Less We Forget

hungry for pussy
have you forgotten me
have you forgotten mine

forgotten when I used to be yours
you used to be mine

when not even air in the room
or breeze from outside
could get between us

pressed together, sweat, yours and mine
on our sweaty bellies

did I not used to satisfy you
used to satisfy me
though I was quiet about it
reticent and admitted nothing

I was in those episodes also
on ecstasy's edge
about to fall in, about to fall over

want me again, have me again
not gone anywhere, want me bare
except for pussy hair
except for perfume

want me in your arms, want to dance

warm against warm, who can retreat
from shores of love
from waves washing up

knock up against the rock of your cock
why was it never inserted in me
shoved in me

with it why did you never fill me up
I can only dream of the length of it
inside me,
inserting and withdrawing it
I shaking on it

two fuckin' lovers, two lovers fuckin'
until Vesuvius erupted


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
12:49 p.m. 28.07.10

Country of Love Poetry
for G.M.

write you a poem here and now
you'll see the earlier ones later

love up against me
like weight a trainer
with all his force, with all his might,
throws to boxer in his care

boxer he is preparing for a fight
a bout, a championship match
and wants him, without a doubt,
to win

Gladys,
with what force you fling love to me
up against me and I must catch it
or be knocked down or knocked over

what does love weigh
as much as a punching bag
or is love as light as a beach ball

this is exactly what I have been avoiding feeling
this is exactly where I had been avoiding going
ever since you happened into my senses in Havana

we were in that garden,
planting trees on the premises of that house
dedicated to Ernesto "Che" Guevara

“I've published 13 books,” I said
to who I was in conversation with beside me
and you said, “That’s a lot!” in the sweetest voice

I turned and beheld the sweetest face
you wondered off the instant after
and my eyes followed and I was informed
that you were married,
that you had two daughters
and I groaned, disappointed
that already you were taken

my heart, with every encounter
wanted to gallop and I held back
the horses of my heart

with my most recent message from you
those horses of my heart
have broken their reins, their leather straps
and galloped forth and whinnied
and got up on their two back hooves

I screamed with them too
in response to your concluding
term of endearment,
“Sweetheart!” you called me
and that was too much to contain

I asked you once, do you recall
it was that nigh on the bus together
you and I in conversation
going through the dark from Las Terrazas
back to where we lived in Havana

what do you do or what do you erect
to prevent someone who might be inclined to
from falling in love with you

you laughed it off, brushed it aside
it was nothing you suggested
you needed be concerned about

you are so modest
you say you do not even see
that you are pretty to a degree
that it is for some unbearable to behold

I was hinting at the fact that
I was even then experiencing symptoms
of the affliction of being in love
of falling in love with you

I wanted you to know
that it could happen
I was begging you to shut your blinds
to shut me out

asking you to save you and to save me
but you were then and you've been since
cruel, merciless

making yourself as lovely, as sweet as can be
you have been divine to me
and what am I to do but fall down weak
collapse in a heap at the feet of loveliness

what then, what now,
how ever can you or can we
deal with that, with husband
two daughters, more than two hand
and two arms full already

how can I expect you to embrace me
or to make me tea
or to butter toast for me

Jesus, I could kiss you
and love you and lift you off your feet

but is such love not redundant
to be carried away that way
with one with a kite to fly already

Oh God, Gladys,
you have touched my soul tonight
I cannot pretend that you haven't

I can go this instant, wrap my naked body
in your beach towel, one you gave to me

wrap it around me
as if it were your arms and legs
and you were bare too


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
10:35 p.m. 30.07.10

Love on Trial
for D.B.A.

i.
she can cause people to end up
at each others throats

those in love with her
those whom she loves

at her graduation, I was there
invited to attend

there were other boys in her life also
coming together there

they could have clashed
sound of cymbals could have resulted

slaps could have resulted
kicks, punches, fists flying

blows thrown, friction and sparks
here and there flying

generous or foolish
who she'd include
insist upon not leaving out
could end in a ring
boxing it out

in a boxing match
contesting over
what you thought
your very own

over what you thought
you had already won

instead you find
you are but one of many
of a few men she's attached to
and wish to involve
in love, in war

