Let It Whip
for Korsica Liyaka Shepherd [R.I.P.]

she had a short career

out on the edge

in the flames, in the fire

consumed by the game she played

instead of paying off, she lost,

we lost

I fell in love with her-

with who was dead already

affair a week or two old

discovered today-

was shocked to hear-

that she has been dead

since last August

raped and murdered

or murdered and raped

found wrapped

in a Scooby-Doo blanket, naked

is our affair over and done with

what was developing between us

done for or in what state

with what potential

are there those

who still love Marilyn Munroe

who fall in love with her

all these years after her life ended

what sort of relationship

is possible between her and me

through the evocative videos

she left on YouTube

and will they any day be taken off

be taken down

22 when she died

when she was murdered, last year

career in what she chose to do

make videos of herself dancing

commenced, it seems,

about 3 years before

when she was 17 or 18

or did it start earlier

daring things she'd do

fun-loving, freedom-loving woman

gifted, rhythmic, athletic dancer

was gone before I knew it

gone but still here / but here still

in my heart now

heart full of blood and milk

to shake and make a poem

I dreamt of her and me connecting

dreamt of meeting her

dancer and poet

dreamt of collaboration

inspiration made possible

inspired that other pen of mine initially

last two weeks

I've watched her nearly everyday

lonely when I didn't

she was the company I'd keep

these last two weeks

her to hold onto- to attach to

against being- against the need

to feel lonely

how shocked I was today

an hour or so ago

to discover that she is dead

was murdered

flower crusher between rough palms

or flung to the ground

and squashed like a roach

her petals mutilated

her perfume released

upon the atmosphere

she belonged to thousands

who loved and watched

from she was little more

than a talented, skinny teenager

an early video of her, made in 2008

I saw and thought

of Romanian gymnasts,

thought of Nadia Comăneci

thought of their legendary coach,

Béla Károlyi

thought she could have, in his hands

been one of them

been just as great

what a pity that she fell into

another set- another kind of hands

hands that raped- that strangled

who was a gift

who was as talented as could be

wrote recently in another poem

or in a note somewhere

about stars in the sky

shining bright, against the dark

against the night

stars that have actually gone out

long ago, that were dead-

that have died long ago

available to be seen in the sky still

because the light travels from so far-

has taken so very long to get to us

to come into view- come along

from so many light years away

she was dead from last August

here it is, May, nine months later

two weeks ago, fell head over heels

in love with her

discovered just today

that she was- when I encountered her,

lone gone, long dead

I want her to last

like Marilyn Munroe has lasted

she is certainly as magical, as beautiful

dead and gone or not, I love her

she touched my heart

she touched my soul

took my breath with her dance steps

with her high kick

with what she could do

with a vertical bar to climb

to spin upon, to turn upside down on

with a wooden floor to cross

or to get down on her knees upon

she used to turn me on

this I must confess

what am I to do

now that she is gone

now that I know she is

am I to enjoy her still

or am I to join her mom

her family, her friends in mourning

what a sad day it is indeed

to hear of this deed

to hear of her demise

to hear that Korsica Liyaka Shepherd

is lifeless

when I thought she was quick, alive,

was well and thinking up- thinking of

new videos to add

I was actually awaiting sufficient funds

to be able to sign up

Web site she invited

who viewed her on YouTube

to follow  her to

"to see Mz Sexier

"being super sexy!"

I want to still

want to swallow all I can of her

like pills against the aches

and pains of life

of which she has been

relieved too soon

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2012
4:37 p.m. 07.05.12             

Forest Trees

[a poem Virginia inspired]

you cannot from outside
tell me what to emphasize

I live here
you are only passing by
going by- driving by

your perspective and mine
are not one and the same

I decide if and when to weed my yard
when to mow my lawn
when to cut down trees

not easy financially
the fight with the forest advancing
reclaiming

not easy to without end, reverse it
not easy at all to turn it back

such an abundance of things
springing up, growing as swiftly
as I can cut them down
or have them cut down

growth as wild as the hair on my head
as the hair on my chin
requiring me often to visit the barber

