What lies in the future?

A statue of a grandson
Unbeknownst to my grandmother
Sound asleep under her covers

I am not seen
In the public often,
I avoid sunlight,
And sleep in a coffin.

Your stereotypical vampire.




Originally written 2/15/15
Revised 11/30/16

Never stood
A chance
At romance,
So you will never
See me dance.

I'm just a man
With cold hands, or

Better yet cold feet,
If a woman were
To approach me.



© 2016 Brandon Antonio Smith

You are without belongings,
Not belonging.

The long while
Longing,

Burning,
Until you
Disintegrate.



© 2016 Brandon Antonio Smith

Sleep does not seem to
Be an adequate remedy
For my lethargy.

I long for the deepest slumber;
A coma's freedom.
Rest not only for my eyes,
But for my conscience.


(c) 2016 Brandon Antonio Smith

My wish for public
Recognition is idle.
Victorious loser
And lost victor
Should be my
Only titles.


(c) 2015 Brandon smith

Little has been made
Of the hurtling calendar.
Countless days masturbated
Into oblivion.
I'm supposed to
Have my life together,

Like all my accomplished
Peers who are doing
Well for themselves,
Bachelor degrees and
Promising careers,
Absolutely deserving
Of envious applause

From a coddled child
Who has yet to evolve into
A fully functional adult.


(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith

After taking a phone call,
My nosy ears overheard
An incident involving a
Female coworker flirting
With a male coworker.
Rather, she was joking
Around with him
Out of boredom.

He said he had a wife,
And she asked if he would
Allow her to be his mistress.
The man made a complaint
To a supervisor, and she
Was moderately reprimanded.

The one accused did not
Think he would take
It so seriously.


I cannot help but think
He would not have felt
Offended if he found her
Attractive, no matter how
Supposedly devout he is to his wife.
If anything it would have
Flattered his ego,

And if it was vice versa
I believe the same
Principle would apply.
The paradoxical predictability
Of Human subjectivity.


(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith

I walk a few blocks
Or so to the bus stop,
On my way to work,
Every morning,
Except for Tuesdays
And Wednesdays.

Each time,
A motionless possum
With a ****** mouth
Greets me, as he lays
Comfortably on his hard bed.

Each time,
Becoming more
And more impersonal.

A full coat of fur
Replaced with a
Grey mushy mass.
The undisputed fate
Of all living beings.

My possum friend,
Will not be the only
One who does not
Leave a legacy behind.



(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith

Cheers to us I'll say,
Even towards the obvious end.

Fashionably spelled with
Acrylic resin across my skin
As a daily reminder,
As if I would forget
Beauty's creator.

Your power of alchemy
First revealed to me
As a warped hole inside
A 6th grade English
Composition book.

The absence of friendship
Invoked your name.
You've epitomized
Loyalty ever since,
My work testifies to it.
I couldn't be any
More grateful.


(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith

No words can fully
Describe you and I.
Not one, not five.
Not an infinite amount.

Words are
Never enough.
There is always
More to be said.
A person is always
Beyond definition..


(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith

Guilt can compel you to
Bow before Suicide's doorsteps.
A godly man named Christ
Cannot provide me with
The luxury of redemption.

I am on my own.
The dead end sign ahead
Is inscribed with all that
I have done wrong.

(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith

Whenever someone asks
What is wrong with me,
I am tempted to
Say in response,
"..Many things.."

(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith

I am a wound that
Has never been stitched,
And remain as untouchable
As a ghost--- as a wart.


(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith

I cannot tell--
Whether you are
Walking towards me
Or walking away from me.

Every hello entails a farewell--
No one can avoid its inevitability,

But I have always
Been an isolated isle,
A timorous turtle withdrawn
Into the shelter of my shell,
Indigent of affection.


Written 5/30/2015
(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith

Who she referred
To as a best friend,
Was quickly disposed of,
Like a breathless cigarette.

The value in
Him once seen,
Was easily forgotten.