and according to Stevie Wonder
all is fair in love
all in war is cold

ii.
is she able still to appreciate
my looking at her hard

have to look at her hard
pictures to take like camera

our photographer left early
riding with someone, he had to go

so it falls to me to record if I can
as well as a camera could

amount of her breasts she bares
wine-colored dress she wears

shoes-slippers with heels
designed for a ball

are her hoop earrings too heavy
she's removed one

they're great big circles
the color of her shoes
with heels and straps

broad band on her left arm
is lovely as she is this evening
is made of brass

Oh my God, how good
no finger nail extensions
no nail polish, she looks lovely

arms bare,
bra straps escape her dress straps

what size hips, what size underwear

near me now, here with me now
in Cuba, in Colombia, away for a while

all I had were images on paper
her image, printed on paper

4 small pictures
I'd display upon my night stand
to cry over

how near she is to me at present
and how far

her boyfriend's here with us
my eyes go over her to covet her,
covet who is my own untrue love

iii.
oxygen, anesthetic
against the hurt, against the pain
against suffering

having to share her, tear her in half
tear me in half, tears in my heart

in my eyes, on my clothes
boy gone off with girl of mine

I say she is double
meaning divided

she say's she's not
insists that she isn't

what she can live with
I cannot

I brought up one way
she another

I suffer linked to her
in love with her

linked to this pen in my paw as well
pen in my claw

page I climb, I claw my way up
as if up a mountain side

one in an insane asylum
could climb-
might climb walls

iv.
cross-eyed concentrating
cross-eyed in concentration

upon loss, upon hurt
upon having to bear up
under the load of loss

girl of mine
gone off with her boyfriend

what is a best friend left to do
suppose to do

what am I left with
what have I to call my own

to say is mine
what have I but sniffles
but tears to hold back
or to let pour


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 8:05 p.m.
on Thursday July 29 and 12:05 a.m.
Friday, July 30, 2010

Late for 1 o’clock Mass
for A.W.

1.
Wildgoose girl, wild gooseberries
wild cherries

while others while away the time
wild time, make merry

2.
what you hug me for
I say like I’d say
what you hurt me for or hit me for

fling yourself against me
even in innocence
even innocently like you did

and I am altered
and likely for all times
as one is by assault

so what you hug me for
I say, I ask as if complaining
as if threatening to retaliate

I strike back, I react with a poem
as if to say, take that


© Obediah Michael smith, 2010
1:01 p.m. 29.07.10

Story Book Children
for H.L.T. & D.B.A.

thought ours was a relationship
to die for, to die in

not a relationship to be in,
not if I wish to die in peace

troubled child, troubles me
song to locate on YouTube, “Troubled Man”
whose is it, I am this moment unable to recall

when I am nicest to her, she is nastiest to me
treat her like a lady she is a breast to me
a brute beast, to use a term from
“You Can Lead A Horse to Water”
play Winston Saunders wrote

think of this play, I recall Heather in it
recall wanting to, wishing to
have a relationship with her

recall wanting to- imagining
I'd marry her
recall imagining we'd marry

kiss upon the cheek last evening
reminded me of one from long ago

I hadn't the confidence though
suppose I haven't the confidence now

I lack confidence on a variety of levels
as gifted as I am or as I am supposed to be
I have these insecurities

a good thing and a bad thing, I know
what I know is that I am uncomfortable
about affirming class

wanting a society without class
among whatever class, I do get nervous
feel outside, feel outsider

upper class, middle class, lower class
I just want to be

trappings about any social station
is a trap for me, frightened me

I am not fit, I am not qualified
I do not fit in such outfits: in wigs and robes
prefer to sleep naked, prefer to die bare

Lady Chatterley and her games keeper lover
frolicking naked in the rain
is my kind of moment, is my cup of
coffee, Milo, cocoa, tea

what a match I thought we'd make
Heather and me

that must have been
two-plus decades ago
heard she had been looking for me
asking for me

encountered her finally
after an event at Le Cabaret Theatre
and presented myself, here I am finally

the need she brushed aside, dismissed
to this day I still do not know
what it was she wanted

