a work in progress

here’s to relaxing in public.
i used to be incapable of said behavior.
now, my Zen is my personal savior
and relaxing with folk is my shtick.

nothing can stop me from making my future work out.
i mean that most sincerely.

and, quite frankly, this resolve is amazing.
still not sporting an engagement ring.
I am quite proud of that fact, too.

ah, to be twenty four and have the whole world ahead of me.

fills me with glee to see myself as a butterfly…
i refuse to not try.

i also refuse to cry for the next year.
how about y’all?

instead, I shall soar without fear
and embrace the felicitous horizon.

with oppurtunities galore,
i no longer feel afraid of before.

today’s morning feels authentic enough to deserve the title of yesterday’s glorious tomorrow.
ahhh, to have patiently waited for the transcendence of sorrow…

to have discovered that happiness shall always be real.

call me the timeless optimist whom knows nothing other than politenes and pietous zeal.

here’s to the usher of magical sunshine that keeos us cozy, warm, and comfortable.
here’s to those whom use smitten smiles to sublime away voidness until only tranquility remains.
here’s to the suns, the moons, and sagacious everyone and their iridescent brilliance.
stay true to the trajectory of your dreams and not happenstance.
with well tempered patience, we’re all going to go far.
so, remain the way you are.

love yourself today as if the intensity your heart and soul are as unbreakable and beautiful as sunbeams spilling into the sky after a dreary rain.
lastly, remain the same splendid sanctuary for your friends’ souls that you have always been.

Until next time,
Sean M. Smith

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I Miss Her

It’s red wine nights or an absence of fully blossomed beatitude. It’s frequent pondering of one day realities and making them come true, me and you. And, it’s all about the when and why because I’ll have the how and what down pat. I will softly and soundly sift through the shit-heads that use me […]

It’s red wine nights or an absence of fully blossomed beatitude.

It’s frequent pondering of one day realities and making them come true, me and you.

 

 

I promise to sort through the kinks in my life,

projecting nothing nothin short of lovely feelings into your irreproachable, far-reaching, magnificent

mind.

..

They say only make love to one’s wife,

Yet in my opinion, there is much more to living out life and love than sexual exclusivity.

In fact, it is about the heart and heart only.

And, if yours doesn’t race like an iambic amphetamine suburban teenagers once did,

I don’t want you around forever.

To me, and maybe to a few others, monogamy is as limiting as the promises of a beautiful sunrise during my suicidal nineteenth year, during which I was way worse off more frequently than I ever admitted.

Why? Because.

Because it is all too filled with ever so broken, yet not entirely impossible, promises.

At this point, I’d like to confess, that I will always be a mess.

But, I’m fine with them– my crooked dreams

and curiously juxtaposed halo-rings

surrounding imaginary supermassive star solar flares

Oh, how our bodies will vibrate harmoniously with laud and vivacity.

Moreover, if you don’t want candle lit lotion massages

And bubble baths after we fuck on the kitchen table,

just tell me.

I can easily run away to another lass with a fat ass in the meadow of blazing hearts that is the land of sweet, sweet love.

Quite frankly, she will be just as wonderful as you in some ways.

But in some respects, you will still be missed.

 

I

weird you say!
we are all weird.
isn’t it intriguing?

those oceanic, seismic, celestial eyes,
wow… their still the same.

i would like you to always know that,
in a skeptics world, I know
that you are everything, the whole of existence
to many, including me, so don’t go worrying
about if others think you are too peculiar.

are we not supposed
to expose others to comeliness,
to the divine variation
of persona that sums up
to the universe’s imagination.

II

speak gorgeousness into existence.
your chums will ponder for days,
your monumental, eloquent soliloquies
if you are heroic enough to share with them.
befriend yourself! embrace the muddled emotions.

say something beautiful again. those lovely,
innocent, puckish mavericks whom are your comrades

their dreams may be soon to disappear, leaving them burnt out,
leaving their lives a spiritually barren nightmare.

and, you… well, you’re astonishingly congenial and vivid,
the people, they age like a fine wine because of you.

really! judging form how inspiring you are,
i would be willing to bet my eternity,
that decades down the road,
your friends, still remembering you,
will look up at the stars and see you as a goddess,
exemplifying power and an irreproachable,
peerless, idiosyncratic love and social responsibility
that inspires life itself.

