stream.

I know I have to die eventually
so why not end up on the side of the road,
having lived my life always for Her,
and for those who need a glimpse of Her code?
Adam Schmitt Dec 2020
With my head on straight,
I hear the trees falling
with no one around,
for I am no one.
They do, in fact, make a sound.

With my eyes seeing clear,
Just another choice
just another day
just another voice
just another play.
Not enough time, not enough love,
not of enough of a reason
to keep trekking through the mud.
Not enough words to nail down what
you're thinking of the sinking
and the rising of the flood.
Too much silence, too much disguise,
too much of nothing, too many sweet little lies,
too much of something I can't recognize,
too many angles of mysterious intent.
Too much to wrangle, all my patience spent.

And yet...?
no idea what this is supposed to mean. It just felt good to write it.
Adam Schmitt Dec 2022
I almost died the other day
And I came back to this place just to say
That you never know when it all can get taken Away
All your life's lessons suddenly play
like a highschool production through your mind's electric grey clay,
a mind managing to keep itself oxygenated enough to operate even as consciousness fades
A body lying there, blue as a mid summer's day, gasping
For breath, and for a chance to stay
Alive.

I woke up, having almost died the other day,
To a room full of strange faces, whose eyes all aimed my way.
A room full of strangers,
My vision regaining clarity,
I see equipment of many types, lying around a well decorated living room, it seemed out of place,
devices dreamed up by engineers a few hundred miles away,
At an elite institution, of mechanical engineering and science, engineering devices that now lay about my horrified friend's living room,
Then the puzzle regained its shape, and I was graced with the understanding that it was all going to be okay,
this time, anyway.

the first responders,
My saviours.
Real heroes,
Who wear no capes,
Nor spandex,
But who know their job well,
And do it without delay,
And these people who saved my life today
Are out of my life now forever, and onto saving another fragile life, on some other street,
On some other day.

I saw people in blues, reds, and greys, yellows and oranges, and then the light of the day.
The light of the day on which I did not die,
But I could have, had it been another time,
Another place.

My stretcher was bright yellow, by the way...

I almost died the other day, and its implacable oncoming rush scared me.
The fear of not having lived a worthy life, an unobserved life,
Of dying too soon, with things left to do
Of leaving people behind,
Of wrongs left to right
Of lying here blue
On my dear friend's plush carpet,
And her child witnessing it as he comes home from school. Innocent as day, then scarred for life.

Luckily I have a few friends and modern miracles on my side.

I almost died the other day, and I came back here, having missed all the poetry, that makes life worth living, day after day.
Beyond the biorhythms we must feed
In order to stay
Alive.

   Peace.
         Love.
Breath.
             Focus.

                     A good enough mantra,
                     Wouldn't you say?

I almost died the other day,
But I didn't. I breathe
in with gratitude,
And I exhale with relief,
that I still got the knack
for it.
Sometimes the poems are real. I had a severe anaphylactic reaction to an allergen, but I lived thanks to the support systems available to me. Everyone deserves access to quality healthcare. EVERYONE.
Adam Schmitt Mar 2018
The moon shines down with a crooked smile
onto the streets below
The Drunken crowds, the smokey haze
The empty stores, the neon blaze
All awash in a blue-white glow
The clouds gather in the darkness
The ships reinforce their hull
The sky above is starless
In the Kingdoms of the skull

You're driving home on the same road
You've taken every day before
You curse the truck that cut you off
With an American flag pasted to its door
At a glance you know the driver, inside and out.
A fool, no doubt...hateful, witless, and dull...
You're judge, jury and executioner
In the Kingdoms of the skull

What's known is known, what's not is not
What's happening to you is real,
where you are is where you're caught
But in the Kingdoms of the skull...
you are lord of all the land
every man must kneel to you
every heart is yours to command
Oh, In the Kingdoms of the skull...
the sun orbits me,
My view of things is clear and right,
It all happened because of me
unfinished poetic concept that might be a song one day. It was inspired by David Foster Wallace's "This is Water" speech.
Adam Schmitt Sep 2019
The president has to tell himself things
To keep himself from drowning
he says that he has fins
To keep himself from falling
he says that he has wings
To keep himself from hurting
he says he's immune to all stings
To keep himself happy
he says he always wins
To keep himself going
it's to these, and more, which he clings
The president has to tell himself things,
so he's not that unlike me
lighthearted doggerel that came out of a day dream
Adam Schmitt Feb 2022
If you don't Think
It's a Con
You're Dead
wrong!