I can use a gardener, full time
to discipline what is unruly,
growing wild, embarrassing me

people, thinking my property
unoccupied, come into my yard,
among the trees, to pee

at times some come
to move their bowels

when I am too long away
when they are able
to have their way


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2012
11:20 a.m. 06.05.12

Day of Destiny

is destiny coming towards me
I heading towards it
inevitable that we meet

or is it fleeing
and I'm chasing after it
desperate to catch up

tired from
and tired of chasing it
or is it seeking me
as I am seeking it

or might it have passed me by
gone on long ago

oh God if it is approaching
if it does approach

let it be oncoming
still


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2012
4:06 p.m. 06.05.12

Loving Hands

i.
Four who are left,
sisters of mine,
attired in black, in mourning,
at my sister, Marjorie's funeral.

Oh, how good it was
to see them: to be with
these four of six woman
who have, with such loving hands,
shaped my life, who have so inspired me.

Mom and Marjorie, R.I.P.

ii.
woman give you piece,
as sweet or sweeter than a hit

decide to deprive you of it
just when you have become an addict

like someone exposed to-
experimenting with freebasing cocaine

deprive you of what she knows
you'd suffer unbearably
to have to do without-
to have to live without

happy to leave you helpless
happy to bring you to your knees

iii.
roach to spank to death
with a foot of my slippers


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2012
Written between 7:55 p.m. and
11:14 p.m. on Saturday, May 5, 2012

End Came Today 
[Marjorie Irene McCartney,
22 February 1943 
to 24 April 2012]

I suppose it is good to get it over with
to be over and done with dying

to get on with whatever follows
onto wherever follows

I just knew that death
was going to be picking on-
picking in siblings, as it is we
who are now in our sixties and seventies

only recently you see,
the very last and the youngest
of my father and his siblings expired

was buried while I was away
I was unable to attend her funeral

it was on December 14,
4 months, 10 days ago, when she died

and tonight the news arrived
my sister Marjorie passed away

death in its black dress or black suit
selecting one or another to dance with
to do the dance of death, to dance a two step

a foot in the grave, a foot out
death, while dancing with us,
trips us up; we fall in, unable to climb out

fortunately, spirit rises, hovers over all
witnesses what is assigned to the grave

necessary to live good, to have lived well
in preparation for when our end comes

Marjorie's end came today
suffering is over, trials, tribulations behind her

children and grandchildren to live on in
her legacy to carry on
in them the best work she has done

in siblings too, whom she helped raise
for whom she was a sterling example
reflect her work as well

I know the guide she was for me
the guidance she provided

to help me to walk good
to make good choices
to choose the straight, the narrow

what a pity that she has, today
fallen down,
fallen off the ledge that life was

the risk it is that we all face
perils to escape until we cannot
and we fall in, fall through

true to our maker even then
true to our neighbor

whom all her life she has loved
as she has loved herself


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2012
9:25 p.m. 24.04.12

Pino Suárez
for M.L.R.

wondered and wondered
about where I was that day

does she wonder about me now
about my whereabouts

if I'm safe or not or well or not

that day at Pino Suárez
what worry, what concern

is she at all
concerned about me now

if I were thrown to the wolves
it seems, she could not care less

she is careless about me now

about where I'm left
about if I'm left or lost
or could not be found

were I to be left
like lost luggage
like lost baggage

like a lost bag
in lost and found
could I hope to be claimed
to be picked up

no hope at all
of her ever again
showing up on my behalf


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2012
6:13 p.m. 27.03.12

Tepozotlan
for M.L.R.

on her ass,
sitting on the grass

legs crossed,
sucking in, sucking on,
sucking down her cigarette

until all that was left,
butt to throw away

an addict,
after she was done
feeding, satisfying
fierce craving

could again join
her daughter and me

pretend to be-
suggest that she was

ever so human
ever so normal

until she was again
sick for nicotine
sick for cigarette smoke

sick for a cigarette
sick for a cancer stick


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2012
4:38 p.m. 27.03.12

One Day
Another Night
for M.L.R.

