Anti-Sonnet #3

Don’t pretend accost us because of your
politic!
How dare racists wager persons’ children…
Vicious rues all classes of family.
I’m nauseated by poorly placed hatred.
Could be wrong, but I think killing equates
murder.
Indiscretion labeled a badge of honor,
lately.
White, black, or mixed, this is bigger than us.
Quit shaming Booker T. Washington’s life.
We have come too far to go back in time.
We’ve had people threaten to murder us.
We’ve survived people trying to rape us.
Live out the consequences of being.
Treat innocent civilians with respect.
I don’t fear time won’t heal this wounded land.

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Sonnet #8

“She’s perfect,” I guessed.  And, I was right.
Nothing better than sweet, sordid hearts.
No child on the way.  We will remain smart.
During the Red Fall, we explore bliss all night.
There’s nothing better than all too sweet
nicety
Flowing throughout my veins like a real drug.
Misgiving Confessions make for the best
hugs.
Free beautiful ambassadors of what is neat.
Distinguishable whispers of one day love
Conform to my boy-ish figure: electric.
Simply put, I finally feel somewhere
Because I’ve found someone whom care
Hasn’t forgotten.
“Our fits and tantrums sound soft and eclectic.”
We bet our asses and laid on the altar.
Here’s to us, together, without falter.

I’m So Dope

1) This guy called my girlfriend cute on Facebook. So I tagged my childhood best friend in the photo, and declared how pretty she is to me. I proceeded to like his comment that he had no life. Oh how badly I don’t feel about it. I am laughing pretty hard about it to myself.

2) In the past month I quit waking up at two in the afternoon. Now, I wake up before sunrise. If I have learned anything from the experience, the lesson of the AM is never settling for too little.

3) Sure it is important to not lie! Recently, I read an article on Medium that talks about the art of overpromising. Ostensible broken promises receive a stark contrast with lies in the piece. Through juxtaposition, the author inspires his readers to believe that promises are best labeled as dreams that haven’t come true yet.

4) All of this considered, the only thing that matters most is not lying to oneself. Where integrity lacks, Love is dead.

Letter to Followers

So, I start school at the University of Alabama tomorrow…

Truth is, I want to become a mathematician.  And since I love science, my minor is Physics.  To me, there’s something about the way time ticks.  With immeasurable longevity, Time, as well as space, are the arbiters of all phenomenon.  Perpetually pondering feelings, histories, and futures, I enjoy spiritedly daydreaming about the unconscious mind and the perplexing complexity of psychological phenomenons.  You see, to me, any given psychic event can be counted.  It’s impact on the surrounding world can be labelled.  And finally–by following this line of rational–numbers can be used to find meaningful ways of organizing entire societies and industries into being optimizable, profitable, or meaningful.  This being acknowledged, I write poetry on the side because I find it to be a wonderful, therapeutic medium.

Recently, it occurred to me that not many things in this world are constant.  Practicing mathematicians help keep uncertainty in check.  Although I am still early in my undergraduate days, I know that equations hold great truth on how to not waste one’s Time.  You may be wondering why I am so obsessed with time…  Well, I think time is money just like tons of older people.  An economy is something that needs to be stimulated in order to preserve the present technology for future generations, and also, to keep the world at ease.

So much miscalculated passion exists in the world, driving entire nations further into debt.  So many just assume that necessity fosters innovation.  But sometimes along the way it seems to be forgotten that highly trained professionals are needed to sustain so many products.  The scary part is, most resources are finite and the Earth’s resources are being depleted more rapidly than ever before.  No doubt, the world will be very different from now.  Yet, to make the world lush with opportunity is on us as a people.  We need jobs of all types.  Furthermore, the world needs jobs that have not even been thought of yet.  With all of this chaos looming around the corner, the world needs brilliant fact checkers to align humanity’s zeal with the ways of righteous wonder.

For sure, this is why I am going into Mathematics.  I want to be that fact checker that helps keeps us all safe.  What is the present worth if it is not the platform of thousands of years from now?

In closing, I often wonder of what I will become of me when I die, but lately, I am too busy vivaciously being on top of my shit to even worry about it.  With the ability to wonder comes the ability to fall into lusterless thoughts.  As of today, I am done wasting my time with fruitlessness.  If you are a child or parent, may the ways of the world treat you kindly and may you educate yourself however you can.  Whether it be a book, a class, or a converation, living is learning.  And, I believe in the power within all of our hearts to continue making Life on Earth exceptional.

May we all go on to have a great rest of August.

Quite sincerely,
Sean M. Smith

Fresh Start

Talking through tears
And venting about issues
I felt resolution in your words
Regarding another man and pillow case tissues.

I have no secret plan
to undermine your dreams of love.

Played my cards right I guess,
Encouraging you to chase love.
The rest of what the night,
Wasn’t conversation of up above.

Neither a promise of marriage,
Nor a prevarication of kinks,
Can be found in just another

Conversations of ours to date.

