"assortments" poems
my fingers have become bored with
the quicksand of routine
they prefer to dance erotically over my typewriter
frolicking like naked ballerinas
over an ancient stage
spilling their secret thoughts
onto blank page,
after their day job
threaded together
over my lap,
or bending over to
reveal the contents
of my burlap sack
they have taken instead
to jumping over cracks
in the nothing of night
stifling the sound of silence
with assortments of clicks and clacks
punching in the perfect pitch of keys
to leave Beethoven blind
from this symphony of notes combined
and just like that at last
they have unfolded some rhyme
unachievable with ink and pencil,
without the stencil of time
dictating to work inside the lines
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 7:07 PM UTC
The pavement having a merchandise name
Merchandising sales being the aim
Markdowns throughout any retail store
The array of assortments a consumer just can’t ignore
Yet watch how the consumer spends their money
The consumer will be broke, but certainly not the only
Plastic credit cards that could get you into trouble
This could cause your interest rates to double
But I one should only buy what they actually need
However unnecessary things with no need to proceed
Retail prices coming from a Buyer’s advice
Watch the price and shopping being wise
Fashion designers with a eye for your appeal and style
All through the theory the consumer is thinking during while
Well retail stores have much they want the consumer to explore
But with prices slashed here and over there, the consumer becomes not being sure
Perhaps having will power is something no one should ignore
Money saved with nothing being spent
No question needing to be asked as to where your money went.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
I found an empty book, it's labelled biology- grade nine,
fake lines ran across the book, never any real content,
to feel content with what I read was an impossible matter,
scattered diagrams of human anatomy too far from realism
because realistic diagrams would include labels to hearts
with coloured charts stating that 'this may fall apart-
not by fat barricades, but to paraphrase a different place,
Neruda chases the stars and from afar as the cages of ribs
would rip and sometimes, just enough to have felt loved,
to feel enough with being held for just a night, a short time,
but life is built beyond a biology book.
It is so strange that I have learnt so much more about life
than ninth grade biology because being biologically correct
doesn't ***** the hairs on my back as an assortment of words
like an assortment of birds aren't really meant to be described
as assortments and a biology book isn't really meant to describe life.
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 6:04 AM UTC
How do you swindle the light?
This would be the greatest grift.
An ongoing experimental conn
where we all remember,
who the mark(s) is,
pretending, just in case,
behind the curtain,
sleight of hand,
behind the back,
if there is no wizard in the back seat,
just in case...you'll tell the kids:
'it was all for them.' So they could sleep.
Childhoods are just safe houses for hope.
In play roles come easy,
in assortments, and unpackages, separate;
but everyone knows the rules,
their part, they remember
that fairness is sacred to play.
Some games get played
and some gamers’ play is accidental.
The game like the carnival is vacuous,
inhaling all into its eye,
exhaling into its calm, swindles like a carney,
jettisoning all into the extinction of gratification.
The mystery lies in the conspiracy.
System can beat game, house, odds,
conn the conn and you can go home a winner.
The Universe is a big casino, you see.
And all you have to do is get up from the table,
cash in your chips, and figure out where your car is.
The house always wins, you’ll say.
But therein lies the reason we play.
Which you're sure to figure out in the lot,
cramped delineations garner thought,
you'll realize that therein lies nowhere.
The conspiracy lies in the abyss,
A place where villagers lose their cattle,
Costumed & uniformed, singing gray prayers.
Crop circles are diasporic clusters of hope.
Where science fiction invented the cold war,
Between ghosts created by radio waves.
A mass hallucination produced by trauma?
Dellusion v. Illusion
Nurturist v. Naturist v. Projection,
As long as it’s a weapon!
Destination unknown-
But just in case, let’s create something that can destroy us all.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 1:27 AM UTC
Cardinal sun rose
blooming as the
budding flower.
Buddha chants in the
chimes of birds
ethereal caught in gradual hot wind,
Darjeeling tea steam rises on tabletop my
mind is waking over Indonesian morning.
