Modern poetry collection by contemporary Cleveland poets Lady & Steven B Smith
reading room 31 Lady & Smith's City Poetry reading
Poetry Cafe London England 17 August 2007
Lady hosted a poetry reading at the Poetry Cafe for the London contributors to her online zine City Poetry. She and I closed the reading by standing together at the mic reciting these 16 poems back and forth one at a time - her first.
June, where were you
when Ward came home?
It is your time again
You were in the kitchen, chopping delicately
saying yes dear
and your lips were so gothic
June--I imagine you with
Lucy
on the chocolate line
instead of that fatty
or with the Beatles in India
swallowing swords
strings of pearls
coughed up from your stomach
or in some Edward Gorey Story
Or in some place
where They
would worship
your breasts
build temples to them
twin towers
to capitalism
and the American Dream
and you and Lucy
(that kook)
could go to some other jazz club
cuz Ricky is so
dominating so
machismo
or maybe you just sit in a back
room on “chintz” cushions
reading Ayn Rand
in Black Frame Glasses
which are back in style again
like noire, nukes, and intellectualism
and you would be in black
with black on black shadows
and the pearls?
I can imagine a lot of things for you
June
and it is much better than just
being
Beaver Cleaver’s
Mother.
in her long hair where it is gray
from periods when she's more sick
than less sick.
She is amazed she has anyhair, says
"All the wires fell from my parts."
Her Man Dan was in Vietnam.
He's a gun man, for sure.
She says,
"The one good thing he
did was to teach our sons
howta handle guns."
Her Man Dan was home, she knows.
Another pound of burger
is gone from the freezer.
On Friday gravy drain
when her pay was docked,
she told me -- as she cried --
her Man Dan put a gun
to her head and she said,
"You'd better KILL ME DEAD."
Pain from one end to the other
Plagued by a black cloud of druther
It’s the “I Ain’t Got No White Boy Blues”
Though I got no honey for spreading
And there ain’t no money attending
Yet I ain’t got no White Boy Blues
For I’ve roof over rising
A warm bed abiding
Friends fond and affirming
And a past that’s worth hiding
So I can’t get no White Boy Blues
Possessions don’t taunt me
Though lessons they’ve taught me
Like inner, not outer be
And better to let be
The quicker to be free
The taught me do teach me
I ain’t got no White Boy Blues
Yes, it’s a sadness I’m lacking
Or, life’s licking I’m liking
But that’s why I got those
“I Ain’t Got No White Boy Blues”
Because we are all complicit. I
Am a margin, better than 0, but
Not good enough for sacrifices. If
The woman of your dreams was
Walking by would you leave me?
Probably. I am not a yes woman.
I will not come to your astrology.
All the children are grown up.
All the holidays are sad.
All the pets are dead.
Scamper little bunny
Run for cover fast
Protect your carrots
Forget the nest
The fox is hungry
The wolf he wants
Bunny tummy
Plus all the rest
Of the critters
Of forest
Far larger than you
Are looking
For cooking
Material too
So run funny bunny
My money’s on you
George Bush is too stupid
To ever catch you
Said the souls of the slaughtered
To the living few
Said the souls of the slaughtered
To the living few
I’m an oven cleaner baby
Come to scrub your grill
Yes this oven loving man
Mean to steam your grill
Get the heat back baby
Flame and fire the thrill
I’ll rub your rust off lady
Get your grid to shine
Rid this mood of maybe baby
Lady let me lick your lime
Make much meat that might be
Moistened by munching lightly
Juicy, prime
Gonna grease your grill
Put the heat back baby
Then, send you the bill
I had this fish,
of secretive eye and diaphanous fin.
He’d lazily brush me,
then slight quick eyelid flip
to deep inside hook heartworm hurt.
He was in shallow waters
where all grew warm quickly
from the light of the sun
and he’d grown large
belly up bubble burst
in its generosity.
I had this toad
of jeweled eye and scaly bubble.
I picked him up to admire his pattern,
for I am an admirer of minutia.
He was a Classical/Medieval Studies scholastic toad.
He had difficulty
croaking out the hundred or so conjugations
of paidoo-oh.
I was ready for him
with the tutelage of my kiss.
I just wanted the texture of his bumps
and the sting of his salt on my tongue.
Get the truth
Get your red hot truths
Truths du jour
Truths of the day
Today's truth today
Your style of while
Your version emergin’
Too truths
Truce truths
Which truth you want
We got em all
Today’s truth at today’s price
For today’s people
Step right up
Step right in it
kleenex xtra
It ain’t age.
It ain't sex.
It ain't race, religion, height,
gender, color, class or learning.
It's path, progress and position.
The road not not taken.
Be here now.
Hear now
oh eyes unseeing
oh ears unearned.
We're all perfect potential
cept maybe republicans, lawyers,
the true organized crime called police
the true whores called priests.
You can walk on water IF water wants.
Just ask.
Walk willing.
There ain't no dark night's ungentle light.
Ain't nothing outside but lies.
But even lie true ain't for you.
Walk within.
Don't need no god.
No catholic pimp pushing blood feast.
My lie's mine.
Walk my own walk.
Fuck the talk.
Grasshoppers gone wrong become ants.
Bad ants cry uncle, cry wolf, cry baby.
Goats goad sacrifice to sun.
Ritual requires repetition, release.
Nothing stays river's run
but drought's dry dirt
(and river still runs).
Rub your ears together.
Start a fire.
Flesh alarm.
Let gone go.
Lock lip.
