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Kane Smith May 6
hobos blow their noses while boxcars roll on slowly
an image of a hard time past.  gathered crops for
harvest.
And in earnest I have collected roses
smiled like dead heads left baking in the sun.
And in the dead of night in bed clutching my gun.
i find sleep fitfully in small doses.
Kane Smith May 5
We got hundreds of wide smiles that unwrapped would stretch for miles all for sale at the low low price of 19.95.
Deep within, where they are kept, inside the well of Jesus Wept
(along with all the money spent) forged in darkness.
secret agenda magic hands weave the spell on demand.
  Jan 2018 Kane Smith
Francie Lynch
____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­______________
Finally. I'd been striving for a one word poem. After achieving it, I wanted a no word poem. Here it is. I guess this is no longer mine, but ours.

"The Invisible Poem" was selected as the Daily.
I'm humbled... to say nothing.
But I believe a response is necessary.
To all those who liked, loved and commented, I say thank you. I've read all you've written, and most of it is very creative and complimentary.
There are others, detractors, who claim "*******," etc.
Well of course, this only begs the question, "What is poetry?"
I can't answer that. I've written on it. But what I do know is what poetry should do. Its purpose.
If a poem should arouse emotions, bad or good, make people think, have people want to write, to express themselves (and I believe I'm on the mark here), then, anything can be a poem. Even a page with lines on it.
Thanks again to all the readers.
And if you're still *******, don't attack me... go after Elliot. :)
  Jan 2018 Kane Smith
laura-jessica
so happy
so happ
so hap
so ha
so h
so
s
su
sui
suic
suici
suicid
suicida
suicidal
edit: thank you for all your feedback, it is nice to hear support as well!
  Jan 2018 Kane Smith
Rob Rutledge
Clear skies are often coldest,
Tempests' temper seems subdued.
Sunlight skims the tiles of rooftops,
Stops.
Savours,
Admires the view.

The sky was never blue.
Obsidian haze and gunmetal days
Light the life we choose.
Blackened,
Slightly bruised.
Broken yet not dismayed.
Too long we have been walking,
Proud in our shroud of the grey.

My brother, my teacher,
My foe and my friend.
Our ghosts shall speak
Once more at the end.
Kane Smith Jan 2018
Fix
I needed a fix so I fixed it now I'm all fixed up.
You see it?
It's over there
Staring

Glaring eyes night owls hooting delight surprise
This is not rational.

It was never meant to be.
Kane Smith Sep 2017
Ever notice things that no one else can see?
Don't tell em or they'll say your crazy.
And if you talk about me when I'm not around
The ghosts will come and tell me.
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