Foreign babel as hours draw even
cacophony of hurricane horns
the Denpasar traffic drumming
chorus midst markets where
radio emitting Li Zengguang
dizi dizzily prancing into the
assortments of spice and coiling fabrics
patterns potent azure and golden
royalty brass clatter caged noise
boiling *** cries the Orient!
Overgrowth spots the charring temples
in majesty and abundance cradling the narrow
Balinese streets while tropic palm
and orchid spring swells the soils.
Ardent sun sheaths eastern archipelagos,
religious offerings canvas sidewalks
incense burning in overwhelming
bouquets of efflorescence smelling
daedal tapestries within the paradise.
Sun goes on setting the jewel easing
underneath the horizon,
butterflies sway in rest
hearts on fire
the ceremonies have finished.
Thunder shrieks against the sea
torrential rain firing on villa ceilings.
My eyes set to sleep
consciousness transitioning
between two dreams.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
Finding symbolisms
that connect you-
to me
scents and sights
that set my heart free
Baby,
my love is not a bribe,
nor my body or words
or my compassion
or played-out verbs…
What drives this force-
to me, is un-known
and these feelings
have done nothing but grown.
Like a thief in a bank-
my thoughts are more tempestuous
than the Devil driving a tank…
though nothing destroyed
will satiate.
And no words, no gifts,
nothing I can create
will be enough to show
the colors you make me see
-and the melodies in every key
that manifest with-in
every time you are near.
I don’t mean to over do it
or create a sense of fear
nor do I worry
that you may disappear.
circumstances and situations
of many assortments and arrays;
with or without you
will not hinder me
living through the day.
I just simply wish
I could write
the most compelling lines to you,
to move the world-
move the soul
-to make you proud
and feel completely whole.
To bombast all senses,
and knock down fences,
to alert the universe:
that you are in my heart
- to stay.
Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 3:33 PM UTC
Through the gardens
Head over heels
Over and ahead hills
Time met a forcefield...
"Love Metaphor's Field"
Shall we cross
The lines of the path
Pass pastures
The past matters
It's the path to the present
Pleasance
Now
Is the time
To take the future
A few Daisies at a time
Thier radiance
So similar to the sun
But Sunflowers disagree
To the utmost degree
And they still wave
Peace
The Rose says
Romance is beauty
In the eyes that behold her
Forgetmenot's
Are unforgiving
To those who don't...
Memories
Remind us
Of the pasts importance
And we move foward
Through assortments of bouquets
New day
Others aren't as please
The violets hide under trees
And shade thier purple face
And sing the blues
No jolly
Oh
Holly ornaments
Hang accross vines
And intertwine tight as twine
Or a kiss...
Tulips under the mistletoe
Such bliss
As free as insects
The Beatles
Eat the ripe fruit of life
We share
No one cares
There's
Strawberry Fields Forever
Sweet scents
As we swing
Life has been like a Jasmine
Imitating that yellow sun
And it's will
While we walk without haste
Through Love Metaphor's Feild
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 1:09 PM UTC
I remember when I met you
you were different to all of her other many boyfriends
we could talk about the things I liked
you liked them too.
Months after you and her had finished your chapter in life
you stepped into mine
you dazzled dizzied bewildered me
showed me that it was alright to like the things I did
You wrote poems
you made me feel special
I thought that you liked me
the way I liked you
Then you left for what seemed a thousand years
the night I found out about your new girl I didn't cry
I remained content until an excessive amount of alcohol brought out all the feelings
the words spewed out of me
the same way the varied assortments of drink would do later that night
We still spoke on occasion
we shared an embrace or two when we accidentally met in the street
I was still crazy about you
even though I was aware that you were crazy about her
You ignore me now
we don't talk
you cast me aside
like everybody else did
I think of you a lot lately
but not in the way I used to
If I ever had the pleasure of speaking with you again
I would remain silent
I have nothing to say to you
The only things I have are the memories of you
the arguments
the embraces
the exams
It's all over now.