If you don't Think
It's a Con
You're Dead
wrong!

If you don't Think
It's a Con
You're Dead
wrong!

If you don't Think
It's a Con
You're Dead
wrong!


                                NOW
                   Only

One
                      question remains:
                  
                            What is It?

                                       ...

If you don't Think
It's a Con
You're Dead
wrong!
            
                                      ...
Bu­t what is It?
A study in repetition. A con. A question. An answer?
None of the above? A poem? Maybe...
Adam Schmitt Nov 2022
What lines,
Scope and everbirth,
dwell within
corkscrewed graves
Of my ancestors'
passion projects?
We are all pawns of something bigger than ourselves.
Adam Schmitt Sep 2019
My love only goes where the green grass grows,
always on the other side,

   Well, yeah I'm jaded! What do you want me to do?

            I'll jump around...

Through the shadow and the deep dark sea
through the blinding light of insanity
through the webs and the lies of mine
through the filiments of shattered time
through the categories of abstract space
through the waters of unearned grace
through the vortex and through the hoop
through the cortex and through the ****
through the ediface of a house of cards
through the door of a room full of bards

     And when I finally find
     what I'm jumping around for,
     then I'll make me a pallet
     upon the grassy floor

Share my water, and share my bread
Share the wine, share the

                                                  kind

Aaaannd­ share the pain inside my mind...

My love only goes where the green grass grows,
always on the other side...
Adam Schmitt Aug 2022
She and I together were never
the source of fireworks,
but of Landmines
Buried shallow in the Earth,
Never knowing what it's worth,
only showing each our dirt,
and telling each our hurt,
Yelling needless vul-gar words.

She and I together
wore always our clouds
at night
A wry smile and a drunken slight,
and a sallow bit of cold street light,
never trying to start a fight,
and with nothing
left to ignite,
Wondering if we're going to be
alright.
I know she probably will;

With that tough mind
of hers and her
inner fire bright,
an inferno of delight,
and her supernatural
sight,
always finding keys to
the doors locked
up most tight.

She and I today had one hell
of a trying time,
in the park where she dragged me along
by the unravelling thread
inside my mind.

I had to snip the thread
there,
and then,
She said "it's too nice a day
for us to say
'The End.'"
I said "it's not nice enough
for us to play
pretend."

I was split into tarnished silver
slivers for far too long,
After.
Exponential excruciation
A mind processing pain
that needs only be felt once
to be believed,
and I bled all those
who came close enough
to try and pick up the pieces.
I am welded back together now,
but there are smoking craters
I need to fill,
I think...
(therefore I will)
Though conspicuously tarnished,
even better still?

She and I together are now only
casual, cordial, and cool.
She and I together finally,
possibly,
learned the Golden Rule:

"Do unto others, as you would have done unto you"

It seemed cliche
until that day
When she and I together
Realized
we had nothing left
to say,
and with nothing left to do for
Her
But to give her heart away,
to the wild chaos freedom
she's always craved.
The chaotic wild freedom
of a world
that needs to be saved.
I craved it too,
back then,
the chaos, and the license to rave,
and I used to think it made
us strong, wise, and brave,
when all we really were,
were just
enthralled by shadows
On the walls of a cave.


It will help hearts
                                                 heal,
hers and mine together,
when we finally
    
                                                 walk away.

She and I still talk from time to time
When the wind is static
And the weather's fine,
When the moon is blue,
And the stars align.
When theres nothing to do
But to look back
and find,
She and I together, were never
very compatible,
in love,
yet far too compatible
in war.

Peace.
Processing a breakup in poem form. Troubled lovers who were better off as friends, but with a lot of unfriendly baggage that could never be forgotten. Though nothing unforgivable occured between us, it was too much that needed forgiving for one relationship to bare.
Adam Schmitt Feb 2022
Like,
the truth of it hits you first,
And then afterwards
you're like: "Wait,
                
what does that mean?"
Just a lil morsel
Adam Schmitt Dec 2020
Some evil walks alone
with a cold heart beat
and a face of bone.
Some evil walks in threes
with a trembling laugh
and with eyes full of glee.
Some evil wears a kindly face
in the street-light chaos
it tempts your full embrace.
Some evil rings a hollow bell
in the whirlwind alleys
on the roads to hell.
Some evil keeps a cool head,
some evil lies in your bed.
Some evil is a ticking clock
lulling you to sleep
with your mind unlocked,
and, while you rest amid
its Mercury lies,
it spreads its wings
and drowns your cries.
Some evil walks alone
with a cold heart beat
and a face of bone.
some rhyming poetry about evil and its various forms.
Adam Schmitt Feb 2022
We're living a Dangerous Life,
tiptoeing on the Edge of a Knife.
What will come and take you in
The End?
Will it come from Behind
Or from Around the Next Bend?

