Minuscule cockroaches creak
Conspicuously around the crude crumbs
On the dusty kitchen counter,
And tadpoles squirm in the cremated creek.

The porridge poured itself
For the poor stray kitten,
Who was too spritely
For eureka's euthanization,
Triumphant in trespassing
The proximity of the porch.

Meanwhile, the revolving rover
Imitated the raunchy rocket ships,
Launching like fervent fertility
Interceding September's secret,
Sacred admirers of ethereal pyres.
The sepulchre's soma
Spread from the peach's center
Like the terrific thighs of a virile *****.

Jurassic travels ,
Machines running on ancient carcass,
Annulling the terra firma
Of its aloe vera-like virginity,
And courtesans adorned with jewels,
Pretending to be Aphrodite?

Just as Jupiter does,
Joy wears covetous rings..


Originally written 8/12/11
Revised 10/19/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

I'm the
Sun patch on the grass
In a dark storm.
Here I am:
Rain and sunshine cascading down,
With you
Parting the clouds.

I take my knowledge from architects, medieval painters and galore.

I walk along the stretch of times, Read the Canterbury Tales from folks of yore.

I've written literature in my own dialect, through the beautiful English language.

I find awe in the act of creation, new etymologies where old writers anguished.

My words: symphonies of the beloved and dead Beethoven; like the arias of Wagner.

I am the high priest, the new catholicicist propogandising as your Cardinal.

I am the spiritual technology, provided to the ailment of what we call society.

I am the new Ghandi, the Dalai Lama deservedly inspiring your piety.

I am the Luciferous angel of life, breathing heaven through the cesspool of Earth.

I am the post-modern Romeo and Juliet, Warhol's 15 minutes of fame and worth.

I am the Alexander Mcqueen, the metaphilosopher of fabric illusions.

I am the lyricist of society, speaking through the castrated eunychs.

I am Stephanie Myer, inspiration of vampiric genius to adolescent impressionables.

I am Jane Austen, author of new age thrillers such as The Secret and Lesbian Misérables

I am the eclipsing of twilight, the post-mortem autopsy of a rotting cadaver.

I am Heath Ledger and Michael Jackson, legends inspiring a race of sleeping pill grabbers.

I am the Blockbuster, the Titanic Avatar, $4.9 Billion to children in poverty.

I am Gangnam Style, 2.5 Billion viewers of the Palestinian Bombings.

I am modern philosophe, the birth giver of Socrates, Plato, Nietzsche, Derrida.

I am Steve Jobs, terrible father, tyrant and billionaire technological reliever.

I am God, the predeccesor and successor of all eternal life.

I am Satan, damnation and strife.

I am Tupac, rapper of gangster warfare. Inspirational to first world degenerates.

I am Oprah, most powerful black woman with white hillbilly aesthetics of Ellen Degeneres.

Thank you, to world's only true Genius.
Hail Kanye West, our one and only revered Yeezus.

TV light glints from pale fingertips.
For how long have I been passed out?
The longest I've been dead is nine whole days.
Stirring in pitch darkness to faraway sounds
delusion of two dark cracked lips upon mine
infect long loved texture with bitter hate.
Now from Heaven a hand rips off the roof
godly divine bound in rags soaked in proof.
"Drink of me, drink me down."
I'm left lone and uncovered under basalt skies.
"Drink now, drink forever."
Here I'm left vulnerable to you and that original knife.
"Drink down, drink down, now."
So swallow, I think, swallow.

Pressure from within building, pushing out
ruptures suddenly leaving a cold head hot.
Twisted highway we ride quakes spewing black
broken fragments through white eyes as glass.
Hungrily ******* for life, skyward again.

TV light glints from pale fingertips.
For how long have I been passed out?
Falling, with unfolded wings.
Dreaming, luciferous dreams.
Burning, brightly nine days straight.

I bring and bid you drink from two leaking lips.

Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])

From Princess Esther Fatouma,
The future queen of lies and deception
Dear ALLAH Elect, the most high,
Who blessed me with the powers to cheat
My luciferous pleasure to have contact with you,
Based on the pathetic and critical condition I find mine self,
Though, it's not financial problem,
But my health you might have known
That cancer is not what to talk home about,
Though I don't know you, but your are my sweet victim
And my contact with you was not by mistake,
But by the divine favour of ALLAH the maker of I the prankster

I am married to Mr. Mohamed Sule, I love him dearly,
My husband worked with Tunisia embassy in Burkina Faso
For nine years before he died in the year 2008.
We were married for eleven years without a child.
He died after a brief illness that lasted for five days.

