Dreams still come true in the land of heart’s ash.
During the day, we all wear halos made of zen,
And the angels sing of paradise.
When the lyricist fashions art with a pen,
Too often, the intention does not ripple like the words of the wise.
To not one’s surprise, practice and talent go hand in hand.
Rose bushes line the concrete walking path.
At night, moonlight flood paradise gardens.
Holographic butterflies map eternity
With a mere flap of their wings.
All is not as it seems when it comes to these creatures.
Their features glisten in twilight times.
Their features glisten with these rhymes.
Times are a’changing,
Life needs some orchestrating.
What happened to the flair of the debonair?
Where is the sanctity of the comedic situation?
God isn’t dead but inspiration just may be.
Why isn’t most everything seen as Heaven sent?
Seems to me, this awareness lies across the river Styx.
For all misgivings, may saintly creatures repent.
Where there is paucity, let undulant beauty find its place,
For the immaculate beauty of the world will never be erased.
Here I stand, comfortable and face to face with the divine.
Devoid of anxiety and fears, I pen this final line.
Sean M. Smith
As your emerald ocean eyes
Wait for another pacific sunset surprise,
All is bluish-green, white-capped calm.
Wishes upon dandelions
From forever ago still came true.
Depressively aloof from all things not truth,
Brood like a hedonist around folks
that neither bop nor jive.
I will strive for greatness for as long as I live!
One man sits on a bench.
Not a soul is around.
The riverside sunset
acquiesces into twilight.
The waning crescent moon is a lantern.
Then, come the stars.
Red leaves seem to be spread
against the blue-violet night sky.
Winter’s crisp coldness
seems to frost the sky.
There is a disturbing lack of snow.
I always thought I would age like a fine wine. Instead, I just drank tons of wine for almost a decade. I woke up this morning, twenty-two and nowhere. I never realized that sitting around and making wishes doesn’t make a life. It makes for time passing mockingly and a lonely life.
Sometimes, you meet someone. And, you feel like you’ve known them forever. They same the same thing. Then, a month later, they take it all back. I guess drunken sweet nothings are sometimes just that super sweet but quite nothing. It doesn’t how much I believed in them. They were happiness, an infatuation, that decayed into something less. This is my morning. I will try not to think about it at work today. Not because I am heartbroken. Not because I hope sweet nothings will become my everything. But because I bought the ticket and haven’t taken the ride. And, she is so neat, sometimes, I forget she isn’t all I have in this city. So I will walk around remembering for the next time.
I smoke cigarettes constantly
And drink wild amounts on unreasonable nights.
Struggling to stay reasonable and rational,
Irrationally dreaming of my dead friends who number five now,
I am that unreasonable bachelor, bored and apathetic,
Bounding and dancing to and from existential crises.
I have traversed treachery and ecstasy.
I have writhed and wept and loved many times.
My ascent of the mountain of madness left me tired.
How can the universe still be so remarkable?
How can a bleary-eyed comprehension of existence
Be anything other than utterly exhausting/
The worst times of my life are so arcane.
The universe’s unfolding seems so unrighteous but unshakable.
Perpetually wetting my cheeks with innocence tears for all life,
I see blotches of colors and madness everywhere. I don’t feel poorly about it.
What do you care if I daydream multi-colored sunflowers smooching while playing violas on celestial beaches?
You shouldn’t because I don’t mind. In fact, I love my nature.
I love every moment of this imperfect, bluish green, serene eternity.
My head was in my hands because I ruthlessly pursued a friendship and a dream. I guess my intensity and fussiness bothers people. But I cannot stop. I cannot slow down. And, quite frankly, I do not want to. I vowed to pursue my dreams. And, the clock is ticking. I will be impatient. I will get drunk. I will fuck. I will cry. Wherever and whenever I want. I will truly live out my passions even if it leaves me exhausted and ruined. I will not feel the need to apologize. I am nauseated at how long I felt ashamed of how I act, of my past, of Earth’s history, of my Nature.
I refuse to wait for accomplishment. All is epic, all is well. I vow to be my biggest fan. Not my family. Not my future ladies. Not my best friends. Me! I will never peruse reality for a better me. I am beautiful. I am entirely incredible. I am perfect.