Are We Here,
Really Here
Now?
...
The Everpresent Present

The Eternal,
The Undifferentiated,
dao
...
The Way of the Eagle
The Way of the Sun
The Way of the sweat
of the Toiling One.
The Way of the World,
The Way of The Track,
The Way of the Scorpion who rode
                                                    the Frog's back...

The Ways of Old We've left Behind
                          The Ways of New We must  
Now design...

The Laws of the Jungle
And the Laws of Gods
and Men.
The Laws of Those Whose Land
We're In.
The Laws of Physics and
The Laws of Time.
                   The laws of lawyers and
                                                      of Organized   Crime.

The Uncaused Cause,                                   

...

                 ­                   And                                  The Uneffected Effect.

The Unpolished Flaws,
And the Unfinished Project.

The Unwritten Rules and
The Unspoken Code.
The Unwitting Fools and
The Untraveled Road.

The Final Frontier,
And the Promise it gives...
The Things We Create
and the Life That Outlives...

The Dawn of the Century,
The Dusk of Mankind.
The birth of Something New,

Of a limitless Mind
                                              
                              Or is it really New?
Or was It done before?

And who is
the Ultimate Authority                          
on the Universe's lore?

And is Novelty
all that we aim to adore?
What about the Nothingness that came from
Before?
Did it have some Great Big Colorful Blob to explore?
Did We sunder the Stasis
forevermore?
...
Is there One God,
or an Infinitude?
...
What does it mean
to Truly Be

"The Dude?"

Or
Maybe the Many make up the One,
And from the One All
Things flow?
...
Have these Thoughts been Thought before?
How am I to know?
And
How about We Just Be
Good to Each Other
And
Help Each Other grow?
Just freshly written this morning. It is what it is. Depending on what your definition of is is
Adam Schmitt Nov 2023
It happened because we let it happen.

It was made to happen and it did.

Because it happened to happen

we have to have more things happen

in order for the sum of all these
  
        happenings to be
                       advantageous to us.

Bottom line,

it happened, and now we happen to be what's happening.

It's an ongoing process,
   what's happening, and it can't cease now. Not for any reason.

Now is not the time
for anything else
       to happen but what
is happening.

What's happening now is unable
to not-happen because of all the happenings
    leading up to this
          unfortunate happenstance. Here
we, logically, happen.

If a hospital happened to be
    obliterated  
    as a result, it was only an

insignificant,

concurrent happening,

not our primary intention,

but it was necessary to happen.

If the children happened to get slaughtered, it was necessary to happen.

We have a right to have it happen and
                                  have it
keep happening,

   even if we made it happen
                          
                                   first.
Meh, just some words.
Adam Schmitt Oct 2017
No word of comfort
was given as he and she
said one more goodbye

Like a microbiologist, studious.
He cranes his neck and gaze,
and sifts through a garbage can

Full and misshapen bags clank after him.
His emergency fund
is lighter than it looks

The toilet, rebellious in my apartment today.
It's far too soon
to find this funny

Alert and darting eyes look past the drunken crowd
towards the swinging door,
and towards his phone, which remained still

The empty light shined on
pavement, but it didn't shine
on that for which I waited.

She batted her eyes and lied to me seductively.
Excited to pretend to believe her,
Alcohol and the dim light helps.

The midnight dew on this street glistens,
and the subway's winds mutely hum.
A girl scurries with her silent keys

I carved my name
in her wooden leg.
She didn't forgive me later.

With his endless arrows
Cupid amuses his narrow mind.
He's having his fun shooting blind.
Adam Schmitt Oct 2017
Beyond the reach of rage and rhyme
outside the scope of solid time
between the phases of a waxing mind
inside the seeds of chaos.

Within the grasp of you or me
between two rivers that reach no sea
under the shade of the burning tree
along the bridge you walk across.
Adam Schmitt Oct 2017
My good mind is in the basement
lost amid the rocks
Buried under skeletons
and ******* in 13 knots

— The End —