Since his death I decided not to remarry,
When my late husband was alive
he deposited the sum of US$ 2.2m, waaa!
Two million two hundred thousand dollars,
in a bank in Ouagadougou the capital city of Burkina Faso
It is a wonder why all this sonnetic fortune,
In west Africa Presently this money is still in bank.
He made this money available, minus chains
for exportation of Gold from Burkina Faso mining.
Recently, My Doctor told me some thing new;
I am yet to visit the land of my ancestors, my husband
That I don't have much time to live because of the cancer problem,

Having known my condition,
I decided to hand you over this money
To take care of the less-privileged people,
You will utilize this money the way I am going to instruct herein
I want you to take thirty Percent of the total money for your personal use
While seventy percent of the money will go to charity
  Helping the orphanage and all those that are homeless,
And I pray that you are foolish enough to provide your bank details
You would have converted yourself in to over parented orphanage.

Poem may: not be finished/change *

Like a teenage boy.
Practically A prepubescent adolescent
out to late, with limited restraint
trying to cop a feel,
attempting to achieve an unreal ideal.

Im not sure if ill ever succeed and complete my masterpiece
before it is lost to the terra-cotta floor
like my mind is lost to amphetamine with the last of my *** appeal,
seldom seen.
Just a mandala memento of strange LSD daydream
From back in Hawaii when I was at eighteen.

In actuality
I am a mer twenty and stressed by the precent
attempting to be more than an empty brunette beauty
Bewildered by his words and left splintered.
In a dark world, void of a vice in paradise.
Wanderer, wanderer, you’re lost evermore.
Far to awkward to adore.

I'm all around 5'7 and 98 to 105 lb on a good day.
Sounds great if you wanna be castaway
By people that don't understand first hand
And demanded you to eat to gain some meat.

Though the ladies, who aren't jealous of my boney pelvis,
Say I'm paragon in every which way, a totally dime.
But to the fellas I'm hella undeveloped.
A kyphotic crescent moon that keeps getting slimmer.
But the truth is they wouldn't have fulfilled her either.


Because I am the luciferous prosperity of celtic kings.
An authentic relict of a noble bloodline
Twinkling, as lore to an all distant past.
a la belle étoile
'Under the beautiful star'; in the open air at night.
An eclectic aesthetic
Living in perpetual summer sublime,
Who could have dreamt, there was such a thing.

Some scrawl the names of people present and past
Some drench theirs in pearlescent candied nacre
Shapes and hues exact, stencilled down to the last
Pretty copies of individuality

There are those who have it forced upon the face
Growing into it, it feels more natural
To don that dress, to hit the gym and say grace
Becoming the things they are needed to be

The flawless surface ever in flux stirs and returns to slumber.

Still others, indecisive, searchful, hover
From pile to pile, over fractalised discards
Picking out their newest favourite cover
For their brittle blandness blushed by exposure

Mine has grown inwards, claws entrenched beneath skin
Reverse quicksand; raking scars old and fresh
Valour marks in the battle I cannot win
My silence percolates. Outside it accretes

It glows in flickers of luciferous fluoroscence, firefly flashes.

Hope is but another addiction to break
Yet this air hangs heavy, toxic to inhale
A frigid gut burn with every breath I take
Soulful tremor smothered in despair's cocoon.

Fingers roam my jaw. Phantom edges they seek
Futility dawns. It has long disappeared
As have the haunting echoes of devil-speak
I have swallowed it all as it consumed me

It changes, chameleon-like, dissolving pixels on a screen.

Is it me, or am I it? It matters not
Its pulse fills my veins with something close to life
Yet I musn't bleed - the fluid does not clot
It leaks slowly like a punctured memory

Inside nestles the tangle of cobwebbed dreams
Silken sojourns unwittingly petrified
Quavering mutedly to my stifled screams:
You cannot, you shall not, you must not come in!

How and who decides
what
of these concepts to set
aside and which
        if any
Can be kept as set B-side
are manic.

We are kept here set here
beside our mania.
Inept except
We are exceptional at
our accepting our own
Any hour expecting
A guest is alone
A guess is unknown
As the guest refuses to show face or take name
Every one is the same,
And no one can be traced
So they claim that the taste
Left behind if the waste
In the wake of
Of the infamous singlular
Luciferous shadow...
Like as of the malicious
Behavior in which the
New users partake
Which is enough to shake
Many a good man foregone the
Veil of anonymity
Revealing the reason at the base
Of why so many of us fail
This game, we're frail
It's cold
To survive we lie,
And sail
And hold
Onto this thin veneer hoping
The world wI'll buy how we try to
appear
...I propose we are all driven by an inability to cope with our fear.

How and who decides
what
of these concepts to set
aside and which
        if any
Can be kept as set B-side
are manic.

