Maya slept here, there and everywhere -
and sadly now, the sleep is perpetual.

But more to the point,
Maya awoke us all - starting with herself
and what she awakened in us
can never sleep again!

When she spoke, her kind healing voice
kneaded our souls like a spiritual masseuse.

When she spoke,
          presidents listened.
When she spoke,
          the oppressed took heart.
When she spoke,
          oppressors changed heart a little.
When she spoke,
          America said Amen
          and so we will forever.

Thank you Maya for being so good at being.

If you hold a seashell
Against your ear,
You will hear a tic-toc
Within the knock of your own
Heart counting down by

Each beat being
Unfathomably fainter; you
Must
Write
Now.
Write for your life.

Silence is sin. Blank pages and
Clean walls around
The dwellings of your poetic
Powers; pure
Blasphemy.

Write, poet. Write for your life.
Counter every grain
Of sand passing, with
Words.
Write prose on the wind with
Your fingers to be carried into

The Archives of All. Write as if
Your death depends
On it. Express the beauty of
Our common insignificance,
And how we are still
Held above
Angels.

Write for your lives, flee
From slumber; awake.
There's lucidity here, unlike
Any seen through the haze of a
Dreamer's eyes.

You are the voice of the
Human Race, the last line of
Defence against
Robot lives
In a cold
Machine.

Write for our lives.
Write for your lives.

Everywhere I look
Visions of you

Ghostly images
Blurred and out of focus

I can't seem to shake it
This strange hocus pocus

I want you to leave
But I don't want to forget

The love that we shared
From The moment we met

I cannot move forward
Your love haunts me so

Will my heart mend
I really don't know

I travel through my days
With no end in sight


No matter What I try
You're still my hearts light

One: The Gathering

Lo, on a field of green
Came a few warriors
Tired from endless battle
Of killing in senseless need
So together they thus decided
Something new must arise

A scattering of small huts
Were slowly built by these
A wall erected to protect
As something new was born
Once brave men, now farmers
Near the forgotten oceans

More came to this gathering
Begging entrance to be inside
For naught was sought but peace
A name was needed for here
As something born of the future
Everyone wanted to be in Atlantis

Two: Brothers

The wall kept those away
Attempting to invade inside
But security was stronger
As peace dwelled within
Foundations of an army
Protecting Atlantis from harm

Two brothers slowly plotted
How could there be peace
If no one wanted to rule?
They decided to take control
To overthrow those in council
Wanting to have power themselves

As with those who want
Both brothers plotted
Secretly against each other
Gaining two sets of followers
Deciding each was the best
To have order of Atlantis

One night two huts were ablaze
Two bodies found in the flames
For both brothers were dead
Greed had been their downfall
Once again thoughts were gone
But the seeds of betrayal were sown

Three: Fated Love

She was a warrior's daughter
But he was a farmer's son
Fell in love and secret trysts
On the cliff tops where nobody came
There it was where love came true

For she was promised to another
To an older warrior she belonged
Only she wished to follow her soul
But she knew they would slay him
Or cast him and his family out

Each night they made love
Under the moon and stars
Ignoring those unsafe rocks
For they only saw their hearts
They would be together, forever

But hidden caves lay beneath
The ground opened up under them
Both plunged down to their deaths
Until a search was made to find them
A discovery of the caves under Atlantis

Four: The Caves

Miles of rope were used
With flaming torches
For those brave to explore
The mysteries of the caves
Of the treasures they had

Strange encrusted gems
Found embedded in the walls
Mined and brought to the surface
Where the wealth of Atlantis
Became a legend to behold

These caves were too valuable
Outside forces would come
For years they crafted below
While warlords battled above
There would come the first king

As a city was created underground
A war council was born to defend
Never to see the slendours
That only a select few would see
But it would take a century

Three kings would come to rule
As the city in the caves took shape
Where wondows watched the ocean
A stairway of gold led down
The city of Atlantis was born

Copyright Chris Smith 2013

Our love, little girl
Our love is not a castle  
No palace of gold, no fortress
Or stronghold
No cathedral or church

It is a tiny tree house
Where we sit
Dangling lazy legs
Holding hands

Rope ladder pulled up
No grown-ups allowed
And no single idea
About any love
Outside
Ours.

I love 'Chick Lit'
yes, it's true
My guilty pleasure
I'll share with you
I can't help it
I love it so
it's easy to read
and has a steady flow
My brain works hard
all day long
pick up 'chick lit'
you can't go wrong
I love the romance
and all it seems
'His' muscles flexing
'She' always beams!
All the kissing
oh, so intense
and the throbbing members
apparently they're immense!

; )

beauty! what a soothing tension
inside the nebula
crammed with vibrant darkness.
signified incessant, lurid
imaginary signifier chasing,
irrational  lightning,
unnamed gods dwelling.

there is suffering imprisoned
in the color of your flesh,
there's false emptiness
inside hurricane’s obsessions
such  frightened taste
in your lipstick

Yes, that is precisely where
beauty holds on to itself,
you just have to feel
its traces
in your tears,
in your fears
of being
so alive

I've seen too many quiet nights;
no conversation,
no wine to drink to us,
no explanations.
I compete with the Game of Thrones
for your attention.
I lose. The king still dies.
Dragons fly. Same old story.
I lie here reading Pablo
till I weep.
I want to say I love you. But I don't.
Say it, I mean. I want to think
you love me, too.
But you don't. Say it.
Let's have that conversation.
Dragons don't fly.
It's true.

r ~ 5/23/14