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





Tea and Crackers Interrogation Method

E. R. Smith 2018

Tea and crackers my mother’s secret weapon to weaken our defenses.  We sipped Lipton,  and let loose a mouthful, fears, worried tears, confessions.  We sat in Big Chair in mom’s room.  Big Chair was mom’s ally; worn soft perfection.  Sit and spill.  As soon as she came in from school; mom called, ‘Lizzy you want tea?’  Mom knew something, but what?  She’d been careful to park her backpack in her bedroom chair, “as a habit so I don’t forget anything for school” , she told mom.  Oh…she wondered if her mom would check her backpack?  No, maybe not.  Hope Ms. Bee wasn’t over gossiping and confusing everyone’s business with her own.

Mom brought the tea and crackers straight into her room.  She didn’t ask if I wanted to follow her.  Everything is fine, follow, breathe, sit in Big.  “Did you hear that girl with the blond streaks is pregnant?  ‘Yep, Ms. Bee. ‘ “No, Ma I  didn’t know.”  ‘Wasn’t she your friend?’  “In elementary ma, that was years ago.”  Mom moves on.  How’d you do in school today?  I froze a bit.  “It was good.”  Did mom get a call from school?  The phone rings.  Joey picks it up, “Mom it’s for you.”  I sip tea, and press lips closed to swallow.  Snuggling in Big…  Practice keeping your own counsel, scolds my teen brain.  I can hear silly giggles; mom’s talking to Titi June.  Well, it won’t be long now. More probing after chats done.  I nibble a cracker and decide to fess up…

I tell you mom and her tea…nothing gets past them.

Party Girls Why Do You Hate Me?

©2017 E. R. Smith

Party girls why do you hate me?

You dated early choice boys who forsook me

Always invited to the party or to club

Me? Home studying how to live above

How do I move from welfare to fairing well?

Well, I missed the parties, the boys, your circle of love

Party girls why do you hate me, I adore your pretty babies?

Stopped by every shower to shower you with a first paycheck gift

Left wondering at the ousted feeling on my skin,  a bad whiff

Why do you hate me? I wondered at the choices of mates you mated!

Jealous of the choice boys you sampled in the community

Wanting to be held, but more held above other women, highly rated

I waited….a    long    time.   Saw you all from time to time; raising families

Jealous of the love surrounding you, wandering where mine lay hiding

Graduated BS, MSEd., good job, okay looking lady seeking family

God sent him and then my dearest daughter’s love, abiding

Married black family rare and true, but I’ve done nothing to you

So, why do you hate me, when’ve I’ve only envied how God blessed you?

Too Fresh to Pick

©2017 E. R. Smith

Stand side line watching players ball

Sweat flying, limbs sleek and poised

Alphas in their prime, gorgeous and tall

Ten wonders, beyond average boys

Heart pounding, in awe of design

Taking in all of the whole of them

Eyes large with possible, uncross align

Preparing to pick the best gem

Picky girl observing on high bleachers

Recalled she’s fresh fifteen

Life with these  remarkable creatures

Just for now,  a vivid dream

Creepy Caper Served Cold

©2017 E. R. Smith ,

Slinky sliding, floor warm sticky.  Straight to my goal, aimed   Sounds of rocks on gravel almost deafening.  Room is dark, shadowy like Scooby Doo, when crew enters a place they have no business.  Fan on High, ’cause it’s way too hot.  Crawl sliding, middle of  bedroom behind fan; I stop.  Noise really is loud.  Prepare weapons.  Study victims.  Migdalia, her side, snoring like she’s fighting to breathe, but losing.  Next bed, Mary, mouth open like she’s yelling at ‘Dalia.  Toss my weapons into air.  About a thousand tiny pieces of paper land on them from overhead.  Watch them wake screaming, swatting.  They think insects.  I smile.  Every time they break something  in my room, I feel like swatting them.  Big sister revenge takes planning, maybe losing a night’s sleep; totally worth it.  We are way better at appropriate punishment than parents.