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Showing posts from January, 2017

photo: annapolis fence

There is much to see while walking around Annapolis. I found this fenced yard fascinating. (c) 2017 douglas brent smith You are free to use this image. Please cite: photo: douglas brent smith 2016

photo: bernie on the fan

Bernie on the fan. Just because. (c) 2017 douglas brent smith permission granted to use this photo, with the attribution: photo by douglas brent smith

poem: patiently

i want to read every book touch every flower, breathe in every mint aired aroma, laugh at all of your jokes      over again see all of your faces trace the years between us and smoothe the bumpy gaps i want to bake a cake so big it takes a lifetime to eat and create a life so long that all the cake is gone i will have it, i will eat it.      i will treat it as your appetizer for better (much better) days to come and what you can't see now in you in me in us in eternity eternally waits,      patiently for your discovery. (c) 2017 douglas brent smith

photo: 2065 pennington road kitchen

Not sure when this was. It could have been 1978 but it could have been sooner. That's Tom's TV. He always sat close enough to frequently change the channel (except when Star Trek was on but even then, during the commercials) before most of us had a remote control. I don't think any of the kitchen chairs matched. It was, after all, basically a college place. Some of us just had a tough time leaving. Not shown: a likely stack of dirty dishes and a very outdated small refrigerator.

poem: now

Tomorrow. Today. Yesterday. Now. Here we are. Right Now. Now is the time to move, to act, to play, to love, to discover beyond previous intentions, expanded & free        above invisible ceilings &        true to a dream Now is the time for you.        and me What will we do with it? (c) 2014 douglas brent smith

Poem: who we are

who we really are is a frustrating secret locked in chambers dark. filled with echoes repeating what we've been told, taught, and sold clicking away - vibrating in a pulse of rainfall that we do not feel. Sopping, sobbing, wet. who we really are eludes us every corner ghostlike, shadow shrouded wispy drawn sketched on page prepared but torn, tearful, and faded dropping away - ringing in tones of tools we can not carry. We touch nothing uninvited, withheld. who we are is right there in front of us. don't you see it? (c) 2017 douglas brent smith

Poem: hole / under

she doesn't understand my depression               hell, i don't understand my               depression do you understand               my depression? does anyone understand any depression? you grip you hold you bear you               breathe and lurking with no trace of               humor ready to pull relentlessly yet teasingly provocative invitingly suspenseful (oh my what is  this about maybe just LOOK at it a little bit)               a little is too much to digest at once at all i don't understand why she doesn't understand isn't this her kiss? ---------------------------------------- (c) douglas brent smith

albuquerque dragon

photo: douglas brent smith

topeka tollway

from the bizarre ensemble album Bizarre Universe! i composed and recorded this in a hotel in topeka, ks after a long ride from someplace else. hope you get where you're going tonight... (c) 2017 douglas brent smith