we would pass now
like strangers, she and I

just members of the crowds
boarding or disembarking the trains

entering or leaving one metro station
or another or the other

we have faded again into the crowds

into being strangers again
after our episodes in bed

we were strangers then too

I, like a paying customer
she like a professional

providing a service, expertly
expertly providing a service

I thought it was by love inspired
but I do not know now
what it was inspired by

bye bye to crying eyes
bye bye, black bird

black cock, erect neck
cococarooco

dividing the day and the night
dividing day from night

we were never not strangers
never ever friends

though I thought we were gift,
bestowed without delay
or without much delay,
by heaven

heaven,
it seems, has taken its gift back
our contact

not connected in bed,
in intimacy, not connected
holding hands as we used to,

going about Mexico City,
kissing the way lovers kiss


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2012
7:29 p.m. 20.01.12

Another Round of Hearts
for T.L.A.

would you mind
if I fell in love with you again

I was once
that I can confess

was until I was pushed away
until our conflict

until it was clear
that it was not appreciated

my heart, beating,
offered to you whole
like a water melon

heart,
meal you had no appetite for
insulted it, insulted me

my precious offer, unappreciated

no, it was not- it was never friendship
I was after, I was cultivating

damn the difference of our ages
it was love I was after –
love I was into

want to be into you like that again
after a time of separation
after our time apart

after an affair I was into
that is very likely over now

I am ready to return home
to Limón, to Costa Rica

to the prettiest girl upon the planet
prettiest girl
on God's green earth

an affair she was having- was into
to guard it, you had to- you chose to
shove me away, shoo me away
like flies - a nuisance, annoying you

what will it be this time around
welcome or farewell or go away
don't bother me

want another round of hearts
thrown back and forth to catch

laughing, chasing about, running
having fun

but we must not let them drop
must not let your heart or my heart
hit the ground, the pavement

must not let them- get them-
let them get bruised up
covered with dirt and sand

must hold them safe in two hands

what ups and downs, already,
we've survived -
our affair has a history

devoted to you once
want to be devoted, similarly,
once again

what will I, this time,
be subjected to
what will I subject you to

close enough again,
to watch each other grow
what will we undergo

need to redefine what motivates
what we share

do not want friendship
want to be captain-
want to run the ship
sail the ship

cabin upon it for you and me
to frolic

alcoholics in the ballroom
well dressed, drunk
and dancing waltz

walls for our laughter
to ring off

verbs to reverberate
to ring out

parts of speech
to take apart

you to disassemble
and to reassemble


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2012
7:16 a.m. 20.01.12

Crushed Ice
for M.L.R.

i.
could we have
walking together back
joined like that

our steps, our hands
your right, my left

ink left to muddy pages with
paper to talk to, to talk with

we used to converse as best we could
as best we could was good enough
was all the world

we used to be boy and girl
were planning to be man and wife
maybe all too fast

two hearts, together beating,
have come apart

how it was that we were joined as we were
while we were, was like a fairy tale

how it commenced and that it did
and that it sustained, a mystery

a gift from somewhere lofty
from up above, from on high

why has heaven revoked us
taken back what was granted

what did I- did you or did we do
to forfeit such a treat

what harsh word or words
to cause us to come crashing back
into this harsh world

what patience lacking
to cause us to be pulled apart

when we were like ice skating partners
connected, helping, lifting
as we twirled, turned

our partnership is what I miss

that I could allow you
or that you could allow me
to come crashing down to ice

is so without mercy, without care
is so very cold
after having been so enormously warm

hot hot hot worried me a little
I was concerned about burning out
all too readily, all too soon

it was walking hand-in-hand
kisses in public that was best
that thrilled me most

not under-done or over-done
under-cooked or over-cooked

that tenderness was best
it is the tenderness I miss
and want back, that bliss
that connection, that connected

