No Good Title and a Full Moon

as it's remembered, as it comes to me:

I lay down in this spot, for no apparent reason. Just to take some time to think of myself. I have gone through this day with a blank mind. Whether it is a sadness that causes a defensive blank slate, or the inexplicable emptiness in my head that has caused this sadness. A rebound from my plethora of thought, a break from my normal scatter, it feels strange. I cannot think in this moment, simply stare and open my mouth. Words skip my head and seep straight from the soul. Giving the circumstances I should be happy, but I am not. I am not sad. I am for once neutral. I am in a simple crossroads where peace exists.

How selfish of me, all starting with I.
I look to the sky as the clouds whiz by
keeping my moon in view of my eye.
A full moon steady in a midst of black motion
Grounded in the sky, amongst my dreams
keeping thoughts forward, soul lifted.

The grass is damp, but i'm not upset
Cooling sensation for this hot head.
Still with the fever, my body tells me I'm ill
dying? no, but not standing still
this inexplicable scatter mumbles out of my mouth
rhymes almost by coincidence
sense need not be made during peace.

Simply allow the peace to continue as long as it will stand
don't think, don't move, don't focus on the world
focus on the object is drawing me in
the full moon inspires a connection
alone in this spot i can remain forever
however alone i am not with the moon in my mind
Together we are, at least I pretend

Pretend? Pretend! Where is the genuine?
It is not in my world, exists in another
stuck in my world, it exists in another.
Where is my world moving from here?
I am my world, alone but controlled.

Exist without power, exist without meaning
power over thyself, over thy destiny.
Thy? Who the FUCK says thy?
What about the, pronounced like we?
Now we are down to it.
It's all about she.

Peace and Love from the spot,

Scott Stephen Smith

"In between buildings, away from all but distant sirens. Where I sat. Where I mumbled."

A Note on Extremes: Central Park Poetry

Got a more poetic feel for ya...

"written on the same day,
just a few steps away..."

This is interesting. (a bold opening? sounds dangerous, mysterious, and soo sexy! I know, right! You just want me, its natural, I accept it.) I have said it before but now I mean it. I thrive amongst the extremes. This spot I have found hidden in the Northeastern Campus is much like the natural rock recliner I found in the central park on that beautiful afternoon.

In the middle of two huge cities I found an Oasis. From concrete jungle to a more peaceful spot in the world. Both were shielded by its surroundings. The sounds of the city were vanished, the love in my heart flourished. I can never have just one. I must push in one direction and then fly back the other way. Normalcy is the death of me. Volatility is my savior. It alone can bring me to a peace I can appreciate, and a chaos I can conquer. In a day of self revelation, the wind has picked up and I must leave it until tonight.

Peer into my mind, but never my soul.

Peace and Love,
Scott

*************
The original from way back:
Under a Tree in NYC


Who would have thought there could be such peace amongst the chaos? My brother mentioned that when it comes to women, this is a city of extremes. Meaning, the women in this town are of two varieties. Either they are absolutely gorgeous, or absolutely the opposite. He may have been wiser than what I gave him credit for. Although Sean is mostly right about the women, (god is he right) that same principle may be applied to this place on a broader sense.

I sit here in central park on a rock conveniently shaped as a reclining beach chair under a wonderful berry tree that will surely fuck up my clothes with stains, but that is my only worry. I am in a moment of the purest form of mental extacy. Amidst the hustle, the stress, the most grandiose city in the world is an oasis. Within this handsome redhead (you could even say gorgeous) that loves to live life in the fast lane is a peaceful place. A chill mode unmatched by pot heads and monks alike. Comparable yet completely opposite from a midwestern wilderness, central park offers that extreme. This is not a matter of good and bad, for I love and enjoy both. There is a time and a desire for both sides of the spectrum. They are apart of the city as much as they are apart of me.

As I sit in this spot I begin to love this place. Overlooking a pond, underneath a skyline, I am in love. This is not enfatuation but a deep appreciation for all that it gives up for me. It is the kind of love that wont change even if she does. It is the kind of love that has remained through change. This swooping trunk seems to cater to my personal space bubble as if she knew I needed it. She doesn;t get too close, but wraps its canopy around me as to give me the protection I need. (forgot the SPF 50!) It will even protect from the drizzling clouds. Wish you were here?

A plane above tries to shatter my dream of peace but I am already deep asleep. Passed the point of no return, I no longer rely on ignorance to supply my bliss. This is genuine. This is real.

What one would typically be missing is someone to share this with. However, I have both my other half and my hotel notepad to make up for that. As complete as its own person, my other extreme is shown a glimpse of the other side. I record my soul onto paper, but with no intention of merging the two. I like my steak done medium, but not my personality!