I understand that everything I thought we had was all in my imagination
when you said you loved me you didn't mean it in the way I did
but I can't be with anybody else because I feel as if it should be you
I'd like to say you ruined me but you didn't
I've ruined myself
I'm so used to being in a state of heart break that I will put myself back there in order to feel comfortable
I want to forget you
in the same way that you've forgotten me
thrown me away
left me
I hope you never find out how much I cared for you
because it's embarrassing for me
I can't believe I ever felt that way about anybody
I let somebody through the hard exterior that I have
I pretend I have no emotion but you made me vulnerable
I let you in.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 8:14 AM UTC
The snow melts to reveal sad assortments of garbage
Strewn along the sidewalks like a ***** bricolage
The geese occupy our emptying quad
Each is a blessed sign from your god
The early bird rises far before the dawn
Bragging in bird-tongue about his perfect lawn
Global warming shows its ugly face
And the weather becomes a temperamental disgrace
Moving trucks and vans headed toward the interchange
Each summer my peers look forward to happy change
To work or not to work, that is the question
But often work is more than just a suggestion
April is the time of transitions
The time of decisions
Move from brain to body
From student to entry-level nobody
It’s nice work if you can get it
But every year I forget it
Wait until the last minute
Get hired just in time to quit
Exams and singing
Farewells and resume printing
Interviews and bargaining
All these things remind me of spring
Longing glances across the fluorescent lights of the store
I long with everything I have for him to cross the floor
Every year we interact but nothing more
But every year I hope the power goes out so I can be his *****
Well, roll up your sleeves
It’s time to produce!
Five months away from the tuition-grabbing thieves
So there’s absolutely no excuse!
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC
Eyes deep and dark as if linked to the primordial abyss,
It was if you could see further than the blank faces of truths and lies
It was as if you could clearly see what is and what is not, for you.
I see you.
Voice commanding attention like the horns of heavens army and as soothing as their zithers, your lips it's succulent strings.
How do you move so free fluid in design how you choose to love is invasive with no lines
So let me in
Skin smooth as molasses and ravagingly rich in flavor, I would imagine, on my tongue.
Body as bountiful as the late harvest, your delicacies just as sweet
when your legs part blessings flowing, falling miracles, from my chin to my feet;
ceremony, a Thanks giving for this decadent feast.
Get on the table
I crave your assortments curled up, laid down, bent over with all the sides
Greedy for the textures and scent like honey bees are magnolia.
Abundant as Gaia so I'll touch every corner like the sky,
the heat of our sol is ever high; in the still of the night I wish to bask in your moons light while I rise and conduct your tides.
Good times are savored not kept
A self, if I don't help , watering flower blooming how and when ever it sees fit.
Passion like the sun, radiant and all illuminating; like the moon on a still pond, while you seem grounded your true home is in the sky amongs the stars.
Aug 29, 2021
Aug 29, 2021 at 5:05 AM UTC
Many friends gorge
during holidays,
stuffing stuffing in their mouth space
forcing fried flightless birds in their face
along with assortments of steamed greens
guzzling fermented bubbles of hops or grapes
until engulfed in the glazed-eye coma nap
as their bulbous bellies slowly bouey back and forth.
Before passing out, some might remark about convalescing a food baby,
to which I've often wondered
if said baby is born when they take a ****
Is it still a food baby or has it grown to a **** baby?
Why don't they nurture said **** baby so it can grow
and get into a ****** school and then a **** job?