that though is but one side of you
one side of me as well, I imagine

there is as well
the woman of self-defense
woman trained in martial arts

the adversarial side
needing an opponent
made me one

needed me it seemed
in opposition
instead of on her side

I thought God was on our side
thought he had ordained
that we be joined

ii.
how could it have been just a fling
a thing to use
and then to fling away
at the end of the day

iii.
we might have allowed
too many people into-
to enter what was ours
what was too new for all the world

their trampling feet,
their peeping eyes, their curiosity

our affair, too soon mixed
with the affairs of this world

delicate as it was
like a litter of kittens
lacking fur, eyes not open

needing to be licked,
needing to be shrouded,
veiled from the eyes of all the world

we should not have announced
to all the world, what our plans were

what it was that we had discovered:
gold and frankincense and myrrh

we should not have told Herod
where the young child was

wrapped in swaddling cloth
lying in a manger


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2012
Written between 1:15 p.m.
on Thursday, January 19
and 2:55 a.m. on Friday,
January 20, 2012

Little Boy Blew
for Sergio, Mariana & M.L.R.

all the air, all of a sudden
released again into the atmosphere

little boy's blue balloon
he was hitting up and keeping up
determined not to let touch the ground

does end upon the ground
is blown away, ahead of him
with him following swiftly

into the neighbor's yard
neighbors I am staying with
with whom I've stayed overnight

little boy's blue balloon
blows against a small flowering plant
and goes, pop

what was in it
suddenly mixes with what was without

what was a toy, a play-thing,
is a play-thing no more

a piece of rubber,
boy with his sister, in the road
babbling away in Spanish,
has no more use for

no use for what he cannot again
blow up, fill with air

in the early morning, on the beach
a day ago, I was asked,
at the point of her wanting penetration

wanting me to enter her, had I rubbers
"latex" is the word she used
I hadn't

we'd gone as far as we could go
as far as we dared go and turned back

climbed down from the great height
that we had gotten to

we'd have had no-longer-useful rubber
we'd have afterwards, most likely,
disposed of rubber in the sand
on the beach, full of little tadpoles

a generation of my offspring
Trojan warriors, dying, perishing
their tails whipping, lashing

we never got to that

what was left
of the little boy's blue balloon
he did not pick up

with his sister,
with her amber-colored balloon
fortunately still in tact,

they ran away, shrouded in
the noise they made


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2011
7:44 a.m. 04.11.11

Blue Is My World
for M.L.R.

I do not feel lovely
how can she love me

what does she sense
what does she see

I'd put off love making
I'd push her away
until I can assemble
all the pieces in place
some semblance of enticing

she knows not
with what devils I wrestle
I must pin down

heads of dragons I must cut off
to get into bed with her

to be intimate- to copulate
like we at times have
like we sometimes do

not automatic to feel attractive
with my body, its systems,
acting up, its systems backfiring

digestion, circulation,
defecation, excretion
all of these questionable

I must yet try to master them
put what misbehaves to sleep
or try to - she hasn't a clue
what I must do- must undergo

everything I eat
almost immediately after
or not long after, I have to do do
these in the way of romance

I had been jogging on the spot
morning and evening
to get on top- to stay on top of things

now my right foot has given out
delicate bones in this foot,
I seem to have fractured,
one or several

it hurts to walk, I hop instead

some film with some injured soldier
comes to mind

"Ryan's Daughter" it is for certain
British officer on the hill top
hopping, moving swiftly

Ryan's daughter, in white night gown
having left her husband's bed
hurries to this officer
she has fallen in love with

it is infirmity, this image
of him hopping, part of the romance
part of his heroism

he had been wounded, injured
while fighting- while at war
and because of it was decorated

my injury occurring
running on the spot, indoors
trying to stay well, attempting
to boost my immune system
and this calamity

my love and I, at present
not getting along-

affair on the rocks
over a bottle of Noche Buena beer
she wanted a second bottle of

