Monday, May 8, 2006

Earth Spinners: A Response to Obediah’s Poem

There are times when one can only comment:
lovely. Great imagery!
I fear that I too saw such a barmaid;
she was like 8 scoops of my favorite icecream:
too much of a good thing, ultimately just a waste.
CN

 

Bar Maid
of Shanel

slim for him, for Jim

upper body skinny, in a man’s formal shirt
her hips protrude in her black skirt

lovely, fleshy, strong legs
longed for legs like these,
for someone dark, pretty

inexpensive as beer in a bar in the early morning

artificial nails on the hands of a queen,
needing nothing false or altered

priceless as she is, as she appears
like tide washing beach continually

nothing cheap about what is washed up
what the tide leaves

(c) Obediah Smith
www.bestwordsmith.blogspot.com

Posted by at 01:19:48 | Permalink | No Comments »

Wednesday, May 3, 2006

She

She
 

She was my queen
And I lived to serve her.
She was my lover
Thus, I worked to satisfy her needs.
She had my love, my devotion
And my life was within her hands.
I worshiped her and lived to make her life utter splendor.
-But then he came,
Whispering sweet nothings in her ear,
Corrupting her mind,
Making her forget her love for me,
Arousing her lust for him.
But that was then.
-Now she sits alone;
Loveless, with no one to share her passion.

 

(c) ‘Fattening up frog for snake’ 2004

Posted by at 10:55:28 | Permalink | No Comments »

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Earth Spinners: Response to Obediah’s untitled poem

Man, that sounds painful. T’s definately something you should not experience again. Find a better hobby; a recreation which makes one sigh in contentment, instead of scream in anguish!

CN

closing her pussy upon my penis
like a finger being mashed in a door

I holler just as hard

posted by Obie Quiet at 7:26 PM on Feb 22 2006

(c) www.bestwordsmith.blogspot.com

Posted by at 14:23:37 | Permalink | Comments (3)

Earth Spinners: Response to Obediah’s poem

Obie,

Powerful words to say the least! I felt as if I were there eating and slurping ice cream: vanilla with nuts. A big bowl full, with a small spoon, anxious and eager to be satisfied.

There are times, when we must remember to pay tribute, to give thanks for certain gifts, certain pleasures and for certain opportunities. There are times when we should pause and remember that there was a day 7, thus we should seethe to worship, to simply give thanks!

Crack

I could have eaten her pussy like ice cream
I could have eaten ice cream out of her pussy

but I held way back, wanting her to keep her mind in tact

wanting mine in tact to give back to God,
to go back to God with

her pussy, as pretty, as well made as any cone
our minds as fragile

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2005
10:07 a.m. 19/june/05

www.bestwordsmith.blogspot.com

Posted by at 14:17:00 | Permalink | No Comments »

Monday, March 20, 2006

Earth Spinners: Response to Nathalie regarding her concerns about a critique of her performance She Sails

Entertaining indeed!
Nathalie, I read Obie’s inspirational and enlightening critique on your recent performance and was moved.

His words reminded me of a prior critique he did some years ago: a critique of my then upcoming book, “Fattening up frog for snake.” In it he said: “Reading your poems makes me sick of words, sick of the sight and taste of words. I look for forest and all I get are trees. I go to a window not to look at the glass but to look out. Your words must be window, clean, clear. I wish to see through them into the beyond/into what’s beyond. And there is occasionally something beyond but too often your grammar, vocabulary, word order obscure them, mix with them, make mush, make a mess. Your words, carefully chosen, must be fixed in place.”

He went on to say, “You use words sloppily…like a drunk going home, cussing, waving his arms and falling down. What of the cowboy, his two guns drawn, blazing, bullets flying, as steady as a rock with the other fellow falling. Your music (versification) is your one redeeming poetic factor but even this is overused and collapses into monotony…Your choice of subjects I find is worth exploring. There is some message in range of subjects you leap upon and bring together, lashing them round with/in lines of verse. Though I wonder about the strength of each line -of what is each line made -twine, thread, chord, string, wire, nylon? Should lines of your verse all be made of the same material, at least the lines a each single poem? And from where are you pulling your verse chord? From heaven of hell or inspiration or intellect, your heart, your balls or from a sweater unraveling or a sock unraveling? From where is your poetry coming? Are you ejaculating it?”

He then closed with, “Grateful for this opportunity though I seem annoyed by it -though I seem only able to complain.”

I reprinted all this to echo several points.

1. Obie is brilliant and is dedicated to his craft. For that alone, I appreciated his comments. Subsequently, I revisited my work, and saw one or two areas in which Obie was indeed right within his critique. I saw that there existed a sea of words within my work, where one can be easily drowned.

2. I acknowledged, that although brilliant and apt, Obie may have err within his intepretation of my work. (The reason for this opinion, I will conclude with at the end).

3. Obie and I clearly write in different styles, mine require more words and colourful garnish). (smiling); as we write for different audiences.

4. If you haven’t already purchased, “Fattening up frog for snake,” kindly note who wrote the introduction; Mr. Obediah Smith himself. I dare say he lends credit to my masterpiece.