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
An Aunt and a Nephew on an adventure to explore
It all happened at the Macy’s Herald Square Store
It was the marquee eyes and yellow buses that caught the attention in a little fellow being wise
As a tot, I picked up the yellow bus
I had to have the bus being a must
My Aunt saw the bus in my hand
She told me to put back at her command
But a tot determined to get the bus became my demand
I made such a fuss for that bus
My Aunt was forced to buy the yellow school bus
My persuasion in maneuver became a must
My passion for any bus became my reality with no fuss
Buses have become my hobby from that start
I have a complete 2,000 Bus collection in making my mark
From the start of the engine to the movement with exhaust
A bus hobby I love
The structure and wheels I think of
From a bus pioneers point of view
Here is a more detailed clue
My apartment is a like a bus collector’s paradise
Each bus I have represent themselves
Yes, they fit quite comfortably on the shelves
But it’s Greyhound ahead on the mount
I have so many busses you simply can’t count
It’s my Greyhound glass stretched hound
It doesn’t make a sound
However it stands on my bookshelf being sturdy bound
Buses have become what I missed
I don’t intend to ever dis
My buses have become my catch
They are my assortments like a batch
My buses are just for fun, but everlasting as the shining sun.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
To grieve over death
is one thing
But to smell death
To stand in the room
Where death goes once its dead
And see the eye cups
That are placed so the eyes don’t sink but seal
with adhesives.
The tools that cut the arteries
And the smell of the
formaldehyde that replaces
the blood that’s drained
And the small, clean blade that cuts the navel
And the garbage bag that reeks of
the stomach and intestines that get pumped out
Assortments of makeup that
Could cover bruises and burns
Or a blue or yellow face
All in this tiny, cold room
Where the lifeless go
When their vessel is wrought
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
you went up in smoke
somewhere in valhalla
i'm here
exactly 916 miles away
wishing i had said anything to you
when i still had the chance
before i dug my nails
into the hard december soil
trying to find any trace
of the dust they said
you were returning to
if you're really going back
to that from which you came
i'll wait for you
in that house
on woodburn avenue
until your seventeen year old self
comes slipping drunk through
the front door
because at least you still have life to waste
in 1977
if there's a God
i wanna ask him
why your soul must've gotten confused
and fled your body 5 days
before they stopped the life support
i'd ask him why you had to leave
2 generations of women behind
2 parents who were forced
to survive their oldest daughter
a husband reeling
a brother, my father
i'd ask him why
the whole family's speaking without
consonants now
why suddenly we're all children
mourning your loss
in assortments of vowels
why nothing is as honest
or as lonely
as childhood
or death
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
****** away
the opposing fighters
out of the fray
take them and
enclose them
within separate jars
where they cannot hurt
themselves or others
sitting stark still
forced to talk through
differences and
whatever assortments thereof
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 7:48 PM UTC
Hearts are held hostage
To love once a year
Forced to remember
The one they hold dear
With chocolates and roses
And heart-shaped assortments
Afraid to be lonely
In love with that fear
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 5:40 PM UTC
Greenleigh:
Rounding your cottage side,
There you were, bundles tied,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
What plan were for the blooms?
In the kitchen rose fumes,
You truly hoped for a tryst,
Wine love potion cauldron,
Boiled in my drink to stun,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed.
Haven:
My beauteous neighbor,
I submit to ardor,
All in obscure struggles midst,
I see your distant gaze,
But you I try to faze,
You were all to me exist,
“I will beckon at noon,
In this hot summer June,”
All in obscure struggles midst.
Greenleigh:
But as I spy, I think,
Then discreetly slink,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
I culled my own blossoms,
His allures my thraldoms,
I truly hoped for a tryst,
To you a bit of remorse,
Yet my heart waxed full force,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
I catch the way you stare,
I will avoid our affair,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Supplanted your fetters,
Entreaty, scrawled letters,
He were all to me exist,
I thought to meet halfway,
Might I be led astray,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Wyn:
And I received her word,
Intended a detour,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Read the book of magic,
My love to you chronic,
I truly hoped for a tryst,
Donned my riding garments,
Leas, with my assortments,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Her eyes, you I outshone,
Heedless to her writ tone,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Fancied your ivor teeth,
Smooth skin, your clothes ‘neath.
You were all to me exist,
In daydreams I drifted,
Blunders, I self chided,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Greenleigh:
Shocked when I saw him trot!
With grasp I became fraught,
All in obscure struggles midst,
He visits you, not me,
Deceit deserved, yet plea!
You were all to me exist,
Could not look in his eye,
Yet utter not goodbye,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Haven:
“Neighbor, wrong I done ye!”
