Cecil Smead
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Monday, April 21, 2014. Within every crevice, every crack,. Through every tight pocket hole,. Your thick, rich smoke encapsulates me. My ears gasp for one more syllable to complete my thoughts. And so I breathe you in. You fill my lungs and awaken my mind. Your cunning eyes and your devilish grin;. Each synapse alive with your touch. I flush and I fever wanting more, always more;. You enter in to me.
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Thursday, August 1, 2013. The red birds singing. On the warm electric wires. Above the morning market. Old women lining up guitars. And ancient paintings of. Quiet Navahos with razor gift sets and heavy grey blankets. The pre-dawn fever and clicking off. Bugs buzz to life. While flowers wilt and sink. The rolling hulks of Americana. Crunching the sharp gravel. Like miniature death roses. Cause the redbirds to take flight. Taken from my 2008 book CONFESSIONS OF A CONCRETE CUTOUT. Written by Cecil Smead.CONTENT
This web page cecilsmeadpoetry.blogspot.com states the following, "Thursday, August 1, 2013." We saw that the webpage said " On the warm electric wires." It also said " Old women lining up guitars. Quiet Navahos with razor gift sets and heavy grey blankets. The pre-dawn fever and clicking off. While flowers wilt and sink. The rolling hulks of Americana. Cause the redbirds to take flight. Taken from my 2008 book CONFESSIONS OF A CONCRETE CUTOUT."SEEK SIMILAR DOMAINS
Monday, April 21, 2014. What do you wish it to be? Sorry about the dark . Let me show you around the place we call home. To your left is our memory room. Off to your right is the playroom. My roommates love to play their games there. Why are you shaking? .
Thursday, March 21, 2013. March for a reason,. A sign of the times. Chose to believe in,. What to invest in,. A bleak view in sight. To no longer live blind. Wednesday, December 12, 2012. At night, wishful harvest,. At night, wishful harvest,. At night vision sharpens,. All the same there is only darkness.
Thursday, April 4, 2013. With each passing day, the floor moves further away. Use a chain or tie a knot. Do not let it fade away. Memories is the fuel to create. A song, a poem, a smile, a tear, remember the time, use the fear. Fact or fiction, real or a vision. Scream to world, we need your prediction. The director is you, the movie is you, roll the camera, always be true.
Thursday, April 4, 2013. Life is like a book of 400 pages. So why the sad face as if locked in a cage? Written by Clarence Allen.