11/28/87
Circles in the mind
of never ending pain....
Circles must be broken
in order to be sane.
360 degrees of pain in a circle
that no one can understand.
Trapped in a never ending voyage
that's always the same.
'Round and 'round you travel
'til the rhythm is the same.
'Round and round you travel
always feeling pain.
'Round and round in a circle
the route is always the same.
Bigger or smaller circles,
but always filled with pain.
Copyright © 1996 Ronald F. Smith, P.E. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
Lies!!!
Scrambled, senseless lies
Hopping
from
Tortured, trembling lips....
Do you know their lies?
Not just words,
But love,
And hate,
And strange things undefined
Bubbling amid
Human feelings and fear
To burst
Perhaps in hurt....?
Or simmer in disguise....?
Do you know their lies?
Can you see their trembling lips?
....or are they still?
Moving only the part that
Cannot be fooled....?
That's so much harder to see....
But it's there....
Somewhere in the face....
....or in the hands....
....or maybe somewhere too subtle
To see....
Though maybe you can feel it
If you're close enough, and it
Catches you aware....
But, more than likely,
Guided by irrational confusion,
It'll pass....
Leaving it's dung
To rot forever
Trying to smell like Truth.
But Truth it's not....
No matter how it tries to smell,
And it will rot
Like a silent Fart....
To be smelled
Sooner or later....
Unless the odor is covered....
By another lie?
By a funkier fart??
To cover the smell for
An insensitive nose
Who cannot smell
The growing pile of dung??
Got to be smelled
Sooner or later.
Though perhaps giving birth to
Multitudes of other lies,
Which soon will begin to smell....
Complicating the whole issue....
Making it almost impossible
To discern one odor from another.
The lies will become necessary
For preserving sanity....
and eventually
Even the truth
Will seem to smell!!!!
Copyright © 1996 Ronald F. Smith, P.E. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
Can one draw a line
through
over
and around
the immortality of a lost man's soul?
Dotted or Dashed....
or
solid....
or any way you can.
The tangible
is no longer
with us
The Soul was never
a part....
Damn all the Likenesses
and pacify the concerned!
Will it return of it's own accord?
Will it be damned with the Likenesses....
Whimpering in the corner
Professing it's
Originality
with all the rest???
No
One cares....
A lie is
Just as good
As the truth....
The world will turn
Regardless
and night
Brings day
and Power
Right.
A good man will go far, but Judgment befalls all
and
Some are judged more Pure....
To the disbelief of the Screaming Multitudes
Question the Judgment!
There must be some mistake!
There must be some mistake!
But the World will turn
Regardless
Of who is right
and the
Blind see
Darkness
and the
Cripple
Walk
in dreams....
That's the way it's always been....
And the way it will
Always be.
Copyright © 1996 Ronald F. Smith, P.E. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
a pebble in the sand...
smooth upon the roughness
of the dust of rocks
that have washed to land
promotes the contrast
much like you and i....
or perhaps like her and him
a different pebble
on different sand
from different rocks
from a different land....
but contrasting just the same....
there is a likeness....
a sameness of origin
in these pairs
of things
that just
escapes the obvious....
at first glance
only the contrast is apparent....
the sameness hiding
in the smoothness
of the pebble
and the roughness
of the sand....
which somehow brings us
back to the beginning
which was rock
for the pebble
and rock for
the sand
the womb for her and him....
but the likeness....
which applies more
to you and i and her and him
than to pebbles upon sand
is so much
harder to understand
Copyright © 1996 Ronald F. Smith, P.E. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
Limitless, limiting limit placed on
unconfinablely confined state of mind
controlling a completely uncontrollable
awareness of the indistinguishable, yet
perceptible haze that is only an illusion
in part of "WHAT IS" numbs the positive
pain of emotion forcing Confusion to
stagger and rest It's heavy ass on the
foundation of the crumblin' ruin, that
was once my soul, caus'in me to utter
monosyllabic voweless fragments of my soul
in the wind blow'in through the holes in
my being, which began with me and shall
be filled when I die with the rotting bones of despair,
that rotted even as I lived but could
not fill the holes because of the wind,
which is deceptively sweeter than my breath,
which burns, crawled endlessly through me
cleansing, but not without pain as it
blew parts of me away....
Now is the only realness preserving the
elements of myself formed by the mystic
haze called Yesterday, that lives only in the memory,
die'in a little everyday, but somehow
unkillable, clinging to the very substance
of my being with invisible fingers that
formed me and tickled the very essence
of my soul, which was bound to the foundations
and could not run to escape gasping breaths
of Knowledge between laughter evoked by
the irritation or Learning....
which is the only real experience....
Copyright © 1996 Ronald F. Smith, P.E. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
i remember what i said a minute before....
or at least a point
at the
end
or some frag-
ment that somehow got stuck
in my mind near the wreckage of the past
that my mind stores to keep alive the
past
so that it has substance pass
the moment it was
conceived
in confusion
cleverly concealed
to pass
the time....
(which is meaningless anyway.)
Copyright © 1996 Ronald F. Smith, P.E. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
a
grimy man
sat by the door
and grinned a me as i passed....
or at least i thought he grinned at me,
so i grinned back.... but
he didn't see....
he
was lost some where
between
here and there
in a region of thought
so profound
that it
glassed
his eyes
and shook his head slowly
up
and
down
to the rhythm of
the waves in his mind....
which must be flowing no where near my
level of comprehension....
yet i grinned back....
but
he
didn't
see.
E-Mail to: ronaldfsmithpe@hotmail.com
Copyright © 1996 Ronald F. Smith, P.E. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.