I put my foot down
I delivered a sermon
on the need to deny ourselves

give the extra you'd spend
on luxuries like beer to the poor

with their hands out
whom you usually pass by
or shoo away

living in her house
sleeping in her bed
and I have suddenly become
persona non grata

will this state that we're in lift
or will I have
to vacate these premises
for dignity's sake

guest in a house
here in Mexico City
and I feel humiliated, unappreciated

what input am I allowed

modern day woman
with little use
for the leadership of a man

want to have their own way
go their own way

your money to spin, to spend
your cock to gyrate on
but they have their own ideas

no more than contempt
for the ideas of men

last night I was made to feel
like that beautiful
emasculated man
in "Blue," with Juliette Binoche


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2012
9:38 p.m. 19.12.11

Along Came Song
for M.L.R.

steps that were designed
by the divine or by the devil

tracks that were laid
by hands from hell
or hands from heaven

which am I making- which am I on

what existed between us initially
who orchestrated it
who connected us

was it of God or of the devil
what I thought was bliss

asked this one and that one
to pray for us, to pray for it

what was I asking God to bless
to add whip cream of heaven to

asking angels in heaven
to lift up- to lift us- to approve

light of heaven,
invited to shine in on it
and could it withstand this added
this exposure, such revelation

evil doings
or what was not in keeping
with what heaven, the Gospels
and Christ intended

woman seeking after pleasure
assume she could
make her own rules
could have her private pursuits

anything she liked-
anyway she liked it
whenever she wanted

what The Book says, no matter
what the guide says
of no importance, of no consequence

but The Book does matter
as much today as it ever did

book of life is the book for life
forever

do not understand
her not appreciating all I contributed

seems she still does not appreciate
what my time costs

I could have been elsewhere
in service otherwise and to others

it seems she never understood
whose I was, to whom I belonged
or to whom I belong

she seemed to think me flimsy
morally, materially, otherwise

some playmate, some play thing
some paperweight

does she know how powerful
is the family- are the friends I have

does she know
that I must be their shining star

this hour and every hour
unable to resort
to just any lowness
to what is lowdown
to just any mess

after all the discipline,
the suffering, the sacrifices,
she expects me
to lie down in sin and get up
and go on and not care

pleasures that are not blessed
eat food over which grace
has not been said

I have been abandoned, repudiated
for having principles
for taking the high road
rather than the low road

wanted- and I want still
what was pure between us
want her to know that
you cannot have whatever
do whatever without having
to suffer- without having
to face the consequences

what you do in secret
shall certainly end up in the open
end up in the light

what is covered by night,
sure to end exposed by-
exposed in daylight

just another man she met and went with
all that I am supposed to be
what she attempts to reduce me to

after all the commitments we had made
after the depths to which we went

after the depths of what I thought
we had invested

what I wanted us to mean
thought we mutually meant

was I meaning one thing
meaning one way and she
was meaning her own thing
some other way, entirely

attached,
would we have forever been
pulling in opposite directions

she pulling from my pocket
pulling the guts inside me out

what is or was within me
inside me coiled,
extending more and more

like a fish on a line
big fish on her line to bring in
or to relinquish

attached and in pain
she is attached to me too
it costs me, it must cost her also

for both of us, the pleasure
and the pain - for both of us
the consequences
for the incorrect sequence
of what was shared

take a toy apart- a car apart
anything apart- there is
this to put back and then that

however painstaking
is the order we must observe

must be followed if we want
what we are assembling
or reassembling to work, to run

we could not- we cannot
put ourselves together
any-kind-a-how, any-kind-a-way
and expect to function

to be right together
right for each other
or to make right, to make better
a little bit of wrong in this world

I do not- did not want
to be added to- or to be more of
what is messed up

it is precisely why I write
to put- to make something
run as it should

like a river rather that like blood
off a sidewalk, onto the side
of the road when someone
is stabbed or shot

am I to go- are we to go
the way of the world

should we not be
on our way to heaven
on the wings of doves


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2012
11:25 a.m. 18.01.12