Matt E. Smith
I am who I am. Expect nothing more; nothing less.
I write about what I know and what is true to me.
---
the tragedy of the leaves by charles bukowski
I awakened to dryness and the ferns were dead,
the potted plants yellow as corn;
my woman was gone
and the empty bottles like bled corpses
surrounded me with their uselessness;
the sun was still good, though,
and my landlady's note cracked in fine and
undemanding yellowness; what was needed now
was a good comedian, ancient style, a jester
with jokes upon absurd pain; pain is absurd
because it exists, nothing more;
I shaved carefully with an old razor
the man who had once been young and
said to have genius; but
that's the tragedy of the leaves,
the dead ferns, the dead plants;
and I walked into a dark hall
where the landlady stood
execrating and final,
sending me to hell,
waving her fat, sweaty arms
and screaming
screaming for rent
because the world had failed us
both.
My Poems
-
I fear love is not meant to be known
fully -- it is meant to be savoured -
-
is your glass half empty or half full?
the bartender asked -
summer yawned
and absence remained
Guestbook
-
heavenbird on November 17
I THOUGHT WE HAD SOMETHING! -
heavenbird on November 17
is our love some kind of joke to you!?!?!?!??!!!!?!?!?!?!
-
heavenbird on November 17alright.
let's be best friends again, spartan.
after i thrash you with a whip made of your own pubic hairs. -
heavenbird on November 17well I regret to inform you that the sound on your computer is most definitely missing out. as well as my playlist being completely outdated. I have to re-do it.
alright you roman dog dick yankee doodle dandy that smells like rosie o donnell's sewer pipes, (and of course her v-bomb), I hope no one starts a huge revolting drama over a website with me. that would be far too funny.
"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind"
--Shakespeare