5. Finally, Obie’s books and my book came out almost around the same time. In fact, our books sit side by side in several leading book stores. However, at United Book Store, my book sold out in months, Obie’s books lovely as they are, (I have all three, plus a prior one, not to mention a tape), still lags. At Chapters, my book moves, and usher debates, consequently giving me some positive notoriety around campus. But then again, everyone knows me there. I’ve been there long enough! Also at the Island Book Store, the sales persons requested that I bring more books in due to demand. I have already delivered them three sets.

All this to say, good luck with your venture. Good luck with your sales, and hopefully your next reading is received better!

Regards,
CAN

(c) www.bestwordsmith.blogspot.com

Posted by at 00:27:08 | Permalink | Comments (2)

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Bitch

Bitch
I remember when she was sexy
And had men for miles lusting after her.
I remember how she use to tease us boys
 Shaking her ass knowing fully well that we wanted her.
I remember how she use to taunt and laugh at us;
And how she constantly reminded us that we were just mere pups
Who couldn’t take care of a matured woman.
I still even can remember how her lovers use to worship her body
And how they were so darn eager to please her.
I can remember her scent, her fragrance that drugged us all.
And oh lord, those tits, those beautiful tits
I still can remember how they seemed so freaking perfect:
So frigging soft and perky.
Hmm, I remember her promiscuous ways,
And how much she dreaded being tied down.
I can remember her crying at night, whimpering at the world.
-But all that changed when she became heavy.
And heavy for whom?
Hell, rumor has it, that she’s not all that sure,
But what she is damn sure of, is that she will carry this load alone.

 She is very much different from what I remember…
She no longer has that voluptuous shape
That makes us men hard and mad with desire.
Her once firm ass is now spread and scattered all over the place.
Even her breasts are now heavy and tender
And they chronically beg to be sucked to be relieved.
And oh, I can’t but notice, her once beautiful spirited eyes
 are now swollen from want of sleep,
For they now seem to cry out for comfort.
It is clear to see, that her entire body seems to be one big blob;
One huge damn mass.
I can’t imagine her once being man’s best friend.
 -But, here as I stand in the shadows
I witness her wincing in the dark and moaning in agony.
I see her as she clinched and grind her teeth clutching at her swollen stomach
 I hear her snarling at the world and I listened to her continuous sniveling.
 Its just minutes before she births that which has grown within her,
 And strangely, I can see the innocence within her eyes,
And the bewilderment of not knowing what’s happening.
Oh, look how she appears so loving.
Everything about her seems so perfect,
As I stood in awe witnessing the miracle that she was about to bring forth.
 But, as I was about to praise her pedigree,
Her entire demeanor changed.
Her eyes that rained torrents became crazed and blood shot,
Her smile that once welcomed that which was hers became an ugly grin.
 The tense face that had soften upon the arrival of her offspring
 Became hard and wretched.
And the loving arms that welcomed her new born
 Now pinned and smothered.
 Oh, truly it is a sin to see a mother kill her young.
To see her get comfort and strength from its death.
Oh, it is sad to see this bitch breed,
Only to have a post abortion.
Oh what a paradox to see the birth place
Become the death place,
The nourishing  womb  become a torture chamber.
To see her lick her blood drench mouth with satisfaction.
Oh God, forgive her, for truly she does not know what she does.
Posted by at 02:30:12 | Permalink | Comments (2)

In love with two

In love with two


His eyes were moist with salty tears,
They were bloodshot and were crazed.
His smile was wild and grim looking
And horror was in his gaze.

His clothes were tattered and were grimed,
Stenched with stinking sweat.
His mind was gone, a befuddled mass,
It was obvious that it wasn’t set.

He laughed and shouted of love and pain,
Of lust and the sins of man.
He stated the names of his lovers aloud,
And their failure to understand.

And in this town where lilies bloom,
This legend did come to past.
About a man who fell for two,
And then decided to bask.

A fine young man, loved by all,
A fault that caused his plight.
For his passion and lust tarnished his image,
Even when he tried to do right.

And it is said, that there were two,
Who were the fairest in all the land.
And he in his greatness and in need of f a love,
Decided to be both their man.

And more was said, about an older maid
Who had the essence of the sun.
For, she was hot, a flaming inferno,
And her passion was never done.

A keeper of hearts, a mender of dreams,
A comforter to men that were bold.
A beauty that was sort and kept by kings,
As a treasure as great as gold.

The other was the opposite, young and naïve,
But her innocence was the envy of all.
Rumors of her talents in love and ecstasy,
Did beckon all men to call.

Her eyes convinced men to dare
And her voice did soothe their souls.
Her beauty was worshipped as if she was a queen,
And many men hearts she stole.

As time went on, all seemed well,
For his lordship was happy indeed.
He had fulfilled his oath which no man dared doubts,
He had satisfied his lovers needs.

But a time did come, when jealousy reigned,
And both women desired to be the one.
His lordship refused to be forced to choose
To be satisfied by only one.

His lovers exclaimed their rage and wrath
And decided to be forever alone.
His worship was distraught and immensely perturbed
And he shrieked out an ugly tone.

