On Getting None (by Willie Smith)

the poet Willie Smith
[photo by Susan Sanders]

ON GETTING NONE 

I wanna fuck a none,
wanna fuck a zero,
wanna eat summa that cipher pie.
I wanna get into the habit of nothing at all,
crawl down the neck of an empty,
set the clock back inside my daddy’s cock
to before he wet the face
of that bloody egg that became me and my arithmetic.
I wanna slip into the skirt of a holy ghost
and take a vacuum up the ass.
I wanna fuck a none,
wanna fuck a zero,
wanna eat summa that cipher pie.

There is no tighter than a none,
nothing more loose than a not,
and no taste fits every space like the tang of a zero tart.
There is no easy squeeze outta this hole,
except to drool wholeheartedly at the thought
of eating and fucking a none.
There is no way to lose your grip
on the sad, the sick and the ugly,
but to slip into the saddle of a none,
fuck the reins
and feel the nag run you through the screaming rain
to die in a spasm
on whatever washed-out crust
of a cipher remains.
                                 There is no tighter
than a none, nothing more loose than a not
and no taste fits every space
like the tang of a zero tart,
I wanna fuck a none.

* * *

(c) by Willie Smith, used with the poet’s permission

Willie Smith is deeply ashamed of being human. His work celebrates this horror.
His novel OEDIPUS CADET is available at amazon.com or from Black Heron Press.
His story collections SOLID GAS, GO AHEAD SPIT ON ME, EXECUTION STYLE
and STORIES FROM THE MICROWAVE are collector’s items.
More of his work can be viewed by googling “deeply ashamed of being human.”

See and hear Willie Smith in action at www.youtube.com/wsmith49

And feel free to contact him at williesmith49@hotmail.com

Handguns (by Willie Smith)

the poet Willie Smith
[photo by Susan Sanders]

HANDGUNS 

Handguns are tempting beauties.
They exude aroma that transcends.
They inspire careful thought.
You hear them
scream tiny anthems as they hurry away,
heart deadset on life
perfect as a target.

But at twilight
handguns sob to be unloaded and left alone.
And no one listens, because their tears
are like piano wire begging to be hammered,
because their triggers
hang out like tongues frozen to a fencepost,
because their sad beauty repeats

to the instant of inaction. Once jammed,
their barrels take on the look of tombstones,
as if the dead remembered.

* * *

(c) by Willie Smith, used with the poet’s permission

Willie Smith is deeply ashamed of being human. His work celebrates this horror.
His novel OEDIPUS CADET is available at amazon.com or from Black Heron Press.
His story collections SOLID GAS, GO AHEAD SPIT ON ME, EXECUTION STYLE
and STORIES FROM THE MICROWAVE are collector’s items.
More of his work can be viewed by googling “deeply ashamed of being human.”

See and hear Willie Smith in action at www.youtube.com/wsmith49

And feel free to contact him at williesmith49@hotmail.com

Today I Go (by Willie Smith)

the poet Willie Smith
[photo by Susan Sanders]

TODAY I GO 

Today I go talk to the waves.
They take right out of my mouth
and toss back in my face the words.
Think I try to talk about repetition,
but not sure; neither
of the try, nor
the repetition. Only of the talk
am I sure.

The waves repeat: Reach high.
Only then might I crash with might.
I tell the waves to suck back.
I came to talk. Now
I must hear myself think. I think,
now, in a rare trough,
they think the same thing – no thing – thing
of which nothing is the mirror.

At last make out I tell the waves
to leave time to take a long look
into the mirror, to make sure
nothing still there is not.

On the way to the void
let nothing bother you,
because nothing will.
Wave hello. Oh, hell –
wave goodbye.
Today I go.

* * *

(c) by Willie Smith, used with the poet’s permission

Willie Smith is deeply ashamed of being human. His work celebrates this horror.
His novel OEDIPUS CADET is available at amazon.com or from Black Heron Press.
His story collections SOLID GAS, GO AHEAD SPIT ON ME, EXECUTION STYLE
and STORIES FROM THE MICROWAVE are collector’s items.
More of his work can be viewed by googling “deeply ashamed of being human.”

See and hear Willie Smith in action at www.youtube.com/wsmith49

And feel free to contact him at williesmith49@hotmail.com

From a Dying Cockroach (by Willie Smith)

the poet Willie Smith
[photo by Susan Sanders]

FROM A DYING COCKROACH

Life never promised much… born
in a crack, raised in a cage of gargantuan construction,
tortured by a crew of sadistic gods
whose every casual step
could spell butchery… chased
with rolled newspaper and swatter… days
holed-up in the tv, the radio,
the washer, the dryer, the radiator, the drain;
nights hustling over floors and up walls,
flushed with total fear and garbage lust…
blind feelers wary of death from above
or oases of more trash to gorge,
but useless against the greasy poison…

now, as the petroleum distillate
clogs a last orifice,
I pray my children thrive
and spread the gospel of fear in tight places.



* * *

(c) by Willie Smith, used with the poet’s permission

Willie Smith is deeply ashamed of being human. His work celebrates this horror.
His novel OEDIPUS CADET is available at amazon.com or from Black Heron Press.
His story collections SOLID GAS, GO AHEAD SPIT ON ME, EXECUTION STYLE
and STORIES FROM THE MICROWAVE are collector’s items.
More of his work can be viewed by googling “deeply ashamed of being human.”

See and hear Willie Smith in action at www.youtube.com/wsmith49

And feel free to contact him at williesmith49@hotmail.com