I was so flattered to hear of her needing
to get in touch, trying to find me
maybe we'd marry, maybe she loves me

silly me, silly thoughts
oh what a great big success I'd be
and that would be

marriage in and to such a class
it would have meant to have arrived certainly

went to her directly
through whoever was around her, about her

and we did greet divinely
hugged like birds with feathers, with wings

biggest, most delicious kiss upon the cheek
I had ever received, a kiss like a bird call

noisy, natural, sweet
why we never developed into anything
why a romance never commenced
was for me a mystery

I've always been afraid though
of the class she's in,
afraid of its professionals
intimidated by their being
more educated than me

I had a father who couldn't read
I had a mother who read barely

though I have amazing brothers and sisters
all as brilliant as my father was

I was the first to transition off to university
to shift into that culture or into that class

but chose with my degree, after I'd completed it
to remain humble, lowly
to cling to my mother's class or way of being

outsider looking on, looking in
in spite of this ability of mine
to write and to make poetry

do it right along side the best in the business
my success at it, success with it
suggests it has begun to give me wings

it has begun to work like magic
begun to have a magic of its own
begun to give me status

purchase it or marry to attain it
instead, it is my own,
should I rhyme here with homegrown

maybe homemade okra soup
and homemade bread

out of or rather eaten right in
my mother's kitchen

love she used to put in pots such as those
in things she'd extract hot from the oven
is what is responsible for life and my belief in it

my mother's love and love of that quality
or of that strength
added while she was here to love me
and added since

I know love when it falls like rain
when it is the sun in my face
when it is the moon upon the waves

I know when I am being treated shabbily
when instead of being loved
I am being humiliated

when I am being fed shit
with the suggestion that it is cheese

I’ve been in affairs, I have had friendships
in which life on earth was heaven
in which my life was truly transformed

what am I called to do for Dee
to demonstrate to her about love
about its magnanimity

how am I to treat her
when she inspires me - when she doesn't

I like when I upset you, she told me
early this morning on the phone

we touched each other,
touched some place we never had before

what am I to do or am I called to do
in spite of what I get back or do not get back

what am I to show her or to tell her
that love is

what will I leave her to remember
about what called itself love

what if it isn't, what if I have lied to her
and to myself

what has motivated what we have shared
up to this point

we are at a cross roads
what road will we take
which way will we turn

she turns me off and she turns me on
wonder if I want to fuck her still
am I just enjoying saying it

I've come to wonder if I like her
she can be abusive, abrasive


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
10:52 a.m. 29.07.10

Am I Being Warned
to Prepare to be Dump
for D.B.A.

if you mess with me you're gonna get hurt
is what it sounds like

so tough and I am soft
as if this were the case
soft ass or soft-hearted

how can she imagine
she can withstand what I cannot

all these years in the trenches
in the cesspit of love

alternating between heaven
and down there
where a heart cracks up
and you at times
crack up along with your heart

what she is pointing out possibly
is that I feel and she does not
I love and she does not

at least not deeply
not in a way that she cannot
at any minute snap out of it

recover from sickness
no need for Bay Geranium
or Cerasee

only she might have what I have
far worse than she imagines


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
2:29 a.m. 28.07.10

In the Food Store
for D.B.A.

poem in der food store, tiefin' minutes
dun get here late, dun out a time

insufficient fur what I come for
double robbery to squeeze a poem in

words to you, squeeze you in
squeeze into your life, you into mine

I let you, you let me
we like each other added
the fullness of it or this

when I make love to you
you're gonnna faint, I told you boldly
after dinner with Olive Senior

you fell back laughing
so deliciously I got an erection

yet you suggested it is or that is
not going to happen
we were making love then

it is with my pen, your pen
that we do it, that we make love

deny it all you like, you know we do
you know you love it as much as I do


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
9:59 p.m. 27.07.10

With Faith Able to See through Walls
for D.B.A.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.
Robert Frost, “Mending Walls”

