Details |
Lucas Smith Poem
I f*cking love the rain.
Storms are even better.
I love to hear of your canceled plans
As you stand there, getting wetter
I adore the miserable faces it brings
To everyone but me
I ache for the sound of chain it makes
As it rattles absently
If my friend is joined by thunder, lightning, floods and all;
I feel awash and truly blessed,
By the sway of it all
What occurs so blissful to me
in the symphony of splash,
Is the the 200 voices that are in my head;
Concur rather than clash
Copyright © Lucas Smith | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
Lucas Smith Poem
Remember that feeling you used to get,
Like a kid on Christmas Eve.
With all your might, you just couldn't fight,
The excitement of frenzied greed.
Copyright © Lucas Smith | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
Lucas Smith Poem
A Message of Hope **
Seek inspiration in every day
Despite it's cruel intentions.
Find the bitter taste in rain that falls
Delightful just to mention
Learn to love all of your pains
From bunions up to brains.
The voices in your head are friends,
Enjoy their ridicule and games
Romanticise your anguish well,
If not then, what's the point?
Create your own little world of hell
Snort coke, smoke a joint
Whatever you choose to do from here
If you're caring, or if you're crude.
Just bear in mind, it matters not
Your living; is getting screwed
Copyright © Lucas Smith | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
Lucas Smith Poem
I don't believe in murder
Nor anything of its kind.
I also couldn't care less,
You'll be shocked to find.
I don't believe in purpose,
I'd paddle out to sea,
I certainly don't believe in love,
That's fairy tale stuff to me.
I don't believe in God, or God's,
But I don't think we're alone.
I don't believe in good or grace;
We're in this for our own.
I couldn't dream of thinking twice
About this war or that..
The biggest pointless act man found,
Was going tit for tat
Copyright © Lucas Smith | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
Lucas Smith Poem
Tell me the clouds aren't hung on fishwire
That it's chance should trees reach such like a spire
That even with elements scrambled so dire
This Earth can recover and shan't ever tire
At least not in our ages of apes
From a crown of thorns
To a wound that gapes
We keep finding depths
Far deeper down
In our minds and
Our actions
Refractions
We'll drown
Copyright © Lucas Smith | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
Lucas Smith Poem
It's all about f*cking; the pictures and the reels.
The snapshots of sh*t you should know isn't real.
A generation of adults with less hope than the last,
You can't forget your future, like you can't forgive your past
The world is depressed; most have had enough.
Remember when only some of us had it rough?
Those days are as numbered as our very own.
F*ck this day
F*ck this week
F*ck this poem
Copyright © Lucas Smith | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
Lucas Smith Poem
Our entire universe is of chaos
endlessly churning away,
So how the do you expect us apes
To find meaning each day
While we're burning and learning and working for pay
Thinking surely, surely there's a better way?
There
Is
Not
Copyright © Lucas Smith | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
Lucas Smith Poem
What more a f*cking fickle fable
Is found forlorn like this
Full of feeble fallacies
Far from fields of bliss
A word abused like ‘love’
withdraws,
so when it finally shows
It shines too brightly
Or too dim…
And kills whatever grows
Copyright © Lucas Smith | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
Lucas Smith Poem
Delusion must be a comforting thing;
To see the world just how you like.
To give you purpose every day
And let reality take a hike.
But don't be troubled
When I say that;
Delusion
Is just
fine
For the psychopaths and the egg shell brained, swimming in life's brine
Copyright © Lucas Smith | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
Lucas Smith Poem
Every tourist shares a trait;
they're walking, talking, f*cking bait
Who fog up our Earth's finest places
With fat wallets and fat f*cking faces
If you live in a City or by the sea
I'm sure you'll likely, mostly agree;
These scavengers of our landscape may pay cash
but leave in their wake a disgraceful dash
I admire their carelessness;
why should I have any?
The crimes of the few are the crimes of the many
I think I'll be a tourist
And maybe we'll see…
I'll be ‘that c*nt from another country’
Copyright © Lucas Smith | Year Posted 2024
|