What is a "soul"?
Seriously, what is it?
Ambiguity obviates all simple and complex definitions.

If "souls" do exist,
I suppose my "soul"  is transmogrifying,
Transfusing the screen.
The key is Transition
Of a remote position.

Maybe someday a scientific physician
Will invent a tracking device to track its travelling distance?
Sounds sort of like a Stephen Spielberg novel
The genre of science fiction
Or is it?

7/18/11

(c) 2011 Brandon Antonio Smith

So I'm just sitting down
Beside a stranger
Playing his guitar beautifully,
Meditating on the idea of how we
As human beings can only go so far.

As far as you can go
Exceeds as far as you can see.

I'm physically near-sighted.
I'm not sure if it's because of that long ago accident
When a tsunami of gasoline soaked my eyes,
But everything far is a water color blur to me,
Is it in fact the same for you?


There are addicts on the curb,
Abandoned dogs without a home.
How did they get there?
I can guess and assume,
Without the slightest clue.

I'm as anxious as an alcoholic
In a state of withdrawal.
Did I fall from Heaven like Lucifer?

Slightly overweight
Then slightly anorexic.
I've thought of less lately,
Less of fate.

Struggled with labels,
"That kid is anti-social."

As soon as
Words *** like fertile *****,
You regret the consequence's backlash.

Why am I even bringing up **** from the past?
  Don't get me wrong,
My story is not a complete sob story.

Anything I hold back,
I will admit and confess and address,
Always.

Originally written 2/4/11
Revised 10/15/14

(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

Cast out entirely this time around.
There's a beautiful world waiting,
But it's easy to be blinded by what you think is beautiful in a beautiful world.*

In the dark for so long.
The retina I own captured false images
Of what i once  believed in.
So much effort stored in a mirage,
lodged in doubtful recollections.

I want no sympathy,
I can only evolve through the chasing of symphonies.
Villainous, aren't you?
The conflict is the enemy.

I'll do away with this blame game,
You're just so awfully gifted at how you play.
I was the warmhearted prey

Fooled into what appears to be defeat,
Due to stupidity.
I saw what I wanted to see,
And clearly my vision was wrong.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 10/31/10
Revised 9/27/14)

I'm like a pill,
Because if you swallow my well-being,
You will be relieved of your worries, sicknesses, and ailments,
But too much of anything isn't beneficial for any of us,

And too much of me
Could leave your tongue escaping from your mouth,
And the irises of your eyes attempting to meet your brain,
Which is why you should take me
Within considerate reason,
And not take me for granted.

Swallow me whole,
Wash away your pride,
Feelings of me running deep inside you.
I swallow you,
I swallow you whole,
I swallow you down.

You are the perfect pill for my ills.
I can see the comely contents of your character
Labeled on a container,
And as soon as it becomes empty,
You will see me rushing
To get a refill of your grace.

Ever since you were prescribed to me on May 13th,
I've never listened to my doctors
Who assume to know
What is best for me.

I consume that dear, special, deep word
Like a space cadet of an overdose.

I need you within my reach,
I need your relief,
I need your reassurance,
I need you to care..

But what I need the most of from you,
Is your affection.

Originally written 7/2/11
Revised 10/15/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

The Brandon who was sure of a god is deceased,
But his memory is visible in my idealistic wish for one.
Who would not want a loving, personal god
Forgiving their wrongs and guiding them
Towards ever-lasting happiness?
Answer me..

No matter what you want,
In regard to matters of forgiveness and happiness,
You are on your own,
At least that's what I think.

I have to forgive myself,
Even if everyone else will refuse to do so.
Ugly and beautiful both describe me equally,
And these qualities apply to every
Other human being as well,
From the poor to the wealthy,
The atheist to the religious,
The prisoner to the police officer,
The terrorist to the president, and so on.

Failure to acknowledge this
Underscores moral supremacy,
And the over-simplification of humankind.
No war between Good and Evil is being waged,
And as far as happiness goes,
No man or woman can give it to you,
They can only supplement it.
It is not a plateau
To be permanently established,
It waxes and wanes like
The phases of the moon,
Tending to glow whenever you smile.

(c) 2013 Brandon Antonio Smith

9/20/13

His father reminded him of the giddy times,
As if he forgot them.
He does this habitually,
Implying that a lot has changed.
Of course, because today isn't yesterday
And the present isn't the past.
He wishes it was like before.
He can't recognize his son
As if he's wearing a mask.
Grew through adolescence without him
As he put on his mask.
He can't recognize him,
But he'll continue to remind him
That they are

Growing distant,
Without being literally far away,
It seems like it though.
Separated like fission,
And the miles grow and grow.

The true colors faded,
After they were shown.
The underlying tone of it all,
Segregated by a labyrinth of walls.

While we were wearing masks
We couldn't recognize each other,
While we were wearing masks
We couldn't recognize each other anymore.