I watch only blankly,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Her twisted mouth distressed,
No one thought we were blessed,
You were all to me exist,
I mumbled, brimming tears,
Should have asked direct, fears,
All in obscure struggles midst,
He was the fool of fate,
Confused yet did await,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
I vied for your full love,
As you to his yet shove,
I only hoped for a tryst,
Rapt in misconceptions,
Mocked us, even aspens,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
All:
Yet not so sly were we,
Does cognizance come bleak,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
We greeted happenchance,
What’s left but insistence?
Our furtive attempts yet missed,
Admit not errs, turn rightwards,
Fracturing our concords,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Greenleigh:
Anxiously sipped bottles,
And did we start battles,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Suffused eyes, flushed faces,
Affects spill, anguishes,
Our furtive attempts yet missed,
We die lone in shambles,
Bonds of love in scrambles,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed.
Feb 10, 2020
Feb 10, 2020 at 7:53 PM UTC
The Christmas spectacular being the show
The Rockette’s in spreading cheer in go
Dance numbers with their own range
Effects that add to the audience amaze
A weather forecast says occasional snow within Radio City
But I this case of no thought on pity
To dance and make New York City shine
Creating all the old fashioned assortments that come to mine
The orchestra have the right note
The feeling of movement like a boat
The excitement that just makes you float
Rockette’s kicking up their heels
Wanting the audience to feel Christmas in how it really feels
Having the audience leave with the dazzle and sizzle
The Rockette’s being the best yet
We’re getting closer to Christmas and counting days in get
Christmas is slowly coming upon
Radio City Rockette’s being marvelette and the joy of being among
Christmas joy to you and your family being your crew.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 2:41 PM UTC
My eyes disconnect from my fingers
Mind from my body on the screen
And lingers
With the walking stick limp
That taps along the concrete
His scraggly white beard blowing in the wind
I saw the old man earlier in the street
I held my hand up to the light
To see if it was fake
Watched the old woman pass
With her brown paper bag
Rip and tear
Assortments spraying like paint
Vulture children swooping down in a rush to eat
Minds so full of hate
Confusion in every eye that sees
I wonder why I bother
Oh my mind is slipping away
My guard is down
Glued to my chair
Pulling out my hair
And there is
So much to choose from
So much
To be done
Here
This is not an exit
And you have not won
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 2:11 PM UTC
A field of daisies
A field of roses
It makes no difference to me if they
Are red or if they are
White
I mean really
A flower is a flower
Beauty of different kinds
And they hardly mean anything anyway
Flowers wilt in a few days
And you symbolize our love in a measly
Plant?
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC
I took a step back and I looked at the paths up ahead.
They shook and they cracked so I took to the caverns instead.
And now I emerge with a powerful urge to create.
Empowered by words and assortments of certain mistakes.
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 6:30 PM UTC
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)
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
A slim smooth man
Every step being his command
His fashion statement being high in demand
But his distinction being pinstripe
Pinstripe always dressed fresh like a spring ripe
Assortments had to be just right being black and white or white and red pinstripes
Pinstripe had all the hype
He got his name from dancing at many clubs
A woman’s remembrance to think of
The minute Pinstripe entered any room it was always greetings of what’s up
His shoes were of quality brand
Every inch of Pinstripe and everyone knew he was the man
Pinstripe’s hair was combed with his hair being shown
The tie became a creation and conversation piece of don’t hate just appreciate
Every woman married or single wanted to dance with Pinstripe
Each moving dance step was a woman’s date being met
Pinstripe had that certain swagger
From that first sip of wine
A cigarette just before he would dine
Pinstripe knew how to pass the time
He was the dress code, but never ate alone
It was his personality in having the woman melt like butter
Pinstripe was definitely like no other
He was the mainstream being a name
He was persuasive and had game
But who was going to blame?
Getting attention was the precision at direct aim
The bull’s eye being any woman that had a fishing rod and a net, however, it was Pinstripe being the catch of the day, and being the best bet.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 7:14 PM UTC