douglas brent smith

 Your Face, sketch by douglas brent smith, 1983

i said to you our shoes in the sand your hand in my hand in a trance of truth i said to you my best inner secrets as the sun set and a light breeze caught your brown hair remarkable i said to you touching your cheek with care like a leaf whispering what i should have said years ago there is love that may be delayed but not denied true then, true on that beach. true still. -- douglas brent smith

white cloud blue sky sudden darkness odor from a distant unknown source bitter tasting, no permission chemicals drifted in a virgin course like a losing hand played to a devil's trick for no reason half the town is sick a stranger talking in a legal voice bottled water is the only choice dark days dry from a ruined well twenty square miles of obnoxious smell poison water makes a person think tainted life line not a drop to drink.  -- douglas brent smith

  Say What You Feel -- mixed media by douglas brent smith

  Man on TV -- sketch and poem by douglas brent smith

there were chance meetings distributed miles and months touching us taunting us locking us into a long tight wire of vibrating nuance you knew this, and kept on dancing i knew this, and...what? what  did it mean? how would it turn? oh how we would yearn...oh how we would learn.  

quickly spent all my money at a bar on paradise lane slipping jacks and kings to Fack drinking gin to ease the pain a redhead at the jukebox tossed a glance and smile at me but my libido was incognito and my head was out to sea four sheets to the wind dreaming other people's sins and counting on my quarters all the places that i'd been my hat's my only date tonight my buddy's got the bucks i've got a sweetheart in Chicago who i'm counting on for luck but it's long past midnight and i'm officially flagged drinking shots and eating slices of that cheese tomato pie. -- douglas brent smith

we do not always (read: seldom) have choices or                opportunities to call chances for how                the outcome arrives alive in expectations we       genuflect gyrations to promises unkept and either swept or      wept away you swept me off my feed all      enthusiastic and smiling (a smile that      feels endless) ending spending our hearts ration of       rational being beating so out of tempo either          two hundred beats per minute or paused to a stop          --- douglas brent smith

how do you do it? i'd like to know because it would make it all so much easier it seems to come naturally to you like getting off a bike or combing your hair and you never seem to give it much thought while i can't seem not to how do you do it? because after all this time and so many hard, rough lessons i still have not learned how is it an affliction? is it a choice? befuddled. ruffled. resolute. stuck. tightly held yet no longer held dropped like a rock into a still pond that stays still how do you do it? how do you stop loving someone? -- doug smith 15 July 2019

did i ever tell you that any of that                 mattered or that        holding out hope is what i do best? with your barely open gates closing and your once flirtatious musing silenced you look at me           differently and see another friend                   ending this dance           again ending this           dance again           But, didn't you tell me that you don't dance? -- doug smith

turn the pages quickly; isn't that the sign of a good book? go fast go heady go for the finish have fun be done then run ah, the sign of a good book, a great game and a sad relationship when do you give up? only one right but more rare than caring allows ~ when do you give up? all i senselessly say to that can be never never never never never never never never never never never -- douglas brent smith (c) 2017 douglas brent smith

it was her attempts at perfection that kept perfection away locked up walled in and kept at bay never quite good enough to ever satisfy substantiated reservations proof to deny tell me again why it all had to end no, stop nonsense never bears repeating. -- douglas brent smith (c) 2017 douglas brent smith

it's a foolish wish to say may all your dreams come true                 what about the bridges disappearing in                  perspective?      what about the endless chases? the public nakedness? the lack of words? the demons hiding insecurities in playful sacks of sorrow? let me pick my dream to live that sweet happy ending dream of us together hand in hand and always smiling let me pick that time you looked at me from across the room with a knowing smile that spoke more love than you could say, or contain (or, sadly, sustain) but leave that part out (the sadness in your smile of unbeatable fate) and let me live that dream of                               you smiling                               at me and                               happy. (c) 2017 douglas brent smith

i wonder about you wondering about me, how you might imagine this changed by a kiss or feel the pull of something more whole our gravity keeps crashing but that's no reason to cash it in i wonder about you all. the. time. (c) 2017 douglas brent smith

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

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