Short Smiths Poems

Tap, rack, bang
It's too late
The gun jammed

Wait

Take my aim
Breathe out flames
You are damned

Prey

You're no mate
You're a saint
Use your hands

Pray

I am fake
You create
For your sake...

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Stone quarry
Stone quarryman
Stone worker
Quarry worker
Quarry labourer
Stone mason
Stone chisel
Cold chisel
Metal worker
Whitesmith
Silversmith 
Tinsmith
Goldsmith
Blacksmith
Wordsmith;
Black art
Word art...

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Dana 'Lynn Smiths .....

to quiet those words within me still,
to sidestep duck, don't have the will,
your verse is for the writing,
strum pluck on the exciting,
and flows the ever quill,
of Sweet Inspiration,
igniting,
till.
the bloody writing....

Don Johnson...

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We're just some teens 
trying to look aesthetic
Posting photos on tumblr 
that are pretty poetic
We wear 90s clothes
We listen to the Smiths
We rebel against humanity
So no one here is cis
We live in our idle towns,
our small town glory
Behind every post
is a different story...

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She struggles with a pen
She is castrated man
Your manic, damned nightmare
She's a dickless sychophant
Overgeneralize
You've fallen for a lie
You're so hopelessly blind
She wields you as a knife
She will cut herself open
She will make you stay, watch it
She will do it again
As long as you're her man
You are not her boyfriend
You are not her husband
She is not your savior
Save your prayers later
You will cut yourself open
But she will not stay, watch it...

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That poignant moment when we meet
Like long-lost friends
So discreet
You look good together
Why do you need me
Is he blind
Is it me
We play the game
It’s nothing new
Hotels are full of Smiths 
Like me and you
I should move on 
You should too
You look good together
Him and you
We plan the next
Somewhere new
Mr and Mrs rendezvous
She’s sleeping now
I gaze her naked way
Thinking to myself
Someday
Turning to hide his shame
The woman with his brother's name....

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