I was born from the ashes of fear, guilt and shame.
Cut me into pieces and I will grow separately from all the blood-spattered pieces of my being.
Freer than before.
I have those cuts hidden somewhere under my skin.
I still breath through unhealed wounds.
I still bleed every month.
I still believe in lies.
I still choose the wrong path.
I don't need your religion to believe in myself.
I don't need you to wipe my blood stains.
I don't need you to tell me what's right.
Not this time.
Burn me and every inch of my flesh will explode viciously to reborn again and again.
Fierce than before.
My blood is still boiling and running through my fresh veins.
I won't let you drown in the hollowness
I won't immolate myself
I won't give you a chance to carry my burned flesh.
I won't follow these path of illiberal rules.
I don't want you to compromise your love.
I don't want you to devour the poison.. alone.
I don't want you to suffer ..just because you are supposed to.
Not this time..
Not this time.

Sometime an umbrella’s just a rabbit
and sometimes horses are never to be rode upon.

Sometimes a mother’s tears are foolish
and sometimes sons don’t want to come home.

Sometimes pearly whites and smiles surround
and sometimes teeth detach and dagger backs.

But a dream is just that, “a dream is just that” –
but a wandering, but a dread, if only damnation;

and a “ta, tada, aha!” The wizard’s returned before
we realize we’re all magic, fooled and the foolish –

Incarnations, infestations, imaginations,
and messes come ends, damnations, the victims.

Heaping distress and all of our own accord,
your accord, our accord, notarized the

Nooses ‘round our necks.

Led by foreign madness, we
- to long expected sleepless graves -
will swim to sink and drown in numbers
weighted down beneath the waves
with nothing left inside but shadows;
no-one left of worth to save

In one end and out the other,
warring with psychotic pride, then
born again and made to suffer
- karmic purpose ill-forgotten -
each new chance at life, a buffer:
"Next time: change..." we chant inside.

Cycles written, history leaking,
sorely weeping through the pores
of growing wombs and offspring born
- another child of soulless form -
to breastfeed lies, imprisoned, shrieking
time again: disease repeating.

Sin ingested (soup for poor)
- the bile of shame and burden lost -
as people starve and lives are sold
and terrors planned to mind control...
and all the while our sickened bodies
hover, rotting, rank with worry.

Toll the bells - it's time to breathe
and **** this horror from our conscience;
steer ourselves towards a pardon,
pave the way, resume our garden
seeding spirit, heart, and mind
with growth to bloom for one last time
or we, the people, incarnating,
won't survive beyond our mating.

Yesterday, was yesterday and yesterday makes me happy today
I can stand, I can even stand to think, long alone thoughts
when I four to compared to when I was ten more
looking over Norfolk shores building and breaking
moulding and making my time with my family and there Eternal Bliss
I have no worthy words for them

I will see them when I die because I know even then I'l still be ten
I'l still be building sand castles while the ocean creeps in on me
Then, as swift rain
I'l pour into incarnation again
to do my best to help my guest to join me on that Norfolk shore
with all that I adore and so much more

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

most of my life I have tried to keep
appearances and show the world
that I was a strong confidant young man

I smiled my polite smile as I was dying inside,
so afraid to share with any other human being
all the shame and guilt I kep buried deep inside

I have a fellowship of people today,
where our common weakness unites us
and we find strength in mutual vulnerability

when I embrace my weakness,
I allow God to enter into me
through my wounds

how easily I forget along with the rest of the world
that God chose to meet us face to face in weakness,
in a flesh like mine