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Best Poems Written by Lucas Smith

Below are the all-time best Lucas Smith poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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A Nihilists Very Short Christmas

 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.

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The Rain

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

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A Message of Hope

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

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The Happy Accident of Life

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

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Delusion

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

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Chaos and Being

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

Details | Lucas Smith Poem

Social fcking Media

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

Details | Lucas Smith Poem

Birdsong

At dawn and dusk the birdsongs busk;
The highlights of my day.

I'd gladly waste out every hour,
as they sing out our their hearts for no pay

I'd go without food or water
Until my eyes dried out

My ears bled from the tones

And I'd happily pass away

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My Dog, Pig

My Dog, Pig, 
was a British Bull
A heavy but steady
scary looking fool

She would stand like a statue 
Perfectly hilarious
And balance on things we thought precarious

She faced every day with vigour,
This rumbling tumbling Hog
If there be a stream she could snarfle out
You’d find her amongst the bog

Every call was heeded
By a wide and ludicrous stance,
Oh my sweet little Pig, I'd kill for another chance

She also listened, she knew me well, better than any being
A dog like Pig only comes around once,
The believing is in the seeing


Not an hour goes by I don't ache
And pine for my dog, Pig
Sent by the Gods with a brain a tad small,
But a heart just too big

Details | Lucas Smith Poem

GODs

Faith is a beautiful thing
if you're lucky to be blessed
For as you grow older 
it all becomes messed

As a child it made sense
the stories and fables
As an adult; 
you're the horse that bolted the stables

Wishing you could wrap up life, with a bow
Hoping one day you'll forget what you know

Blame it on God or God's, if that helps you
to understand the psyche behind ‘bombings between curfew’

I pray sometimes to be blessed with blunt faith
to put it all down to, and make me feel safe

But alas the more of the God(s) I do read,
my mind does rot grey for reality's creed;

There's nothing to gain
No points to earn
If hell exists;
we're all going to burn