Growing distant,
Without being literally far away,
It seems like it though.
Separated like fission,
And the miles grow and grow.

He remembers the connection he had with her,
As if she forgot about it.
He speaks of how spending time with her elated him,
Implying that he misses her.
Of course today isn't yesterday
And the present isn't the past,
But he wishes it was like before,
So he asks if they could return to what they once were,
He asks if they could return to what they once were.

They're growing distant
Without being literally far away,
It seems like it though.
Separated like fission,
And the miles grow and grow.

Separated like fission,
And the miles grow and grow,
The miles grow and grow.
It seems like it though.
Growing distant,
And the miles grow and grow,
The miles grow and grow,
Growing distant.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 12/1/10,
Revised 9/23/14)

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.

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

Solely roaming,
Solely flowing,
Slowly transcending,
Slowly ascending.

Where do those pretty wings belong?
On the sides of skulls.

Lifting our mind state,
Leading us
To the land of winged skulls.

There's a brain in a bowl who says so.

Only drifting
Behind gates with thee,
Receiving symbols.

Your eyes dilate,
Someone's head is hung over,
Bludgeoned by stones.

There's a brain in a bowl that says so.

Where do those pretty wings belong?
On the sides of skulls,

Lifting your mind state,
Leading you
To the land of winged skulls.

There's a brain in a bowl that says so.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 10/27/10
Revised 9/27/14)

What you've been waiting for.
The irresistible minerals of our afterlife
Awakened them from their recurring coma.

Radiation descended toward jagged terrain.

A deer was calcified.
I would be too if I was that genuine creature.
Pleading just pleading,
The impact depressed the earth,
Taking me down underground.
I'm outside of your eyes.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 12/4/10
Revised 9/24/14)

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

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 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

One day, a decade ago, I came home from school,
And instead of starting my homework,
I showed my grandmother the picture I drew,
And my grandmother Edna said to me,
"Bran, you have one big imagination."
I grinned and shrugged, replying
"Sorry Grandma, I can't help it"

She knows who she is....
And I think everyone knows where I'm coming from...

Like all naive lovers, I imagined a happily ever after,
But Aphrodite discovered that i'm a functional disaster
Sort of like what happened when Wendy met Casper?
Silly, I know,
Well at least I tried to capture a little laughter.

I imagine her name as the name of a virtuoso band.
I listen enthusiastically to the band play,
"Eat your heart out, eat your heart out."
Yes, she's a band-aid.

I've imagined attending the salmon church with her,
Even though I don't believe.
Still I would do that for my Desdemona,
"I will deny thee nothing."

I imagined us getting married at an altar,
The honeymoon would be on the moon weeping honey.
Three years later, we have Harmony, our daughter.

My imagination is wild,
Maybe it's too far out there,
Where the wild things are.

Isn't it true that before you make something happen
You have to imagine it happening first?
Something like a self-fulfilled prophecy,

In time we'll see.

One day I came home from Mount Olympus,
And instead of professing agape,
I showed Cupid this poem I wrote,
And Cupid said to me, "You have one wild imagination."
I shrugged, replying, " I can't help it."
Cupid smiled and said, "You have a romantic one also."

Originally written 5/17/11
Revised 10/24/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

To flirt with the twinkle of Virgo
And joke with the great body of the Atlantic,
Is to lustrate fertility; self-worth blossoms,
A great thing to occur.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 10/29/10
Revised 9/27/14)

My roots lie in the soil of the ground,
But my head is in the clouds.
Please don't ask me how now,
Just know that my head is in the clouds.

At night I wonder when the Sun will return to me,
Oh right, it will in the morning.
The atmosphere remains true to me.

it remains true to me, it remains true to me,
it remains.. true to me.
it remains true to me, it remains true to me,
it remains.. true to me.

My roots lie in the soil of the ground,
But my head is in the clouds.
Please don't ask me how now,
Just know that my head is in the clouds.

THE NEXT DIMENSION!, THE NEXT DIMENSION!
I'll be there.
THE NEXT DIMENSION!, THE NEXT DIMENSION!
Beyond the air.
THE NEXT DIMENSION!, THE NEXT DIMENSION!
Meet me there.

THE NEXT DIMENSION!, THE NEXT DIMENSION!
AN INTERNAL FLARE!!

My roots lie in the soil of the ground,
But my head is in the clouds.
Please don't ask me how now,
Just know that my head is in the clouds.

In the clouds now, in the clouds now,
Everyone is invited, everyone is invited.
In the clouds now, in the clouds now,
I won't deny it, no I won't deny it.

My roots lie in the soil of the ground.........