I thought you were behind me, she said
and I thought,
like your ass or like your tail

or like where Christ ordered the devil to get
get thee behind me, he demanded

I thought you were behind me, she said
having walked away without a word
or gesture of farewell

big hug, big smiles, sweet words
for everyone all evening
while it was winding down

for me who loves her best,
who loves her most
who loves her well

or am I attempting to love
who I do not know
or attempting to love her
before I get to know her
or while she is getting to know herself

for me the shabbiest treatment
the shabbiest response
from me, the most disconnected

my, how is such shabby treatment
to be interpreted

she'd written me a poem
or a few pieces of poetry

that or those I suppose
were suppose to mean
that I am special

her untrusting responses
or her having turned or her having come
to trust me no longer or to trust me less

arrived at this with
I do not know what all assistance
or with the assistance of who all

but having embraced it
and embraced it so very tightly
no embrace left for me

just the walls of Jericho
or the wall of China to get over
to get between us, to keep love out
to put distance between her and me

distance we traverse easily enough
when she needs me
when I need her,
she adds the Wailing Wall
and the walls about Bethlehem also
or attempts to

only I am in this city too enclosed
being the lover of Christ that I am


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
9:16 a.m. 27.07.10

An After Dinner Mint
of D.B.A.

my fear is that
you're gonna melt
on everybody's tongue
in everybody's mouth

little sweet that you are


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
9:50 p.m. 26.07.10

Cuff Links
for Danielle

could write a poem about just that
about contact, that grip, that snatch

way we react to what is about to fall
or drop or to time you wish to keep
or someone to apprehend
getting away with something that's yours

I know that need, that act
need to hitch, that stitch in time
link to link someone to someone
to something, hands to cuff

some such implement, instrument
fingers though, a fist to make a grip

what I felt, had to respond to, turned
was arrest or its relative
hand laid upon me, hand upon an arm

who was it, what was it,
see what the matter was

all this about one split second
about what transpired in a second or two

can tell though when someone
has stepped out, stepped forth
separated herself from people generally

and become an individual
she is one and you are one

deeper meeting, encounter
than greetings generally

act that's affirmation, contact
this is like that woman and Christ

unlike the crowd, pressed
or pressing up against him
someone able to draw out
able to draw on what not just anyone can
drawn to, drawn from, drawn on


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
11:05 p.m. 25.07.10

Olive Senior Saturday
for D.B.A.

i.
earrings,
gift I've given her
hanging in-
swinging from her ears

I way over here
will I ever get near her

back to back, belly to belly
will we ever be like that

ii.
my only life I'm giving up
I'm giving away
am I throwing it away
throwing me away

how does she decide
what of me to hunger for
or to crave, what to resist
or to reject

what to push and what to pull
to pull in and to push out

on her feet to be
apart from me, to stand apart
heart beating there
my heart here, beating

her mood, my mood
this waste, distaste, this taste
in my mouth, my bowls

ache I ache, made more severe
by antipathy

need to hold herself apart
on her feet at the back of the room
while Olive Senior spreads the gospel

troubled because she is
why this is, this disconnection
this separation

recall Telford Georges telling me
what age woman
I can expect to couple with, to marry

if I recall correctly,
he went as low as 26

I asked, what of 20 or 18
“No! No! No!” he said, “it couldn't work!”

I am unable to recall, why he said this was

fallen into this relationship
my girl 18, going on 19
and what silliness to deal with

don't think I deserve mistrust
mistreatment she deals like cards
dislike when I lose
don't like what I get back

she likes what I give
accepts without accepting me

is she on her feet
at the back of the room
to inspire me
to weep this poem out
tears when I should be
tearing this page

rant and rave, rage inside
I should externalize

is she aiding creativity, fueling it
with bile she releases in my blood

is this my just reward
for these drops of life
like blood I squeeze out
like Seymour
into that plant's mouth

iii.
it is poetry ultimately
that I'm in love with, isn't it

she's caught up in it
like a fish in a net
or like an insect in a spider's web

God it troubles me
apart from her as we are now
she on her feet, I in this seat

on the phone until 3 a.m.
or until whatever time
or for however long

intimate then, phone to my ear
attentive, patient

reaction, insult to me
to pure intentions

she needs it seems
to keep me out, to push me out
to puke me up

it seems she knows not
what of me to spit out
what of me to swallow

ups and downs, upheaval
resulting in stomach ache, upset
in sea sickness

worst than or as bad as
once when those ships
crossed the middle passage

iv.
as if she had or were crucifying me
my palms burn, I blow upon the hurt

society we're in
does not permit the couple we are
nor does she, except on the phone

except when she has use for me
when she doesn't there is distance

wants nothing to do with me
pretends she has nothing to do with me

hurt so severe
hurts me when I'm left like this

abandoned, mis- or unjustly treated
art takes over, poetry emerges

v.
just want to give her so freely
whatever comes to my heart
or hand or head

that she responds to me
as she does, does not seem to me
to be the right response

just want to give her freely
any and everything

is she discouraging this
is she discouraging me

with her own response
with negative upon negative

ice cream heaped up
negative as well on top of that

what should I do, what should I be

what negative things she has to say
discouraging remarks

a heart could turn bitter, sour
resentful, resentment
of what once was such
a positive peach to bite


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written on Saturday, July 24
between 1:04 p.m. and 9:40 p.m.