He's her best exile..


(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith

I don't go outside often.
I avoid the sunlight,
And sleep in a coffin.

Your stereotypical vampire,
This is another sob story
For a ritual campfire.
Not an individual
To be admired,

But how I long to be
Blown into the nose
Of fame like *******
With no shame.

I'd be another meteorite
To crack under the spotlight,
Diagnosed with blocked sight

At a dead end
As inspiration deadens
And the debt of regret sets in.
Nothing would be more pleasant.

(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith

There's one question
In particular I despise:
What's new?

Because I am pressured
To explain how different
My life has become.

I rather not
Admit its bin has
Overflowed with
Redundant files.

  You will scowl when I say,
"For me, every day is a slight
Variation of what has preceded.
There's nothing new to mention."
A conversation repellent for sure.

(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith

All I have
Is paper,
And a pen,
And a dearth
Of friends.

(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith

"I have turned around twice with my eyes sealed
and the woods were white and my night mind
Saw such strange happenings, untold and unreal
And opening my eyes, I am afraid of course
to look-this inward look that society scorns
Still, I search these woods and find nothing worse
Than myself, caught between the grapes and thorns."
Anne Sexton, Kind Sir-These Woods

Examine the looking glass
And confront the sleep-deprived coward,
Who wastes away his hours
In a forsaken tower.

Uncomfortably sporting skin I deprecate,
The skin of a hypocrite I've endeavored to escape.
Hankering for an empathetic reader to
Not pass these words by,
Because by circumstance, they can relate.

What state of mind would an artist
Be in without an audience?

One that is unfulfilled, starving, and jarring,
His or her work habitually
Unnoticed in enveloped darkness,
Then discovered a millennium later
Like a caveman's carvings.

But I am hardly an artist,
And that which is inducing your eyes
To sway left to right is not worthy
Enough to be classified as a work of art.
I am certain my mediocrity has worsened thus far,
Or it may be that I'm simply playing a card.

Either way, I would not blame
The aforementioned, hypothetical reader
For not making it this far.
My apologies, the blueprint I had in mind,
In the process of writing,
Became unintelligibly marred,
Like an optimistic womb-man
Relinquishing a newborn
From her blood-splattered ******.

A month or two ago, my oldest brother Tay
Directed a question towards me.
He inquired as to whether or not I loved myself.
I was ashamed to give him an earnest answer.
Yes I could have lied, but a lie only does so much concealing....
I have said too much already,
And I realize what you're reading is much too revealing,
Loathsome and lonesome as I am...

For Anna, poetry was primarily
A psychological exorcism of inner demons,
And for me it's the same.
I also throw parties for them,
Which are organized by someone very close to me,
He goes by Pity.

It's possible that he has inspired
The spontaneous, salty droplets of water
Emerging from my eyes while I sleep,
Explaining why I've occasionally awoken with damp cheeks.
His most cherished companion is a former Christian
Hell-bent on personal redemption.
It's quite easy to see how my interdependent desires,
Thoughts, and actions are in continual contradiction.

I dabbled in a taboo I'd never thought I'd stoop to,
And consequently I'm confronted with
The stigma I've been reduced to.
I pursued a thrill until it
Transformed into an obsession,
Now I glance at the looking glass,
Unable to bear my own presence.



Originally written in 2013
Revised in 2014


(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

She quenches her thirst with
The tears of the inhabitants
Of sinkholes, claims them,
And gives birth to them anew.
Exhaling the winter wind, the
Scalding embers of December.

No one knows her name,
But you can confide in her.
Share your disarray, she will
Rectify you with her rhetoric.


She's seductive like suicide,
While I am as hung as a noose.
An irresistible demon, a potter
Shaping your every desire, a puppeteer
Manipulating the strings attached to your limbs.
Hailing from the same realm as Shang
Tsung, mortal anguish empowers her.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

I open the door for you
To be perceived as polite.
I don't brag because
Humility buys prestige.
I've earned virtue.