(c) 2010 Brandon Antonio Smith

10/1/10

Light-years north of the purple, zephyr dome.
The saccharine amulet is like euphoria
Buried below the wet soil of Utopian plains,
An aura born of  visual brilliance like the aurora borealis
Is this the homely orphanage for poetic spirits and souls?
The intuitive life- forms worthy of sempiternal light?

Tyrant Ignoramus's army is multiplying,
And assembling more power,
Lascivious like an extreme *******.

Certainty of survival? No, there is not,
Nervous like claustrophobic Nibbana.
Life-forces forced to test
The stability of the precipice.
Can balance be maintained?
Only for so long....

Loping for miles,
Exhausting it must be,
Their hooves must go on and on,
Heedless of stopping.

Past Ignoramus's Fortress,
Past the Alchemist's Bridge over yonder,
Light-years north of the purple, zephyr dome.
The saccharine amulet is like euphoria
Buried below the wet soil of the Utopian plains,
An aura born of visual brilliance like the aurora borealis.
This is the homely orphanage for poetic spirits and souls,
The intuitive life-forms worthy of sempiternal light.

Originally written 7/30/11
Revised 10/17/14

(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

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

(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith

I contrive to redefine the lines,
Equivalent to defying midnight skies.
Freedom is my bride,
Despite ignorance of a guide.
Why are my mental insides open wide?

What does my future hold?
Specify which road or ride,
And if so why?
You don't know why,
Because you aren't my guide,
And it's all up to me.
I'll pick the right time to arrive,
Alright.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 10/9/10
Revised 9/29/14)

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

Take a glimpse,
Let it linger like vapor.
Feed off its energy.
The human imagination is a nation,
Conquered only by dreamers.

It's a diversion and a refuge.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 10/30/10
Revised 9/27/14)

Incognizant of the excrement,
I'm the dozing tenant of advertised adversity.
I ignore the fact that the world now is like a toilet,
And I avoid it, I avoid it, I avoid it.

Boy, did you get exploited?
How could we know we're
No more than numerical exponents?
Can consolation prizes console him?
We're not aware of the ventriloquists
Or their true motives.

Popular perfume conceals
The stench from the load of,
Finite excrement that
The suited men sold us.
They told us that it would be beneficial,
Not an imposition on our self-image,
Pinocchio before he found
Out he was artificial.
Is the American Dream a reality?
Why did I hear a dissenter
Say it was superficial?

We must have missed something,
We see no issues.
Meanwhile, my Uncle Sam designated
You as the mental missile.


Originally written 5/25/11
Revised 10/15/14

(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

Amicable, the vibration,
Getting to the Eden.
Elements sanctify the hurt,
Bonded like super glue.
Educates the visualized future,
Symphonic orchestra at the concert.

Adjudicated, the sentiment,
Layering me luscious lucidity.
Evening the odds,
Fit for four hands.
Destiny decided to
Trade compassion and serenity.

Sincere, the revelation

Always and all ways.
Sorry is deeply sorry,
Even when mostly innocent.
Let me contribute to the

Symphonic orchestra at the concert.
Bond like super glue,
Cue my disclosure.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 12/9/10
Revised 10/2/14)

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

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

A ladder to climb,
A moral to sign.

Devour the lotus.
Mountains amounting to doubting,
How much further do we have to climb?
Further, go further,
But remember, it can be dangerous
Leaving all of the past behind.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 11/29/10
Revised 9/27/14)

This is my first poem,
I have no clue what to write,
But I will try.
I'm having my first child,
How will I provide for and nurture a life?

I have never been here before,
This is my first time.
There used to be a time,
When time didn't matter
To a multi-celled mass.

This is my last poem,
I still have no clue what to write,
But it will be easier this time for me.
This time around my eldest child
Must provide for and nurture a life.

I've been here many times before,
But this is my last time.
There was never a time
When time mattered to a multi-celled mass.

This is the first and last poem.

Originally written 4/26/11
Revised 10/16/14

(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

The thought of it horrifies me,
Even more so than what death entails,
It forces me to sporadically awaken.

I visualize myself taken away to a cold grotto,
Where I'm violated by strangers
And alienated, rather than uplifted,
For an unknown duration of time

I knew what might happen,
The consuming fervor,
My behavior will not be understood

Haven't I alienated myself all along?
Was it not I who voluntarily auditioned
For the infamous role of the outcast
As well as the acclaimed role of the golden child?
The critics may write their reviews of my performances

My petite hands peruse
Through the drawer's treasure,
The prescription pill bottle is
Considered as a future reference.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

8/2/14

Five years end,
Yes, gone for good.*

It finally died,
I hope it never returns.

I have it buried in soil
Where it will be a feast for the worms

It expired,
My conclusion is firm.

I remember when it created the scars,
It built up the shields that I would wield
Like mechanical wheels underneath me.

It has lost its power to bleach me.
I've become the burning creature,
Defiant and bold,
Risen from the black pyre.

