This plain Monday seemed to be fine
Except I didn't recognize the bright beam
Floating near me in the blue berry sky.
I gazed at this peculiar sight
As the soaring machinery opened its great mouth.

Before I could fathom anything, I was lifted off my feet,
and ****** in like a baby bird consuming an earthworm.
I could no longer hear my own thoughts,
Only the squeaking and mumbling of Stoic strangers.
The pace of my pulse was light, but somehow rapid.

They gently lay me down in front of a foreign device,
A metallic blur to human eyes.
All of these creatures were sexless, and small in stature,
Despite being overbearingly powerful.
One of them knew my name, "Brandon Antonio Smith, this is the moment,
Your life will be changed for the better, forever it will." It kissed my forehead,
Its aromatic saliva remained behind, and eased my afflicted mind.

Then the figure took off all my clothing ,
Raised the instrument, and pierced it through my belly,
While saying "You will lose the knowledge of tears, laughter, happiness,
Rage, love, and all your memories. You are now one of us."  
Eerily, discomfort was not sensed at all.

They dropped me off from
Their space craft, back to Earth, and took off.
This Monday was not plain,
I will never be the same.
What they saw as peace was my nightmare.

Originally written 11/15/10
Revised 9/24/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Place your turmoil
Into a narrow, empty container,
Grab a lid and seal it shut,
Let it remain there indefinitely,
And then think nothing of it
As an amnesiac would do.

4/22/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Now that up is down,
That would be me,
The fusion incites a composition for the muses.

Aren't your ears intended to listen to
The cherubs and behemoths on your shoulders?

So much further up,
So much further down,
Emerge and sink,
Sink and emerge,
But come out human.

Originally written 11/10/10
Revised in 2014

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

The pieces connect,
Scrawled on a nonexistent map.
I must protect the pieces,
I vow to comprehend and understand them.

A most mysterious mentality
Appears to be a gravel road extending past houses and caves,

Inciting my foot steps.

Originally written 11/5/2010
Revised in 2014

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

I got nothin.
It's sad, this aching to write and write,
But the words coming out sound so contrite.

Like that.

I stand up, stare down at my page.
I see the lines, those imaginary borders
between my stubborn head,
and my bleeding heart.

I pray that the division will have a remainder.

That forgotten piece, the inconsequential.

Because the remainder is the thing-
That space between there and here,
Where time sits in a chair,
staring at its own hands.

That no man's land where eraser crumbs
become mountains worth climbing.

Where the fairy tales of our own beginnings gather breath,
Spreading wings over the valleys of our truth.