Why lie when instead I
Can wear the truth
As an honorary badge?
I donate portions of my wealth
To charitable organizations, so that
Everyone will deem me a great person.
I've earned virtue.

I obey all of the commandments
To receive God's unconditional love.
I observe each and every precept,
Climbing a ladder towards the sage's status.
I've earned virtue.

I serve the community to woo
Universities and potential employers.
I'm a law abiding citizen
Because I fear imprisonment.
I've earned virtue.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

I can never compensate for the poems I have misplaced,
Yet I proceed to shed sincere ink upon an empty canvas,
and revert towards elusive answers.
I once again resort to the preferred instrument,
And stumble into a liberating trance.

However, genuine introspection often
Unearths wretched recurring recollections,
That have served as the creative source
For previous poetry collections,
Some of which cannot be read
Without a deep sense of dread,
Hence I flinch from acknowledgment instead.

How disoriented am I?
As disoriented as 20 year old Kimberly
Her derelict of a son is an embodiment
Of her youth blues memories.

How aimless it must be to venture
Amidst the sanctum of stagnation.
It was not long before even the architect
Began to disdain his own laborious creation.

Why wouldn't he?

He was a fool to build
A foundation out of complacency.
The structure is able to endure
Since it thrives off of a perpetual tragedy
Of self-defeating beliefs, lascivious senses,
And misguided aspirations.

Unfortunately, whoever it houses
Collapses out of utter exasperation.
An inevitable predicament I predict
Will confront me as soon as I deteriorate mentally.

The sanctum itself testifies to an aphorism
I recount hearing during a melancholic plight:
Truthfully, throughout the ages,
Fallibility has always been
Among humanity's playwrights.

6/18/13

(c) 2013 Brandon Antonio Smith

My once serene friend
Lashed at me relentlessly
With blue black turbulence.
Before doing so,
He bellowed a roar,
Foreshadowing
Betrayal, and doom.

Originally written in 2007
Revised 11/25/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

I did not sleep
Well yesternight.
Weary were my eyes.
Guilt taunted me
Until the morning,
And called me
A disappointment.

I did not sleep
Well yesternight.
I could not comfort
You in your state of fear.
I am sorry.

Originally written in 2010
Revised 11/23/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Little Jamar raised
His voice authoritatively,
"I'm a man, and
Men don't cry!"

Jordan grabbed him
By the shoulders,
And admonished him,
"Men don't cry..",
He exclaimed.
"Boy who told you that lie?
Men do cry sometimes."
Of course they do.

The lot is vacant,
My lot surrounds
The pavement.
We are not craven.

We'll smash and bash,
A thrill for me,
A thrill for us all.
The authorities are called.
Objects aren't built to last,
Why does it matter at all?

We're on the run,
Fugitives of a chase,
Before imprisonment comes,
We'll mutilate the place.

Originally written 11/12/09
Revised 11/22/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Fearless lovers of the night,
Ruled by everlasting hunger,
Inseparable like life and death.

God's glowing
White eye watches them,
But innocence and guilt
Are of no importance.
Judgment only pertains
To the fruitful fluid
Your body harbors,
A delicacy.

Their fangs will
Free you and I.
I am beholden
To them.
Their fangs will
Free you and I,
And the night
Will become
Our playground.

Originally written 12/6/08
Revised 11/19/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

I dreamed about you for what
May have been the first time.
You were explaining something
To me, preparing to leave.
I held you close against me,
And we played footsie.

I wrote a song and a poem.
I told my brother Jordan
That it was unlike
Anything I've ever written.
How proud of it I was.

You hoped for a new life
Outside of Florida.
Now you have it.

I never wanted
You to leave.
I couldn't do anything  
To stop you, or
Persuade you to stay.

You said we should
Stay in touch
Through letters.
The birthday card
You sent me last year
Is in my drawer, still.

I was a companion,
And a lousy mate,
Not a boyfriend.
I could have been.