Its ash I scattered into oblivion.
I wore white garb and smiled at its funeral,
No flowers were laid on its grave.

If my eyes forget lacrymosa,
My tears will be cried in ink.

Goodbye Black Sorrow,
Your death has brought life.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 10/23/10
Revised 10/3/14)

The color of my skin isn't important,
It has no bearing on the flaws of my character.
The glasses I wear aid my blurred vision,
It isn't related to any intellect I may or may not have.
My hair is wild and my beard is unkempt,
This does not mean I sell marijuana.

Be careful when forming conclusions
Based on snap judgments.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Originally written 11/14/13,
Revised in 2014

To return from Hell to Earth,
I sold my soul
In exchange for a curse.
I believed it was worth,
Seeing and embracing you again,
Not realizing I was
Further embracing sin.

I'd **** anyone to protect your life,
But you can't recognize me behind,
This red cloaked darkness,
And these horrific green eyes.
I'm better off winning you over
In secret, with a familiar
And lovable disguise.

I'm not who I once was,
Yet I am that man.
I lurk the rat infested hallways,
Praised by the socially ******.

At odds with both Heaven and Hell,
God and the Devil,
And forbidden to return home
And live my former life with you....

Rather, forbidden to
Live a new life with you,
One without suffering and bloodshed.

5/10/14

(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

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 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

Stories are told,
How everyone lives,
Yet no one completely knows.

I have a world to go to,
Not for the sake of being gone,
More so for the sake of being strong.

The wise made hints of self-discovery,
I didn't take in all what was said.
Right about now it would be essential to my quest,
But if it is in any way similar to a boomerang,
Then it will come back in the form of insight.

(c) 2010 Brandon Antonio Smith

9/24/10

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

My neighbor recalls his past life.
In it, he drank warm whiskey in the late evening,
While staring into space.
His white chandelier flinched, suspended high,
He didn't see it as a threat.

In a fraction of a second,
His cerebrum was crowned by thorns,
His chest puffed of poison, his body was raised,
And his iris was replaced with angelic light,
Until he was relinquished.
Minutes later he vanished.

His shadow remains on the wall for everyone to see
That he was claimed.

Today he said he admired the spirit of me,
And reassured me that I would not experience
The same, now or in any other life,
Thank goodness.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 10/30/10
Revised 9/29/14)

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

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

I miss you
As Charon revolves around Pluto,
And a lunar eclipse reveals itself for once in a generation....
For once in my generation...

I miss you
Like i miss me.
Siddhartha Gautama wandered
Purposely into a forest,
And learned a wealth of consciousness.

I miss you.
I miss you like arid land misses water,
I miss you.
I miss you like a mortal misses forever,
I miss you.
I miss you like I miss me,
I miss you.
I miss you like art
Misses a retired artist,

I miss you like I miss me,
I miss you...

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 12/21/10,
Revised 9/23/14)

I want to be like water.
I want to be amorphous ,
And transform into
Any shape I dwell in.

I want to be liberated,
I want to understand,
And to be understood. 
I don't want to be a
Mere, mindless structure
Obeying every demand
Of our societal machine,
I need to challenge this machine.

Why do people
Complain when it rains?
Rain is just as
Natural as sunshine,
It allows growth,
The soil is thirsty.

I want to be like the rain.
I want to soak the world
With creativity and inspiration.
I want to relieve myself
Of my sorrows,
I want to be purified,
I want to be like water.

Originally written 3/4/11
Revised 10/23/14

(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

May this resonate with you.
May you be alleviated
Entirely in the wake of the dawn.
I will fulfill your spirit
With my lambent presence.

In other words, the perennial balm
Filled the pores of your conscious.

We are immense and intense
Like the god-inspired galaxies,
And as passionate as Hades.

May we carry on as one.

Originally written 11/12/10
Revised in 2014

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

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

The getaway is close to our eyes,
Can't you escape with me?
You're not obliged to.
It's true that a wrong is committed at least once in life.
Knowledge is the result of multiple mistakes,
I long to know what exactly motivates your fate.

Join me this way,
I would appreciate it if you did.
Alone, it would mean hardship.

Wear me daily as if I'm your favorite logo,
Don't complain of the imperfections.
Believe me, I notice them too.

Explain to me the unexplained,
Answers are what we all want.
Some answers are more apparent than others.
In order to find the less obvious ones,
It's necessary to dig up ditches.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 10/29/10
Revised 9/27/14)

My familiar stranger,
My anonymous neighbor,

Who knows of your face?
Who knows "YOU" in general?
Who pays you any attention?
Who ever listens to you?
And are you ever mentioned for more than one second?
Or even at all?

Amnesia so soon,
Amnesia now,
Dementia much later.
Dementia much, much later.
Do you remember now?
Will you remember later?

Just an Emily Dickinson.

Originally written 3/24/11
Revised 10/15/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith