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Smit Apr 2018
And now here is my secret,
a very simple secret:

It is only with the heart
that one can see rightly;
what is essential is
invisible to the eyes.
  Apr 2018 Smit
Charles Bukowski
she's young, she said,
but look at me,
I have pretty ankles,
and look at my wrists, I have pretty
o my god,
I thought it was all working,
and now it's her again,
every time she phones you go crazy,
you told me it was over
you told me it was finished,
listen, I've lived long enough to become a
good woman,
why do you need a bad woman?
you need to be tortured, don't you?
you think life is rotten if somebody treats you
rotten it all fits,
doesn't it?
tell me, is that it? do you want to be treated like a
and my son, my son was going to meet you.
I told my son
and I dropped all my lovers.
I stood up in a cafe and screamed
and now you've made a fool of me. . .
I'm sorry, I said, I'm really sorry.
hold me, she said, will you please hold me?
I've never been in one of these things before, I said,
these triangles. . .
she got up and lit a cigarette, she was trembling all
over.she paced up and down,wild and crazy.she had
a small body.her arms were thin,very thin and when
she screamed and started beating me I held her
wrists and then I got it through the eyes:hatred,
centuries deep and true.I was wrong and graceless and
sick.all the things I had learned had been wasted.
there was no creature living as foul as I
and all my poems were
Smit Apr 2018
I possess no soul
I possess no mind
I am the wanderer
Of the dead forest
I am the black bird
Who sits on the highest branch
Of the empty tree
In the spring
I am the dead drunk
On the midtown subway pavement
That you cringe at
I breathe while the earth sighs
I sleep while the vultures cry
I walk around this dark town
Slow like an elephant
As you stare me with pity
I stare at you like a hawk
I carry a universe with me
I live your worst nightmare
I have a thorn
That carves devil’s stories
On my skin every second
I scream every night
My voice screeching like an eagle’s
But all you can hear is a whimper
My body trembles
My eyes are red with blood
Sweat drips from every
Inch of my skin
As I stand here
In front of you
Telling you this
I have lived through hell
But let the death be sweet

Smit Feb 2018
Her halos are created in silence
By his dark secrets and his dark passions
And in his chaos of thunder storms
She stands still
Like a fallen autumn leaf
In the cold waves and gusts of winds.

Smit Feb 2018
They say that the time never stops
But didn’t they tell you that I can even stop drops?
It’s me, the photograph, who’ll hold you
Till the time it gets better, even if the time flew
People say that I’m just a copy, just an ‘it’
But I’m capable of holding moments, making everything lit
I’ll make you remember those spring birds
I’ll make you cherish flowers of what you’ve heard
I’ll make you cry by those gestures so small
I’ll make you wonder by those abstracts you call
And I’ll make you feel a thing called love
And a thing called memory
And a thing called home
Cause it’s me, the photograph, who’ll hold you
Till the time it gets better, even if the time flew

18 Jan. 17
Smit Jun 2017
“The sad thing is,”*
          she said,
    *“the moment you start to miss someone, it means they’re already gone.”
  Jun 2017 Smit
Noah Ducane
Sadness is the wine of the soul
You, when looking down on me didn't know
How I've made mine perfect
Through many years

Pain that has every title,
Seeps like the rain to my roots
And gives me fear of nothing
But fear of feeling anything at all.

And I wait in the dark of life
Still like in sleep
Until the hour
All clocks stop.

When with you,
All clocks stop.
When with you,
Sadness grows
In saying goodbye.

Four simple words I'll give:
I love you.
Still like in sleep
Until the hour
All clocks stop.
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