I could have
Taken that title.
We could have
Played the dating
Game together.
We could have
Risked losing.

I chose to wait for a
More ideal candidate.
She never arrived,
As far as I know.

We had a few
Heated arguments.
The last stemmed
From my ignorance
In an area I believed
I should have been
Knowledgeable in.

I have a tendency
To be an ignorant
Know it all,
To have difficulty
With simple things.

You wanted to
Meet my grandma,
and I was afraid that
It would not go well,
Mainly due to the
Color of your skin.

Your mother encouraged
Me to talk to her about it,
To divulge to her what
Your friendship meant to me.

I decided against it.
At least you briefly
Met my mother who
You thought was nice.

I was angry when
You broke undesirable
News to me, in spite of it,
I would have never
Abandoned our friendship.

Nearly two years later,
And I still have
To be informed,
It's been long overdue.
I know I've already
Said this before,
But I will be soon.

I don't know if you'll ever read this,
And I don't know if I'll ever see
Or hear from you again.

About a year ago,
Some man with an ulterior motive called,
Took it upon himself to take advantage
Of your orchestrated guilt, and you
Allowed him to intimidate and manipulate you

Slow in catching on to his surreptitious tactics,
Would have been slower if it weren't for two,
You know who I'm alluding to,
You felt that all your crown
Needed was a dunce cap.

Heed to the lesson: never surrender to
Anyone or anything out of intimidation.

Originally written 10/31/13
Revised 11/16/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

A bridge lies ahead
For both of us to cross,
Whenever we happen to
Cross each other's thoughts.

Will you meet me half-way?
Answer yes and
I'll give you my hand,
And confess the poetry
I dedicated to you in discretion.

Point me in the direction of your time,
Anything more I need not demand of you.
To be sure, blame I am due,
For I am guilty of attempting to reinforce
That which connects my world to yours,
Regardless of its inherent potential to break asunder.

I fear if such a calamity should occur,
Our backs will be turned,
For the rest of our lives,
Which I am not ready for.

11/13/13

(c) 2013 Brandon Antonio Smith

I want reverence and paradise.

I attest to formerly
Conspiring to become a sage.
Chastise me you might,
But observe the foible,
It is not idiosyncratic of me.

Sages are misinterpreted by many
As models to be emulated
For the sake of love and happiness.
The real sage is the seasoning
To be incorporated from
Rebel Truth's fecund message.

You, the seasonal visitor,
Let go of your habitual luggage,
And traverse the transit.

Originally written 9/27/11
Revised 10/21/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Disarm those in power,
The charlatans of politics.
Discover who you are.
Don't be fooled by mercenaries,
And adversaries,
Don't submit to their scare tactics.
Revolt.

Originally written 4/8/11
Revised 10/21/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

It's been a while since
I've thought about you.
To be frank, I should have
Written this a while ago.
Well, here goes.......

My brothers and I
Didn't know you
Like we wished to,
You didn't know us
As much as you wished to.
We only saw you every so often.

Our father would park
His dark green Expedition,
And open its doors.
We paced the hallways
Of the musty,
Egg white hospital,
It was a family mission.

Year after year you were
Constrained to a hospital bed,
Blessing us with your
Huge smile every time
We were there with you,
Even then it was
Still difficult to
Fight back a grimace.

You consistently asked us
What we wanted for Christmas,
Saying that as soon as
You left the hospital
You would get it for us.
The older I became
The more I realized that
It probably wasn't going to happen.

I could see that you enjoyed our company,
I knew we rejuvenated your spirit,
Despite the fact you were moving
Closer and closer towards death,
Then you died of diabetes.
I had no idea how to react to it.

Could your life
Have been prolonged?
What shames me
Is that I never truly
Cried or grieved,
I wasn't even at your funeral.
Was I indifferent?
I never spoke to my father
About how your death
Affected him.

Ever since he and my mother split
We've been estranged,
And my life has never been the same.
My memory is such a haze,
But I do sort of remember
Sitting in your apartment complex,
Staring at some peanuts and sea shells
On a mahogany like table.

I don't remember if you told me to,
Or if it was by impulse,
But I held one of the
Beautiful seashells in my hand,
Placed my ear to its open space,
And I swear I could
Hear the entire Atlantic Ocean,
I would savor the pleasant sound.


You suffered
During the last moments
Of your life,
But you're alive in me, in us,
Centered in our blood.
I love you Ruby Wilson.

Originally written 1/26/14
Revised 10/20/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Late last night
Some sadistic succubus cursed me,
I entertained a horrific vision.

An enraged young man held a grudge
Like a passionate mother holds a new born.
The grudge inspired the shedding of my blood,
Murdered before I realized,
That I could no longer conceptualize
What I was.

Was what I saw suggesting that
The proceeding day will bring a new pain?

If not a new pain for me,
It could be for someone out there,
Somewhere out there,
  An incarnation
Of lost generations.

Originally written 4/29/11
Revised 10/20/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Memorization is not education.
Success is a fixed point,
Success is not happiness.
Fame is not acceptance.

Your destiny is not defined by any book,
Unless you allow it to be.
Books do not define your destiny,
Unless you allow them to.

What happens beyond death can not be known,
It can not be known what happens beyond death.

I am whoever I am,.
And you are whoever you are.

Originally written 7/26/11
Revised 10/20/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Meaningless and insignificant,
Superbly impermanent,
The avaricious
Materialism of men..

"Progression" you say?
It's a squandering premise.

  Break through the stimulus
To produce a new genesis.
Break apart and break away,
To produce a new genesis.
Break apart and break away,
But be not the nemesis.

Originally written 7/21/11
Revised 10/20/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

A black ball point pen.
A crumpled pad.
Words rolled from
A hand of birth
Like a pair of die,
Aware of why,
And what and such and such.

I have adrenaline cheeks,
They rush and blush.
Dukkha's bulging bullet eyes
Are at times too much to duck duck
Goose mother comes to
To try my luck for a dollar buck.

In disappointment hear me holler "****!"
Followed by "god ******!"
If Chuck is stuck,
Why won't he cram it?
I must be Chuck,
Because I don't understand it.

Originally written 1/14/11
Revised 10/20/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

We aren't always safe,
Safe from ourselves.

If I was always safe
Then I wouldn't be afraid of danger.

If life was always sweet,
I wouldn't evade displeasure.

Life isn't life,
If you dream of demise.

It only takes thought to realize...

Originally written 1/4/11
Revised 10/20/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Grinning plastic face,
The parts of puppets
Used for the sole
Purpose of propaganda.
Papa's only way to
Put a smile on his
Spoiled daughter's face.

The world's toys
Are played with,
Figure heads debate.
Religious fanatics
Can scare you into
Thinking you're going to
Burn for an eternity,
Oh well then.
The Godhead
Condemns Lucifer.

Psychiatrist,
Am I psychlogically well?
Please tell me
Whether or not
My results indicate
That I need to be
Dependent upon
Your medication.

Originally written 1/21/11
Revised 10/21/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Do I see you for who you truly are?
Or am I basing judgement off
Of your appearance,
While I don't even know you.

I would be lost for words
If you were to ask me who I am.
I could tell you my name,
I could give you a brief
Or detailed description,
I could tell you what I do,
But that wouldn't do
Your question justice, would it?

I have a question for you,
Are you really living or only surviving?
Please don't be offended.
Ask me the same question,
I won't be offended.
Am I really living or only surviving?
Maybe each and every one
Of us is denying
The blunt truth we can't control.
Embrace the pain
As it bleeds through your soul

Introduce yourself
Before you go
Or before I leave,
Only because it was important to me.

What's the difference between goodbye and hello,
When greeting a man or woman you don't know?

Originally written 1/14/11
Revised 10/19/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

The fierce thunder grumbles,
The marshmallow clouds precipitate.
Faded while sober,
Subjective perceptions of reality.

