''Folly''
In Heaps
''In Heaps''
By K. Scott Smith
1.
I sat atop death's shoulders,
inviting every bridge to burn,
to burst to flaming cinders each particular thing-
then breathe in the fumes
Indeed, uncertainty has an allure all its own,
Dangerous, unknown.
The ''washing of hands'' was not inconsequential,
nor were you for that matter.
That obscene picture-
like a spider in an old bathtub,
polished white yet covered in rust.
You say I prefer ''cold and blue'',
This city doesn't know you like I do,
and never will.
2.
My sweet, Antigone-you have your daggers,
and untold chains for every vice,
each and every devilish smile I make.
Lead me, Antigone,
as if you were my eyes,
Oh those eyes-
torn out with strong fingers,
I will sink and I will slouch
I will lay in dark places.
I love you, Antigone,
sweet protector of kingly fools.
3
Youth and younger,
as certain as summer,
and as long as the hills and plains were once wide.
The advantages of hunger, of thirst,
of instinct, and desire-
There are no tame dreams here,
Nor tame dreamers...
Today of all days!
4.
Oh Muses and my Vanity,
will you ever make amends?
What then shall be it's terms?
Some impossible task?
Set them down.
Lay them out.
5.
These new colonies of lust,
all collecting like rust,
on a Persian rug, within a military tent-
Pacing commanders awaiting orders
New mockeries of trust,
and the perversion of instincts,
barely human.
6.
Finding occasion to cry,
and occasion to dine,
sometimes finding occasion to lay down and die-
sometimes never knowing why...
Finding occasion to laugh,
and occasion to write,
Finding occasion to drink, to speak,
to be silent, to fight.
I ventured to place my feet at the very edge of the abyss,
but the sensation of falling pulled me closer-
till I could not even recall that line,
once you've crossed it you may never recognize it again.
7.
Like empty coffers dream
of being filled and winged
All that lived now turned to ice,
like some wayward mariner in frozen Atlantic waters.
Silver screen images,
classic Hollywood-
each bored gesture unnerving,
the irony of beauty's bondage
kept, used, then discarded
never for much.
8.
The heat of newer frictions,
welding our skin into the avenues,
our bones into the dirt,
our ashes into the sea-
so much for philosophy!
-and the somewhat ''immediate'' certainty of numbers.
Each author's answers, prejudices, illusions, hopes,
all sprouting like mushrooms, in the early fog, on the hillside,
for anyone to collect and consume!
The bookstore is full of them
all filed and categorized-
by author or genre'.
A sick and malnourished medium,
ripe for burning.
Enough fire to burn the world to ciders,
a civilization reduced to smoldering embers.
9.
The conqueror comes uninvited.
You are mine.
To keep it close though nothing is meant to last-
Let one kingdom come- decline it.
the conqueror comes uninvited.
Lays to waist all that is divided.
All that's grown proud and strong and Nobel
left unable to speak.
10.
If you leave me here,
alone,
''in heaps'' upon my doorway-
just inside the gate-
just leave me there...
I have- and will again- endure far worse,
I cannot be the first to have ventured so far-
from the world of warm beds
& into worlds of finely woven threads
*It's just as it always was!*
Burn me lest I become old,
let the fire have skin that still shines,
with life, yet ripe,
Let them come in numbers by night.
11.
A world without end
without endings,
All that remains inconsistent,
constantly unraveling
Some dreamed of dark friend,
that is more than eager,
more than willing.
Curses are forgiven
Villains will also weep-
in well tailored black suits,
and well made leather shoes.
Thieves without envy,
the need to to bleed, or to breathe,
to run until your lungs collapse.
12.
These days & dimming stars,
so far away,
never knowing when, or where,
or care.
Asleep in cars in motion,
on wet streets that- to a sleepy child in a strange city-,
did seem enchanted.
(I can still recall the sound of the radio)
The half moon
wearing gilded armor and bright plume.
Makes it's presence known,
the night goes on and on and on.
(these days and dimming stars).
13.
The nights as long as the night before.
same dog hanging 'round my back door.
Does she consider time,
this beast with eyes as wild as mine?
Please don't say
what you don't mean,
or how it seems,
please say something you'll regret,
lest I forget,
the endless circles( Ive walked.)
