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

Whatever comes to mind.
The frequent and frail failures,
The penetrated safe,
The outcomes of rash decisions,
The side-effects of sudden dilemmas,
The organisms' ******* organs Organized in an ****,
The most made of a loss,
The impulsive implosion,
This destructive construction,
The anonymous messenger,
Whatever comes to mind.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Originally written 2/14/14
Revised in 2014

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

Look this way,
See this feeble smile on my face.
Veins heavy with dwindling gaiety
And badgering vexation.

I was self-destruction
Pulled into grace.
Demons are in everyone,
Not just heathens and rebels.

I envisioned paradise, did you figure?

The barrier was bit by your fangs.


(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 11/30/10
Revised 9/24/14)

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

My ears informed me that there was a Long Hard Road Out Of Hell,
But also that there was The Stairway To Heaven.*

Heaven sent yet hell bent,
Curved and bent.
You don't know where I am,
Because it all depends.

If the bird is the word
Then I'm flying above Earth,
As as far as my capability allows, I mentally surf.

Our lives are moving like jet streams,
And numerous times I've hit low points,
Aspiring to exceed my limitations.
The air I breathe is heavy.

Smoke floats from verdant leaves,
Currents lead us, but we are often misled.


(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 11/19/10
Revised 9/24/14)

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)

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)

Blood shot,
Dry snot,
Assortments of all you've shown.
All these rights, and all these wrongs,
I have a horn I want to hone.

I am so drowsy tonight,
Your nostrils burn like light.
All these years,
I never had a spine.

You are so hyper tonight,
Assortments of all you've shown.
All these rights, and all these wrongs,
I have a horn you want to hone.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 5/30/09
Revised 9/30/14)

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

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