Salivating Dog

as usual
when you get under my skin

go to pee I find
head of my cock
as if dipped in conch slop

this wonderful mess
you make me make


© Obediah Michael Smith,
4:19 p.m. 24.07.10

In Boiling Oil
for D.B.A.

Dee is back
what a face
what unhappy looks
how unhappy looking

how dangerous those toe nails are
to have them added, cemented on

to live like that and like we live
in conflict

to think like that and like we think
at war

to believe like that and like we believe
like opposing religions certainly
is like attempt to serve two masters

like going east or attempting to
as well as the way we're going

who should I blame
who should I fuck up
or spank up for this mishap

for what has befallen her
fuck

instead of natural
all this time abroad,
adorned a ridiculous wig

and with it, nails on fingers, on toes
extensions, colorfully painted

she, too stubborn in some things
in some ways
to be told to turn this way
that way or away
from thinking, feelings
entrenched, engrained

now this artificial nail
along with her own nail, lifted
fuck

and she needs a surgeon
too far away, not near enough

I helpless to do
what needs doing
or to pay what needs to be paid
to translate, to substitute
a frowning face for a smiling one

come home and we cannot be
happy to see each other
what a way, what a waste, what a day

on my own, I groan aloud in public
as if the knife
were under my skin also

what happens to her, happens to me
what has happened to her
has happened to me

I have a podiatrist friend
did not think of it then, I think of it now

could arrange for her to see him
how soon though
before she makes a shift
away from what is unwise
away from alien choices

what would inevitably
land her in such predicaments
in such hot fire
in stinging pain

I unable to help
but be pitched in
or to pitch in also

love connecting us
like Christ to us
like Christ and we together

who, if we who love him
if we whom he loves
were boiling in oil
he'd boil right along with us

I am boiling,
seething with anger
without knowing
who exactly to aim it at


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
2:46 p.m. 05.07.10

Welcoming Home
for D.B.A.

she has to pick herself up
what you must do when you’re travelling

she has to lift her own weight
and a few suitcases

she has to lift up, she has to lift off

to get home, she has to go
way up in the sky, high above clouds

so much more than I
faced with getting out of bed
and getting dressed to meet her

only I have so many more years to bear
so many more years to carry

traveling though is a lot to lift
to get up and go with, to go away
and to come home with

Lord, whatever the weight
or the wait, I pray, let it be light

how weightless light is
dark, unlike day, they think is heavy

day and night and life and love
what is the weight of these combined


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
7:08 a.m. 05.07.10

Pen or Knife or Penknife
for I.J.

praying hands can as easily
become killing hands
a murderer’s hands
murdering hands

a poet’s hand,
a hand with a pen
can become
a hand with a gun
or a knife

my ink can substitute
for your blood

on the road or on
the side of the road
on the wall or the floor

depending on
if I flipped
or snapped
this way
or that


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
7:00 p.m. 02.07.10

Baby’s Breath & Roses
for D.B.A.

in case the possibility of kissing arises

Jesus, how we kiss at present
how we at present kiss
and from however far away
and from however far apart
we get to connect
thanks especially to the internet

in person though
especially when we are
in my house, alone
she folds in, folds up
and why she does
she is unable to explain

bolder when we meet out
when others are about
she'd tease me then
she'd please me more
we'd frolic then

clean mouth for whatever arises
necessary to be/pays to be attractive

in relationship, upkeep is key
for her as well as for me

is she inspired too
to do the best
that she can do
to be the best
that she can be

Lord, I love how she inspires me
how, because of her, I've chosen life
to live and not to die

though death comes and knocks
I'm in love so I tell death, later
or get lost

I have my love
to look good
and to smell
sweet for


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
1:44 p.m. 02.07.10