Too Long
Locked Out
I Want In
for D.B.A.

I cry, my eyes to dry
not allowed to love you or to have you

with nothing else- or as significant
to live for

walled out of a life, out of her holy city, why
why is excluded my reward

why like when I was in Paris
unable to afford cakes, pastries
that made my eyes bulge, my mouth water
and looking was my substitute

my palms, my face,
pressed up against the window
of a pâtisserie

making myself sick for want of her
hardly able to function
because of love of her
and she goes on with life

unable to live with her
without her, unable to get on
with my own life - not inspired to

picture of her, taken very recently
I see what I'm missing
what I'm being deprived of
excluded from

and I return to weeping over her
like I used to do once


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2012
2:24 a.m. 31.07.12

Bush Tea
for D.B.A.

stop treating me like an enemy
while suggesting we are friends

or while I befriend you- defend you-
support you and you, without mercy, undermine me

entirely foolish of you- unwarranted
for you to imagine that I am going to- was wishing to-
am willing to relieve you of sex without permission
that is at best your own wishful thinking

I have too many women lovelier by far and sexier by far
to have sex with willingly for hours

like the woman I went with- was with yesterday
why I did not- could not go to bed all night, all day

yet how irresistible you imagine you are
imagine I'd commit a crime against you to have you

what kind of sex would that be, with you resisting-
without you involved

choose that sort of sexual intercourse
with all the willing women in the world

especially because not married
alternative methods are still my preference

do not confuse poetry with life
I am far less willing to jump into bed with you
or with any woman than my poetry suggests

wouldn't want to get too near someone
with such an unhealthy attitude towards the body
towards sex

from such freaks I keep my distance
not wanting to be twisted like- to be twisted by
who is in need of therapy to find the kind of relief-
the brand of relief acting, theatre, the arts provide me

certainly do not want to go back there
go back where hangups abound

don't want to go with someone hanging onto slavery still
bound up in chains still, mentally or actually
when freedom is the lady I am going with

pulled down, pulled back by your back-in-the bushes mentality
yet you imagine that the sickness you gat is one I want to catch

you are a catch I want to be rid of
if you come along with what is warped, twisted

I am not trying to get next to you,
trying instead to get away from mentalities like yours
from anyone in this world who thinks like you

do not come around me wishing
and suggesting that what you are wishing
is what I want: you are at best fantasizing

would I throw away all that I have gained
heights attained on a pork-filled body like yours
on a pork-filled someone like you

as precious as I think I am you have got to be kidding

relax- ease up- pursue your fantasies otherwise
elsewhere: what I fill my poetry with
is not at all what or who I have an appetite for

mine is a life of fasting, abstinence and prayer
what you fear is what you want to happen to you
is what you attract to you

trying to take you to the mountain top
you keep dragging me down
imagining our attachment was something-
was a favor- was a flavor I wished

but you are not the dish- not the banquet-
not the tea I ordered, not the tea I'm waiting for

I await it still, hot and spilling over


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2012
2:22 am. 19.07.12