14.
Filling splendid villas
with splendid hours,
and every kind of wine.
Within the walls we make maps,
crude lines to represent geological locations.
Here's a river, here's a road,
here is where the mountain ranges begin,
Outside our walls the river is moving, roads are merging,
people rushing to and from haggard mountains.
Carrying oils as lanterns sway,
in the winds that allows the chimes to play.
You, love, are the changing ocean tides-
only the Moon can move you so.
Turn off the radio
Forever.
15
.Each season is victorious-
even as it passes away-
each loss and each gain-
there are many-
they are the same.
16.
The sky is a sea of lovers,
a blur of limbs and flesh,
lust and love, movement,
swelling and receding.
17.
I sat death upon my shoulders,
I endured as a stone endures,
remaining a long time unbroken...
perhaps I was only full (at last) at breaking...
perhaps I will have painted some new meaning
upon some poor bastard's symbols.
-new colors for new eyes.
Symbols and numbers-
logic and reason,
Intuition and memory
effects, causes, motives.
By accident I almost glimpsed,
the new orange horizon,
on the tip of my tongue.
18.
The vigilant 'righting of wrongs'',
though never undone.
We shall do as the night contends
let our love need never make amends
(with anything but itself).
Let us choose vibrant masks on some days
& solemn masks on others.
Let each change be victorious as each season is victorious
Let us pass and find no reason to stop,
to cast aside all that we would use to cut ourselves, to harm ourselves,
let us only destroy those parts of our-self that deserve to die-
(so that we may live better).
19.
A candles blaze,
like a lantern's sway,
a dim lighthouse
in the wind of a hot moon
sits, waiting in the window.
20.
A state of preoccupation
a current state
hearts are pulled
and actions spoken as words, out loud.
These whims can be their own gods, priests and order
all with contrived rites,
old and useless but striking.
So many gather like sheep,
or starving pigs feeding, at last, on themselves,
all barking and ranting and repeating!
all frozen in language
all kept from itself
by this lack of authenticity
Let us raise every roof
storm every barn
sleep on every field
and die as strangely but as fiercely as we lived.
By K. Scott Smith
1.
I sat atop death's shoulders,
inviting every bridge to burn,
to burst to flaming cinders each particular thing-
then breathe in the fumes
Indeed, uncertainty has an allure all its own,
Dangerous, unknown.
The ''washing of hands'' was not inconsequential,
nor were you for that matter.
That obscene picture-
like a spider in an old bathtub,
polished white yet covered in rust.
You say I prefer ''cold and blue'',
This city doesn't know you like I do,
and never will.
2.
My sweet, Antigone-you have your daggers,
and untold chains for every vice,
each and every devilish smile I make.
Lead me, Antigone,
as if you were my eyes,
Oh those eyes-
torn out with strong fingers,
I will sink and I will slouch
I will lay in dark places.
I love you, Antigone,
sweet protector of kingly fools.
3
Youth and younger,
as certain as summer,
and as long as the hills and plains were once wide.
The advantages of hunger, of thirst,
of instinct, and desire-
There are no tame dreams here,
Nor tame dreamers...
Today of all days!
4.
Oh Muses and my Vanity,
will you ever make amends?
What then shall be it's terms?
Some impossible task?
Set them down.
Lay them out.
5.
These new colonies of lust,
all collecting like rust,
on a Persian rug, within a military tent-
Pacing commanders awaiting orders
New mockeries of trust,
and the perversion of instincts,
barely human.
6.
Finding occasion to cry,
and occasion to dine,
sometimes finding occasion to lay down and die-
sometimes never knowing why...
Finding occasion to laugh,
and occasion to write,
Finding occasion to drink, to speak,
to be silent, to fight.
I ventured to place my feet at the very edge of the abyss,
but the sensation of falling pulled me closer-
till I could not even recall that line,
once you've crossed it you may never recognize it again.
7.
Like empty coffers dream
of being filled and winged
All that lived now turned to ice,
like some wayward mariner in frozen Atlantic waters.
Silver screen images,
classic Hollywood-
each bored gesture unnerving,
the irony of beauty's bondage
kept, used, then discarded
never for much.
8.