His face turned pale and he broke out in sweat,
His skin did burn and wailed.
He hugged himself and uttered strange sounds,
And he wore horror as a veil.

And it is said, that in a town,
Where lilies continue to bloom.
A legend is told about a fool,
Who held two women as his own.

And legend claims, that the lust of this man,
Had defamed and corrupted his mind.
To a point where he walked the streets
And drowned himself in wine.

No pity was felt for this wretched man,
As his selfishness estranged his friends.
They looked upon him with shame and scorn,
And many prayed his life would end.

And it is said, in stories and rhymes,
That to fall in love is grand.
But to fall for two and to be loved by two,
Should be avoided by every man.

A glorious story, rich indeed,
An epic of the heart.
A love story, a common story,
-A tale of broken hearts.

Posted by at 02:27:29 | Permalink | No Comments »

I dreamt last night

I dreamt last night

Last night I dreamt that I was in heaven;
However, you were not by my side.
And all I had to comfort me
Were the angels of the sky.

Last night I dreamt that I was in heaven,
And I saw the streets of gold.
I tasted the milk and the honey,
Yet they did not satisfy my soul.

Last night I dreamt that I was in heaven and I cried tears galore
So much that the Father said:  “Please no more!”
Thus, He sent me back to earth to be with you my love
To cherish you, to laugh with you and to simply love.

And last night when I had awaken,
And saw that I was still on earth.
I realized that by being with you,
I had heaven on earth.

(c) Fattening up frog for snake

Posted by at 02:25:33 | Permalink | No Comments »

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Last words of Iscariot

Last words of Iscariot
 
Listen! For you must understand that
I did not know that it would have ended like this.
I did not know the evil that would have resulted from my kiss.
For it was such a simple kiss,
A kiss that I thought would have only spurred on the insurrection.
The revolution that our people for so long was waiting on,
The rebellion that I for so long was anticipating.
But there was none.
For they took you away,
Away from me and away from amongst us.
Oh God, what have I done?
I thought I was helping.
I thought that it was my duty to force the issue.
For it seemed as if only I understood who you were.
It seemed as if no one else knew
Nor comprehended the power that you wield.
I thought that only if I pushed you,
Endangered you, forced your hand,
That you would have had no other choice,
But to use your powers.
And oh yes, I saw the potential within your powers.
I was drunk with the possibilities of what our tribes
Could have done with you as our leader.
I saw how you could have led the revolt against
The Roman tyrants who had enslaved us.
I thought that with you at our side,
Whom would we fear?
For, I had witnessed how you walked upon the waters with ease
And what’s more, I had observed
How you quelled the rough seas with a mere whisper.
Truly, no longer would the ocean be a barrier to our conquests,
No longer would far away Rome be safe against our forces.
Even grim death would not have its sting against us,
For, you gave life to the dead and healed the infirmed.
You had the power to tell the cripple to rise up and walk.
Truly you were the Messiah, our Savior, and the Lion of Judea.
He who had been promised to come and lead us into battle.
Oh how many a night, I had dreamt about
Us marching upon Rome, to be victorious,
For I knew that we had God with us.
Yes, there was many a night that i envisioned the faces
Of the chief priests and Pharisees who doubted you
And how astonished they would be to know that they were
Wrong and that the Messiah, whom the prophets had foretold about
Was amongst us all along.
My Lord, I was ready to fight.
I was ready to be a part of your kingdom.
I was ready to serve and to take part in the riches
That would have come from our great victories.
So you must understand that I did not betray you
For the stinking pieces of silver,
But I only delivered you unto your destiny.
I only assisted you in completing your purpose,
And the pieces of silver,
Well, you can’t blame a man for wanting to make a profit;
For we all know money is the answer to all things.
Nonetheless, I would gladly give it all up,
All to know that you are safe.
I would gladly abandon my desires of prosperity
To know that I had nothing to do with your death,
To know that I am not the betrayer of the Christ.
But who would believe me?
Who would understand?
For I can hardly believe myself.
Oh you treacherous Romans!
Take ye back your dirty silver,
For its blood money and I do not want
To have anything to do with it.
Oh Lord, forgive me for what I have done
And what I am about to do.
And oh treacherous noose, welcome me,
For only you seem to understand and
Have the strength to support my burden.
And as I tighten this beautiful noose,
Let it be known, that I did love the Lord,
But I did not understand his purpose…until now.
Posted by at 08:43:17 | Permalink | Comments (7)

He gone for life

He gone for life
 
Brown skin gal,
I see you there peeping over that government wall,
Trying to catch a glimpse of your sentenced man,
Your big bad man.
Yeah gal, I see you there making them cat calls,
Trying to get his attention in order to cheer him on
Reminding him to stand strong, to represent,
For you have his back and that your heart is his.
 
-But, woman, can’t you see him busy?
Too damn busy for you, serving his time,
Trying to make that dime a day
Just to buy soap and toothpaste to clean his dirty ass.
-Brown skin gal, you better go home and find yourself another man,
A free man to take care them four hungry children you have.
For this man you have here, gal he gone, he left you for life.
Posted by at 08:42:17 | Permalink | No Comments »