I am very fond of words,
As everyone should know,
But words have meaning
Without meaning.
They're silent parrots.

Originally written 1/15/11
Revised 10/19/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

I have yet to manifest all I am,
Like the prolonged discovery
Of a well known secret.

Here's a free grand tour
Around here special guest,
I would very much like it
If you stuck to my side
Like a sidekick.
I, the heroic tour guide
Of so many surreal wonders,
And darling oh my--

The setting sun sat beside
Two bottomless candles whistling.
Before you knew it,
Their identities were indistinguishable,
In their fervid resplendence.


Frank motives are held back,
Control is so fallibly crass.
What would happen if the
Suppressor were to collapse?

We would expand,
Like we toiled for.

Originally written 2/27/11
Revised 10/19/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Can there be a hybrid
of stay and go?
Stay and go,
Whichever allows.

You don't follow directions well,
Do you?
Well, do you?
No, I have no common sense.

Do whatever you choose to,
It is what it is.

Originally written 2/10/11
Revised 10/19/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Keep your thoughts..

Please wait outside the door,
They were born yesterday, weren't they?
So they knew they would die tomorrow,
And begin the transformation?

Most likely yes,
I must say,
Anything could be a possible title
For a poem, short story, novel,
Play, movie, or album,
Ejected from the womb.
Some are easily forgotten,
Others are spectacularly memorable,
I prefer the ladder meant for the latter.

The prophet's prediction
Couldn't be any more false.

The wholesome one of incomplete parts
Never began at the start.

Give me your thoughts..

Originally written 2/17/11
Revised 10/19/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

I will remain,
I remain here,
The remains of star dust.

What are my
Ears telling me?
Mater, Pater,
What did you do?



Originally written 2/26/11
Revised 10/19/14
Revised 12/4/16

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Do you know how ataraxia tastes?

I change like places.
Color and color the movement
"I was sure that I was human",
Thought the kaleidoscope.

Can't be explained,
I just am what i am like Dada.
Ridicule won't bother the gypsy

Would you like to hear turquoise?
Life is beautiful.

An unknown philosopher formed a rock band,
Shortly after talking to Chance the Gardener.

Visit me in a caravan,
The quest starts in there,
Too few enigmatic passengers.

Originally written 3/30/11
Revised 10/21/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Minuscule cockroaches creak
Conspicuously around the crude crumbs
On the dusty kitchen counter,
And tadpoles squirm in the cremated creek.

The porridge poured itself
For the poor stray kitten,
Who was too spritely
For eureka's euthanization,
Triumphant in trespassing
The proximity of the porch.

Meanwhile, the revolving rover
Imitated the raunchy rocket ships,
Launching like fervent fertility
Interceding September's secret,
Sacred admirers of ethereal pyres.
The sepulchre's soma
Spread from the peach's center
Like the terrific thighs of a virile *****.

Jurassic travels ,
Machines running on ancient carcass,
Annulling the terra firma
Of its aloe vera-like virginity,
And courtesans adorned with jewels,
Pretending to be Aphrodite?

Just as Jupiter does,
Joy wears covetous rings..


Originally written 8/12/11
Revised 10/19/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Ink splatters all over my hands,
I won't give it a chance to sink in.

Fully aware up until this second...

You avert bad omen,
But I desperately need
It for french toast.
Raise your glasses,
I'll say cheers.

Let's be consoled.
Cure your fear,
It make me nauseous.

What does creativity
Have to do with logic?

Self-conscious ***** whales
Buy **** Sapiens Sapiens perfume,
And at the graveyard Lara Croft raids tombs.
Go hallucinate like the hippie zombie,
Meeting doomsday soon.

Originally written 3/23/11
Revised 10/18/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

The burst of energy flashes----
Breaking into the shy night
Like an abrasive lightning strike.
Arising..arousing...
Hyped...

Originally written 8/2/11
Revised 10/18/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith