When Eyes Wander Around My Corners

E. R. Smith 2018

Wonder about those eyes curling around me,

as I lick my treat,

Orbs sailing all about me, weighing hide,

scaling seat,

Want to whisper of my afternoon, loving,

splayed laid rough

Pressure buildup, squeezed, long way past


Upraised eyebrows assess my calves, amused wonder,

Oh if only I were interested to share their world of  plunder?

Sigh, eyes roll, my soul, should I testify?!

Rally against ignorance, fatal misjudgements, apprize?

Lay bare all facts, artifacts, demonstrate false surmise

But to lift these lids, No!

Ignorance deserves no prize.



Fresh Squeezed

E.R. Smith, 2018

Assaulted by youngsters in backpacks.

Backing in to unaccomodating spaces

Parents, glaring staring, shut your yap

Say nothing to my young, I’ll kill your village,

Don’t dare groom mine, they’re not fresh!

Polite is un-relevant, we’re here to pillage

Sharpened elbows at my sides, as you swipe

Focused squeezing, communicating with dark net

Grey heads shake at brute, who continues to type

Transit,  precarious microcosm of disdain

Populace on edge, shoving humanity

Bus and Train rumbles as brains drain


mad graffiti



E. R. Smith, 2018

Throwed up the sour crux of the matter

Call me vandal, huh? Where’s your plan for me?

Infrastructure F–Ked up since my pop’s feet pattered

Demographics show me last on the list….maybe, we’ll see..


This battered wall, reminds of  vivid existence

Slapped woke, retaliating for unprovoked focused pain

This passive palette, path of least resistance

Styling a marching movement, more than for ihe slain


World  peep gifts possible in all!  Nourish satiate the multitudes

Burning bombs on the wall bleed, crimes of exclusion

Artists fists lash out; violent pigments glow, unchecked attitudes

Opportunities for the red blood born,  won’t suffer occlusion




On the Birth of This Day

E.R. Smith 2018

Crack the Dawn shows me a mosaic

Almost a tapestry, the edges fray with light dust

A symphony of a life lived, striving strong, algebraic

Dense thick stubborn reaching fibers

Indomitable pattern; organic thread follows ancients

Linking from past weaving designers

Etching an art for present time; keeping relevant

Intricate paths sewn; with no apology

Dawn’ brings a bright appreciating testament

The Shape of a Woman

E. R. Smith 2018

Molded round, impervious; taking on weights and tolls

Angled sharp, quick, multifaceted

Stong straight throughout storms; raising barricades

Patented abilities,  unfragmented

Turns hexagon to rhombus, clearest diamond

Inspiring humanity with the feminine

Crafting both art and war; lovely siren

Feelings of Fear

©2017 E. R. Smith

A block of ice lays the head

Bites into the brain

Crams darkness like lead

Drives one insane

Evil is this blatant insanity

Fear the power consuming

Grave the battle, calamity

Heart-felt power dooming

Icy prickles spread down spine

Just in time to catch doubt

Killing hope of life divine

Leaving  bitter drought

My soul glistens when vaporized

Numb tears shed  its loss

Owning a head beaten traumatized

Phantom unseen touches toss

Quiet mind down and determine

Really, is it there?

Sane is it,  to house this vermin?

Tear now at angst’s snare

Unseat it from the crown

Visualize strength inside

Will Force to beat it sound

X-Gen worries easing stride

Years of prayers  Mighty pound

Zen reached  Love drowned sigh




Am I Wicked?

I wrote this for the bloggersmeetup; thought I’d share it here too.


Source: Am I Wicked?



Am I Wicked?

©2017 E. R. Smith

Standing before my opinionated mirror, conversing,

“You are so  wicked”, Mirror announces

Cutting eyes, I warn my accessory I will not hesitate to shatter him

“You are a wicked queen”,  Mirror reminds

I ponder,

Yes, I have wicked symmetry to my face

Wicked curves cut my breasts, hips, thighs causing upsets

My tummy is only a bit naughty, four out of six packs

“How wicked am I?”,  I ask, fishing

“Well, I watched you engineer a coup on that young man,”

“He became minion, following an impish grin”,

“Let out fiendish wails as you assaulted him”

“Wayward strands of hair tangled his speech”

“He is enslaved.”

Parting full lips, showing even teeth, a devilish smile

“Yes”,  I admit, “I am a bit vicious”

“But, that young man would concur, my wicked is good.”