Tag

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

 

 

 

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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.

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.  

Sugar That’s Way Too Spicy!

©2017 E. R. Smith

Double dipped an index into the bowl

The taste pulled back is familiar

Once its possession was a heartfelt goal

But now it is only peculiar?

Hot sauce on grilled meat spicy

Your heat brought out my juicy

Aphrodite strutting feeling feisty

Only ours just wasn’t destiny

Crave ice water to wash it down

Dilute you from sense memory

Spicy turned bitter showdown

Don’t need to commit to a felony

Snatch up girdle, realign breasts

Hop down off high bar stool

Follow just what mind suggests

Sugar,  you’re now too old to play fool!

Tanka: A Sense of Summer

©2017 E. R. Smith

beasts abound landscapes

stretch tendons showcase trained brawn

animals sensing

recess, leisure, no cabins

sunshine hoist mood scads higher