III

you inspire them because since they’ve met you,
your love lighted the way in a fashion
that a bazillion universes of stars and moons could not.

i appreciate you.  they appreciate you.
we appreciate you.  you are surreal
because we all spend time doubting
something so grand could ever exist,
but you’ve got it, that magical divine ardency.
i hope that you never forget to share
yourself with everyone. ranging from the sad stranger
whom you can breathe fire into the third eye of
the already happy friend whom you can bring with you
to even greater transcendent plane of elation.

For the Ecosphere

So alone in a love-filled room. As I journey
Towards my tomb, I fear the impending doom.
I would be everything I should if I could.

Ostensibly at the very least, people don’t believe me.
They don’t agree with my desire to be reborn in a womb.
So I walk around wearing on my head a hood.

So much to atone for.
My sins loom behind and blockade me.
Life gets the best of me in its menacing meandering.

So many reasons to smile galore.
Cuddle with me by the sycamore tree.
I am not going to go out philandering.

I refuse to wager against fear anymore.
It just ends in tears anyways.

It just ends in tears anyways,
So I refuse to debase my intuition and feelings.
You are cut from the same sane fabric of resilience.

Let’s explore our polyphonic ways.
I just want to help break the glass ceilings.
I want to do so by glorifying your ebullience.

I have been a bad dude…
Some kind of mortician of my own dreams.
Imprisoned myself in abysmal regret.

To not inspire wonder is rude.
That has always been on of my themes.
Never wanted my nature to incite disrespect.

Truth is I don’t have time to hate myself, I don’t have time to fear myself, and I don’t have any desire to liberate myself.
But, I do have time tonight to give all of me to you.

Open Mic Night Piece

Oh how wonderful we were.

At least, at times.
We argued so little in the begining that
Even on nights like this
When I have a strangers come on my sheets
I still feel the likes of you in my soul.

With tears in my eyes
I have never felt so cold, naked, and alone.

With you I felt as if I were on a throne.

Yet, tonight, all I feel is twilight
Beckoning me to usher in everything that is someone else.

No one is around.

Terrible it is to be a big heart
In a half-broken world.

In actuality though, it hasn’t been long enough since you’ve been around.

The distance that now divides us
Now seems to be ever the more awful.

Truth is, I have missed spitting that Sean Smith game on the honies.
Who I want next, I shall never tell.

I miss everything about the..
Their hair, smile, teeth, moods, criticisms, lessons, and wisdoms
They all are tattooed on my heart’s soul.
All I have is life goals oh so distant
And no reason to care where the waves take me.

I know I have live life for me only,
But here I am twenty four and at my absolute best.
I guess I never realized I would learn to dislike Christin this much. She is basically stalking me nowadays. Shits real.

Truth is, Fam, it was tough at times,
But poets like you, ever so sublime,
thereupon the reason to my sonneteer rhyme.


I fucking hate this.

Fuck love.
Fuck loneliness.
Fuck dependence.
Fuck caring.
Fuck feeling better.
And fuck anything not casual romance.

I wish I could just stop
preventing the tears so etched into my eyes.

Far from serene or sleepy,
I am still afraid to feel, to cry.

But at last, I am free.

We are what’s good.

Sincerely thankful,

Sean M. Smith

Speechless

Free from the transcendent abyss of apathy,

Empty of all emotion not related to frustration,

Where did all of the class acts go?

Lately, everyone champions poorly placed criticisms.

So many pride themselves upon callousness.

It’s a shame that this is what America is nowadays.

As a bipolar male, I fail at a lot of life efforts.

Yet, I know how to behave myself and learned how to care.

Here we all are America?

Do you think you deserve the glory bestowed upon us?

You might not!

Often, it seems to me that so many are rotten at the core.

Sure, so are polite. But mostly, American decorum died long ago.

So, how do we restore the sanctity of the States?