Inevitable. Sean is texting me to come meet him, but it is hard to leave this peace. I think I will pack it up and take it with me! After all, I am in a deep lucid dream here. Although I CLEARLY love myself, I also love him. I will return to this place when it is time to reach nirvana, enlightenment, and heaven. By then my recliner might have less of a left leaning slope.

Peace and Love,
Scott

Drops

A Poem Most Accurately Called Drops

Drops fall onto my fingertips, but the cloud is empty.
I've got a smile on my face, but my heart has been heavy.
It is generally unclear where I must go from here.

Murder, playing thanks to John Lee Hooker.
There are no words, because we don't need them.
The music tells the story, the title sets the stage.

The drops, it started with the drops of water.
And is it so that I forgot to call my father?
That can wait he will be here soon.

What a beautiful day, clear blue skies.
Wait, then what about the drops?
Why are they dropping and not stopping?

There is wind, maybe carrying from China?
Maybe Africa, I don't know the patterns.
Oh, must be China, the wind takes me to Africa not home.

I will soon be traveling to a place with no rain
a place with no fame, a place with no brain.
That's what they tell you, but it's a prejudiced view.

There will be no drops there, just dry fingers.
But what about here? Is it I have had too much beer?
No beer, just drops, coming from an empty sky.

Oh, tell me it isn't true, that with an empty sky I must cry?
It's not true, my eyes are dry, I still smile.
The drops are not tears, no salt just drops.

Have you ever tasted your tears? There is a good reason not to.
They taste bad, taste like the sea, not a bit like me.
Makes sense, seeing how we will all return there in time.

So here I sit, with mystery drops from a clear sky
dropping on my fingertips and not from my eye.
This beautiful day, next to a fountain, soul climbing a mountain.

Idiot! You are by the fountain, not the mountain.
Open your eyes and put your mind to rest
The drops splash from the fountain and not the bird's nest.


This poem was written outside the Christian Science Center in Boston, MA by Scott Stephen Smith

Warming Up Our Smiles

I’ll put on the shades and do my slow walk,

Sit down for a while and enjoy a conversation

Show you that your smile is not in isolation.

We can laugh together, and enjoy the new weather.

Move our souls off the dull couch made of leather

Let’s put on our shades and have a nice talk.

Seeing you again always brings back my grin.

The little smirk I offer up on a special occasion.

My happiness right now needs not your persuasion.

Make the world a better place with all that we do.

It happens every year, but the blooming flowers seem so new.

So let me hold your hand and join our skin.

The song builds in my mind, but I don’t know the ending

It is eternally envisioned as I move to my own beat.

Uncompromising, I will refuse to accept such a shallow defeat. 

Reaching the climax, I fear the final bridge approaches.

But there remains an underlying rhythm with more to offer.

I will be suspending the ending, keeping the status on pending.

The sun in my face has created a slight burn,

But a burn you enjoy, that you savor and lust for all winter.

Bring me back to the days I climbed trees and laughed at splinters

Remembering when I awed in wonder at explosions in the sky

Never contemplating the chance that I may one day die

I held a curiosity of what lied around each turn.

My mind is in a constant state of time travel

I look back, I look forward, I look up and to the side,

But I forget to look down, down at my feet

I realize with no shoes I have been walking on this street

So lace me up, I am ready to run, ready to feel the warmth of the sun

Upon my face, upon my smile, give me the idea that I may stay awhile.

I think I will stay awhile, and enjoy the moment for what it’s worth.

Tomorrow I will run, and continue the journey around the earth.

But, tonight I will stay, stay here with you.

So we can continue to smile, just us two.

Because you are the world, and I love to travel

Because you are the world I would love to unravel.

 

 

By Scott Stephen Smith

Finding Freedom, Want to Fly

I want to free. Myself from tyranny
I want to go, where my minds never known
I want to fly, up with the birds of the sky
And I want to smile, and just sit here for awhile

I have seen pain, I’ve walked right through the rain.
I have been down, been kicked all over this town.
I was with you, but you made me feel like a fool.
I live my life, but keep carrying that old rusted knife.

Until one day, my mother came around and say
You are my son, and you best be droppin that gun
You need look up, and poor some water in your cup
See the light, and you’ll make it through the long night

Clear as day, I suddenly found my way
I did right, by all the people I did fight
I made amends, and lord I did not pretend
Now I can smile, and sit back here for awhile.

I just did free, myself from tyranny.
I now can go, all the places my mind did not know
I always fly, among the birds way up high
And I do smile, ooo girl I can smile.


I want to go, all the places my mind don’t know
And I want to see, all the faces smiling at me.
If I can feel, a love that nothing but real
Then I will fly, up with the birds in the sky.

The way she looks, that was only the first hook
And her touch, did not prove to be too much
It’s when she’s there, and I can always tells she cares
I’ll call her mine, as long as our love can shine.

Peace and Love,

Scott