Pub Licker

Before you read this. I have have nothing to do with these kinds of people. And I know there are great publishers out there who I have lots of respect for. So this is not in general whatsoever. And despite what I write here I do plan on being published someday.Oh and if you went or are going to college for writing that is awsome. This is not general on that it's to those who think they are mightier than anyone else because they went to college for creative writing or something. So here it is, Oh and there is an offensive bad word in this write so you are warned!....


Correct me if I’m write
Be the expert in this gray matter
Little do you realize these errors were meant to exist
Persistence upon enigmatic royalty
Flaws having purpose
Deeming fraudulence to your own made up tragedy

Edit your own inner belligerence
For you it’s just words after all
Just leave mine alone
Personal in these methods
In these expressions I bleed profoundly

I just don’t try getting by with just words
Putting so much substance, Sometimes subliminal messages into them
My poetic education is my own personal life venture, Sometimes my imaginative adventure
I will never go to college for something that inspires me to dream, to feel
Never changing for nothing
Keeping it all real
Teaching myself with my own heart, mind and soul

Proof read this all you want
Deny it of it’s substance
Tell me that I am not your kind
The kind the box embraces you within
It’s confines so limited in essence

Don’t call yourself an artist
If you must emerge yourself in a crowd
Ganging up with a mob like mentality
Building those up who worship your words
To tear those down
On the bottom of the pecking order
That is if they are not as obedient as the rest

I have always ignored your so called guidance
It was never the will of my own way
You are never satisfied with what I write
Because it was never as “good” for you and your friends
Who all write the same anyways

Rejection, Does not exist to me
I am my own publisher within
I will not pay you thousands of dollars
When I know you hate what I write
Though if you had my money you would call it brilliant

Anyhow, My back is turned to you
I blocked you of these thoughts
This is my final dedication to you
As you now cease to exist
In this free mind you could never influence

This took no effort to write
Maybe if I was your friend or
You had a crush on me
I could very well qualify
For your circle jerk club of false intent

Damn you are pathetic
Its just sad that not many see that
But be that as it may
I am happily writing for myself and others
And that is priceless to me
Don’t envy a mind that is free



Written By,
James Darwin Smith II
6/23/11

Low Society

What have we become?
A world full of “righteousness”?
On the wrong spectrum of pride
Delving into depths of nothingness
Acting as if there is/was substance there

What have we become?
A species lost in emotions?
A world full of tabloid dreams?
Making good on others misfortune
Acting out their best dramatic scenes of oblivion

Oh, How so many love to see people rise
So they can knock them down, Oh, so far down
Straight down into society’s sewage
Throwing fecal words at them
Laughing like pompous rulers
Ruling the world with a urinated fist
Punching innocence in it’s once undefeated eyes

Oppression is manmade
Cutting hearts open, with a smile
As their ego wielding knife impales common sense
Deriving to the next generation in line
To march to the beat of the pauper’s drum
While awaiting for those to rise and then succumb
To the pity pattern cries
Of tragedy’s seduction
Where the victims lay ignored
Wallowing, Descending down
Into their very own personal
Six feet hole of chemical defeat

So now they, Society mourns
And the news can break in with
The story of the “weak”
Gloom sells , The media rejoices
In the sacrificial celebration
Of their sweeping week

Christmas comes whenever
They conjure it up with their own hypocrisy
But they are fed with the special gift of ratings
So they inspire for more

Damage is so very popular
When it never effects them

What have we become?
High tech cavemen with no direction
Or we would have destroyed this disease from spreading

Oh, How the truth hurts
But who wants honesty?
When it never sells
Not them. Why would they?
You can never discipline a spoiled rotten child

Society, How can you be so vile?



Written By,
James Darwin Smith II
6/23/11

A Humbling Journey into Realism

I never missed the target
The target missed me
Feeling buoyant in these multi soaring dreams
Killing morose with my own destiny
Marking this territory at a priceless cost
Never being sold, Never being caught

Observer of pride's wicked lessons
Taught by irreverence’s mistakes
Casting pennies for these thoughts
Mind to mind, Sacrificial pride
Common sense dies, Long live metaphoric chaos
Built for those who ponder amusement
In the art of simplicity

And he who laughs last
Is the Joker’s assassin
Embellishing the drama
Calling a spade a spade
On the pairing of diamond’s rage
Never forever, Only for mere seconds
Imploring self proclamation of the star’s lunacy
On the lunar landing of terrorized sentiments
Proclaiming a judgment’s bluff with such roving arrogance
Dining out with denial’s fortitude

And the King of deception’s fraudulent eyes
Aces the mutated Queen’s honest intentions
Foiling the Jacks of all earnest trades
Empowering the greed of an elite conglomeration
Massaging the hands of tragic dwellings
As the Narcissist’s representation
Defiles the innocence of all humbled achievements

Creation becomes apparent
To the heir of a besmirching tyranny
Challenging the eyes twisted intent
The weakness of the unfortunate flower’s naive bloom

So did the artist write the masterpiece?
Or did the masterpiece write the artist?
Riding off into the sunset’s oblivion
Accessible to the solar flare’s intent of a gullible unity


But I was never harmed
Amused by the shrapnel that came through

Just a witness
To the starving artist’s murder
A writers block away
Sprayed by the bullets that ricocheted
The cries of a once proud moment
As reality scampers in
Fluent in karma’s brooding

Don’t look at me
I for one refused to ever participate
In that fake substance covered in doom

I am a realist honored by those who honor truth
Blessed by universe’s prospering sentiments
To the art that we all love, In the innovation
The directions that we ourselves choose

Peacefully soaking in this amazing beauty
That has made me a better person
Amongst this world of independent thinking
Where everyone wins
Where no one will ever lose

I am happy to say
I am in love with Poetic’s salvation
And that love remains strong
That love remains true

I am just me
The one who loves the realism that is you



Written By,
James Darwin Smith II
6/19/11