''Folly''
''Drunk On Irony"
''Drunk On Irony''
by K. Scott Smith
October 29Th, 2011
1).
The sea would laugh and throw us back
Once we were honored guests
at a poets feast
a woman lays flowered words at my feet.
You be careful-
I'll be me.
Ashes in water,
cursed to have seen,
Vivid colors that were hidden.
Call to her,
Call her out,
Call her home,
Whenever you've found it.
Its strange for me
to envy the sea
a poets ghost still haunts me.
2).
I crave new architecture,
New honesty-
and closely guarded forbidden fruits.
I will not make order-
No, I will take to the road.
This bleak dwelling,
Course
and rooted,
Too deeply to be moved.
3).
Leaving in desperation,
Becomes a drunken motto,
I told the truth like some villain at the end.
And so goes Time rushing past.
I don't need to be forgiven,
Nor do I require Justice,
I long for nothing I can describe.
4).
A Golden crown
sat atop a furled brow
Danger in all directions
is the consolidation of power.
To absolve, create,
and maintain rank
and order of rank.
To rule.
A finely gilded cup,
filled with wine,
spills onto the ground.
Tonight honesty made me a villain-
yet set another free-
Settle for nothing less
than a good death.
And a hoarse laugh,
strong with irony-
Drunk on irony.
Tonight its Rum again
Wild and fierce
I danced with awkward steps
to rhythms I don't care to recall
5).
Kills each flower,
smothers each day,
enclose every open space,
and keep each river
from flowing-
from growing-
from every really knowing.
All your clumsy attempts
at using your hands, feet, and mouth,
becoming undeniably cynical
and aloof,
never coming-never going,
never having or needing proof.
6).
Practice being powerful,
influential and certain.
Practice life that wanders astounded,
into danger and flower and mystery.
The illusion of conflict
that seems so very real
can be urgent enough to matter
(real or unreal)
Each day's authenticity
each hour's refusal to commit
or, like the Sun, to submit
to anything but itself.
Its function
its duty
to be and to become.
7).
Mortal in almost every way
unlike the river bending
always changing
and always the same
all at once.
The people at the water
all thrown about in desperate heaps
of eyes and flesh
and loud voices
abrasive even from so far.
Envy the current
for knowing the way
OR not knowing
I don't know anything
at all
for sure.
8).
Some are there to help you,
others to oppose you,
some to lift you up
and others to destroy you,
to give you up,
some will resurrect you, others will guide you
some will enslave you and others Will hide you.
some will strengthen you and others divide you.
When the Oracle is silent
perhaps you should be silent
or pose better questions.
9).
Posing better questions
not really expecting an answer,
Just better ways to inquire,
or to conspire,
to weaken the differences
between the days and the hours
space, time,
dreams,
and the water.
-
by K. Scott Smith
October 29Th, 2011
1).
The sea would laugh and throw us back
Once we were honored guests
at a poets feast
a woman lays flowered words at my feet.
You be careful-
I'll be me.
Ashes in water,
cursed to have seen,
Vivid colors that were hidden.
Call to her,
Call her out,
Call her home,
Whenever you've found it.
Its strange for me
to envy the sea
a poets ghost still haunts me.
2).
I crave new architecture,
New honesty-
and closely guarded forbidden fruits.
I will not make order-
No, I will take to the road.
This bleak dwelling,
Course
and rooted,
Too deeply to be moved.
3).
Leaving in desperation,
Becomes a drunken motto,
I told the truth like some villain at the end.
And so goes Time rushing past.
I don't need to be forgiven,
Nor do I require Justice,
I long for nothing I can describe.
4).
A Golden crown
sat atop a furled brow
Danger in all directions
is the consolidation of power.
To absolve, create,
and maintain rank
and order of rank.
To rule.
A finely gilded cup,
filled with wine,
spills onto the ground.
Tonight honesty made me a villain-
yet set another free-
Settle for nothing less
than a good death.
And a hoarse laugh,
strong with irony-
Drunk on irony.
Tonight its Rum again
Wild and fierce
I danced with awkward steps
to rhythms I don't care to recall
5).
Kills each flower,
smothers each day,
enclose every open space,
and keep each river
from flowing-
from growing-
from every really knowing.
All your clumsy attempts
at using your hands, feet, and mouth,
becoming undeniably cynical
and aloof,
never coming-never going,
never having or needing proof.
6).
Practice being powerful,
influential and certain.
Practice life that wanders astounded,
into danger and flower and mystery.
The illusion of conflict
that seems so very real
can be urgent enough to matter
(real or unreal)
Each day's authenticity
each hour's refusal to commit
or, like the Sun, to submit
to anything but itself.
Its function
its duty
to be and to become.
7).
Mortal in almost every way
unlike the river bending
always changing
and always the same
all at once.
The people at the water
all thrown about in desperate heaps
of eyes and flesh
and loud voices
abrasive even from so far.
Envy the current
for knowing the way
OR not knowing
I don't know anything
at all
for sure.
8).
Some are there to help you,
others to oppose you,
some to lift you up
and others to destroy you,
to give you up,
some will resurrect you, others will guide you
some will enslave you and others Will hide you.
some will strengthen you and others divide you.
When the Oracle is silent
perhaps you should be silent
or pose better questions.
9).
Posing better questions
not really expecting an answer,
Just better ways to inquire,
or to conspire,
to weaken the differences
between the days and the hours
space, time,
dreams,
and the water.
-
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``Drunk On Irony`
``Drunk On Irony`