Through Z we see that
everything is semantic.

how little time
but thank god
i can think these thoughts
and then
later struggle like
King David before
the Pslams
and leave only "holy books"
behind
and i saw myself in fire
before the water
on a beach
and i was eyeing a mountain to
climb
in my harvest i counted
the waters
from heaven rain on the earth
and give us
rivers
and lakes
and i worked geology from stone
and ice
comes god **** big wig
me...
"''"
and the '""'
sound the difference:
Iouses and luciferous are coming home
i am returning from the Islands
of Hawaii
from England
to Poland
and i asked the Polynesians!
i asked them!
rid me of western individuation
phiolosophy
and the End Result
the Atomized Man
EUROPE AWAKE!
EUROPE AWAKE!

EUROPREWAKENBEWOE!WOKE!

fake born
i have an accent
i am a foreigner
but these sons are mine
i loved
the English Youth
and i gave them black clad bicycle gang
membership
and i saw them cycling down
ny street
even my father
i think of god closest
my father my mother and god
the distant youth
oh rhyme when i think of you
how immortal the flame of the shield
the immortal flame of
the mediocre field injenction jive
and jibe...
jibe..the minds are at work to get
the jyst
i am writing in English
yety Pope
YETI POPE
DEVILs WORSHIP
it's a Miltonian Democracy...
watch **** play guitar
get a milk and mIFl...

  because i have spaceship ***
gets me ***** and egos
into the stars
i'm actually using
****
to find me *******
i am aiming
******* is whiskley
is good...

the bgrvity of one the gravity
of one
the Himalayyaans and Ann Anne please
i'm a married man
and labour comes
free market
i open a book of poetry
like a priest opens a book of the bible
i am warrior
i am priest
i am the first and last responder
Nottingham Forest
Biblo ******* Baggins
the Prodigy
Hiblo Gillbtr
Hillbruh
like pianiast
****-Israel
not Christian-

.......................
..........................
.............­.......................

long long pause...
we talking
Hiedegger
bishop cardinal
CARDINAL
and (pope_

like sign language i think
pause...
   pause
the flies are gathering
and the blue bees and
the indececie
in de'en CCs...

          SMOCZEK
ja
WIDZE...
to tonna polskiego
kto ja trwam i zmacvh
in ten chwyt w pravo:
O tem: tan tan tan-tan-tan
tantantan  000100010001
pytam:

nie o slowo:
wskazufka:
numer: err err

pytam BINARY
PYRAMID
THAMES IS EYE
of ALEXADRIA
vowels are 1
consonnants are 0
there are more of them O
0

()
[]
{}

i pray there's hope
no from one puddle of the world
like London
but from poor Poland...
a Pope
a learning prospect of the the Late Roman
Empire...
i am the pope of the Navigation and
the Dead End people of
this world without
Nation
or skin beyond deep
orange came from pink
dust and protest
i will see
the driving in living
and given so much of life
learn to ride a horse
HUSAR do DOMU
HUSSARJA DO DOMU
ZAWRACA....
ku temu domu ja wracam...
za i wy wy wy
jak tak blisko Arab stoji
i ten kwota(,)
pleaese let us pedantic i told you
colt
stay away from my girl
i wonder
she asks me
i know my shadow
and your *** is spaceship
believe me girl
i am loving you i'm at the cruxres-vegna...
VEGNA-Road...
moim: to polskim
to znad Landu... i to powtarzam:
tego blosko:
bosko:
i tego z siebie dam
dam wam znac
za EZTDEM...
RZY consta Z(.,') YDA....

    pokwitewanie...

  pok kwi t'eh o'h w'annnia...

desert and the dessert of Rome
the myth of Greece
and Democracy...
i see Rome confiscated by both
Greece and Islam
Greece is already under Islam!!
Greek is imbued with the Love of Islam...
Greeks have
abandoned Christianity
when
they listened
to the 1 + 1 = 2
\if
if/

    here you are: and i am: black
and priest...
the English can be the last civilizational srtate
of being
and you can be excused running
naked
i wonder
the poets and the priest
who youi want c.c.t.v. from god
with the priests and poets
and i wonder
how the poet-philosopher
poet phiolsoopher priest
anfd she
is
poet prostititute
tutti frutti
mother
maiden
not another P or Ps or P...

oh right...
i'm a winner because in ****
i bandaged
the right *** right
and i'm hearing the aid
LESBIAJBANJO
BANJOLEZZBOHWOH...

i'm getting the grit of
the [personal with
the grit infused:
there's the locality:
a: locality:
there are other funeral dewvices..
the article beyond the
definite and indefinite article
the plural
article and the possessive article
and i will not do this job
on hte page,
nail... and the cursed lips
i aseked wind and Barking *******...
invitation to do your work
cherish is:
long before
there's a time of keeping signifying memories
like impassable objects:
a res cogitans can't pass through the res
but a res extensa can
res extensa is telepathic and
myopic and reptile:
in ape in waiting...