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Poems of Adam Smith

Going Nowhere

Can you feel the pain a sorrow

That is living in this land

As the ship starts to sink

We realize it was unmanned

 

Can you hear the disappointment

In the voice is of the young

As the old look down up on us

Down the barrels of their guns

 

We’re going

We’re going nowhere

Don’t take it as a surprise

We’re going

We’re going nowhere

And I can’t believe my eyes

­­­

Can you sense the desperation

That’s riding in the air

As you check your phone for updates

And act like you don’t care

 

Can you smell the dreams dying

Not just here but everywhere

What was once full of hope

Is now riddled with despair

Flowers and the Trees

I’ve been wanting to say a few things

That have recently been on my mind

I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it

But something is not quite right

 

The flowers have been dying in the summer

Drowned in torrential rain

You can turn your back if you wanna

But things will never be the same again

 

It been I while since I left the city

Running from the one we call the man

The devil her tried to trick me

And he did that’s why I’m damned

 

The trees there starting to die know

It might have something to do with you and me

You can stand around here if you wanna

But I’ve gotta set myself free

I Exist as I Am, That Is Enough


I speak words softly
And they come
With a continues flow
They make no sense to me
They make no sense
To the ones that choose to listen
But through the riddles and the nonsense
Comes the wisdom of my age
And all but myself are satisfied
I write my words quickly
Before my brain can comprehend the meaning
On the pages of a notebook
They flow like water
From the mouth of the river
Sometimes dirty carrying debris
Sometimes shocking to the ones
That choose to read them
But through the darkness of my lines
Comes my understanding of the cosmos
And all are satisfied but myself
Grandfather Whitman
With his beard white as snow
Said I exist as I am, that is enough
And with him this time I concur
For I exist as myself and nothing more
I am myself with my speech
I am myself with my writing
With my poetry and prose
I am as true too myself
As the redness of the reddest rose
Bright, visible and pure
And the only one not satisfied is myself
I exist as I am
And I follow no one
That came before me
And no one follows after me
My mouth is full of gibberish
My writing is full of prophecy
And self loathing
I satisfy the need of others
As I die to self


I exist as I am
In the darkness and the light
With my feet on the ground
And my mind in flight in the cosmos
They call for my wisdom and understanding
And I find them all
Weighed in the balance and found wanting
And no one is satisfied
Not even myself


I find myself existing in the void
Breathing breaths of life
And not knowing a thing about living
I find myself living in a dream
But not accepting the possibilities of dreaming
I find my words stunted
I find my hand paralyzed and unable to write
Not knowing a thing about life
Except for disappointment and pain
And that one and the other feel the same
I exist as I am in a pocket of time
Over looked by most
As I blend into the background
Or become another face in the crowed
Speaking words that fall
Into the emptiness of the void
Or fall upon deaf ears
Yet outlining the wisdom
And the understanding of my age
And no one is satisfied not even myself

I exist as I find myself
Calm in the eye of the storm
In the mist of the chaos
I grasp onto the things of peace
I float as the chaff on the breeze
Free and light on the wind
In the middle of the destruction
My words find there form
My speech is restored
And my soul searches
For a place of rest
And I exist as I am that is enough



 

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