The heat of newer frictions,
welding our skin into the avenues,
our bones into the dirt,
our ashes into the sea-
so much for philosophy!
-and the somewhat ''immediate'' certainty of numbers.
Each author's answers, prejudices, illusions, hopes,
all sprouting like mushrooms, in the early fog, on the hillside,
for anyone to collect and consume!
The bookstore is full of them
all filed and categorized-
by author or genre'.
A sick and malnourished medium,
ripe for burning.
Enough fire to burn the world to ciders,
a civilization reduced to smoldering embers.
9.
The conqueror comes uninvited.
You are mine.
To keep it close though nothing is meant to last-
Let one kingdom come- decline it.
the conqueror comes uninvited.
Lays to waist all that is divided.
All that's grown proud and strong and Nobel
left unable to speak.
10.
If you leave me here,
alone,
''in heaps'' upon my doorway-
just inside the gate-
just leave me there...
I have- and will again- endure far worse,
I cannot be the first to have ventured so far-
from the world of warm beds
& into worlds of finely woven threads
*It's just as it always was!*
Burn me lest I become old,
let the fire have skin that still shines,
with life, yet ripe,
Let them come in numbers by night.
11.
A world without end
without endings,
All that remains inconsistent,
constantly unraveling
Some dreamed of dark friend,
that is more than eager,
more than willing.
Curses are forgiven
Villains will also weep-
in well tailored black suits,
and well made leather shoes.
Thieves without envy,
the need to to bleed, or to breathe,
to run until your lungs collapse.
12.
These days & dimming stars,
so far away,
never knowing when, or where,
or care.
Asleep in cars in motion,
on wet streets that- to a sleepy child in a strange city-,
did seem enchanted.
(I can still recall the sound of the radio)
The half moon
wearing gilded armor and bright plume.
Makes it's presence known,
the night goes on and on and on.
(these days and dimming stars).
13.
The nights as long as the night before.
same dog hanging 'round my back door.
Does she consider time,
this beast with eyes as wild as mine?
Please don't say
what you don't mean,
or how it seems,
please say something you'll regret,
lest I forget,
the endless circles( Ive walked.)
14.
Filling splendid villas
with splendid hours,
and every kind of wine.
Within the walls we make maps,
crude lines to represent geological locations.
Here's a river, here's a road,
here is where the mountain ranges begin,
Outside our walls the river is moving, roads are merging,
people rushing to and from haggard mountains.
Carrying oils as lanterns sway,
in the winds that allows the chimes to play.
You, love, are the changing ocean tides-
only the Moon can move you so.
Turn off the radio
Forever.
15
.Each season is victorious-
even as it passes away-
each loss and each gain-
there are many-
they are the same.
16.
The sky is a sea of lovers,
a blur of limbs and flesh,
lust and love, movement,
swelling and receding.
17.
I sat death upon my shoulders,
I endured as a stone endures,
remaining a long time unbroken...
perhaps I was only full (at last) at breaking...
perhaps I will have painted some new meaning
upon some poor bastard's symbols.
-new colors for new eyes.
Symbols and numbers-
logic and reason,
Intuition and memory
effects, causes, motives.
By accident I almost glimpsed,
the new orange horizon,
on the tip of my tongue.
18.
The vigilant 'righting of wrongs'',
though never undone.
We shall do as the night contends
let our love need never make amends
(with anything but itself).
Let us choose vibrant masks on some days
& solemn masks on others.
Let each change be victorious as each season is victorious
Let us pass and find no reason to stop,
to cast aside all that we would use to cut ourselves, to harm ourselves,
let us only destroy those parts of our-self that deserve to die-
(so that we may live better).
19.
A candles blaze,
like a lantern's sway,
a dim lighthouse
in the wind of a hot moon
sits, waiting in the window.
20.
A state of preoccupation
a current state
hearts are pulled
and actions spoken as words, out loud.
These whims can be their own gods, priests and order
all with contrived rites,
old and useless but striking.
So many gather like sheep,
or starving pigs feeding, at last, on themselves,
all barking and ranting and repeating!
all frozen in language
all kept from itself
by this lack of authenticity
Let us raise every roof
storm every barn
sleep on every field
and die as strangely but as fiercely as we lived.
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In Heaps
In Heaps