Whether we find openness, love,
Or a ménage-a-trois, is up to fate.

You see, I blame not the heavens
For romances’s demise,
For the end of youthful relationships
Occurs, often, in light of new beginnings.

Fear not my casting you with to the shadows
With all of your charm, beauty, and charisma!
And if you are you to unearth someone more
calm, cool, and composed than I,
I doubt I the pain will be more than a harrowing cry or two.

But if it winds up as working out
And isn’t just another lustful bout
If you are someone I can enjoy on the long term,
Then there blessed will be us both.

Estuary: A Revision

I.

My biggest fear is forgetting to miss someone.

Once upon a grim time, I believed something wrong with me.
I thought I was ill-mannered and unloved and weird.

Surely, this was partly true.  For there is, indubitably, a dark side to every moon, to me and you.

But truthfully, I am a giggly, gregarious fool.

You see, I used to delude myself into believing that no one cared about me.
My heart fire extinguished… nothing but useless ashes…

I genuinely adore most people.
Some, I even love.

But I have a bugbear…

I fear I try too hard while trying to make up for lost time.

Possibly…  Possibly I was wrong to think people don’t care about me;
However, the most likely explanation is that I cared too much for the wrong people.

And it stings.

But dammit, there is something extraordinary about you and me, something like a divine spark that will travel and Illuminate the cosmos forever.

So I am not missing a beat.
The moment someone mistreats me
I will be up and on my feet
And out the door never to return.
Not even once more.

Somewhere along the way, I forgot to treat every day like I am with my best friends.

I long to live like this is all I will ever have and I yearn to relive It again and again and again, forever,
Until I finally I become so perfect I burst through the confines of my intellect and spirituality.

I will become something more.
Not something like a God, though.
Something like a starry-eyed wanderer
With a blank slate I get to decorate
With melodious, multicolored visions.

I want to paint some woman’s naked body after passionately Fucking with the lights on because I want to explore the entirety of someone else’s Eternity with no fear of judgment as I slowly pass in and out of a tranquil ocean of cummy peace.

And, my tears for all of the tragedy in the world won’t stop me.

Even if another friend of so many dies too young like Hayley And Stephanie and Mary Kaitlin, I will not cease.

I will not be altered.

I still love so fearlessly that the universe’s heart skips a beat
And begins dancing to the rhythm and blues of my dreams.
And, the universe will know a joy so intense it is like a parent
Holding a child in their arms for the first time.

I will leave friends and chase my destiny across the world
Looking for the perfect glimmer of hope in one woman’s eyes.
And, I will partake in a communion of sorts with my family that
Will love me beyond death and loathing and drugs.

Somewhere along the way, I forgot to treat every day like it may be my last moments with my best friends.

II.

Friends live complex lives of which I am not the center.

Truth is, we don’t know when someone will disappear from our lives; this is scary at times.
But I am starting to believe that the course of my life is unfolding as it does.

This life doesn’t have to be fantastic, poetic, or perfect.
It Simply has to be what is was, what it is, and what it will Become.

I will remain calm, cool, and composed like an Evergreen in the winter frost.

We are all priceless works of art, poems of ourselves, that I yearn to bring with my into my future lives.

Always Bluesy.
Never Ceasing.

Circumnavigation of America’s Psyche

Lack of a shared romance
Shirked by not mistresses
A few friends startle me with their…

listlessness
I do hate this place

Aching like a breaking

heart…
Nauseous from all of the endings
Understating melancholiacs, or fascinations
Everything is vapid and torpid
Something is not always better than

nothing…

Trying not to cry in the library
Listening to Frank Ocean Singles
I cease to give a fuck about anything

Except poetry

Somewhat failing a Master’s program in mathematics,
Utterly incurious about the nature of didactics
All there is to do is live and breathe tobacco.

Laying in bed–sometimes crying–for weeks,
All I long to do is sing in dance in the streets.

Apparently though, anti-productivity is not the capitalist ideal.

Fucking Adam Smith
in the ass with a strap on
That she will never use on me
My alternative universe dream wife whom I call Margaret
though disparaging and exacting
Knows more about the preservation of Life on Earth
Than most any economist to ever exist.

If you don’t believe me, just look up the U.S. debt clock
Truth is, I am a twenty three year old male
With pale skin and a disposition for both elegance and madness

Madame Margaret merely promotes the dream economy
for the sublime is a history, a future, and a totality
Of the innocent infinitude of carousels and spirituality.

Shine on You Crazy Diamond

Somewhere in the land of rotting Granny Smiths
There was a sagacious man, my great grandfather.
Mayor of an island in Croatia, migrated to America.
At least he lived in the Northeast where they don’t starve
the poor and the blacks and the immigrants and the criminals.

But here I am in Alabama–too far away from my family,
friends, snow, and mountains–depressed and America.

And, you know what…

I’m still…

Smiling.