When Different Makes an Everlasting Impression

Who am I?
Why am I here?

Looking for another world
A world full of peace of mind
Thought provoking, Analyzing this body’s acceptance
As this soul plans it’s very own escape

Who are they?
What do they do?

I could never adapt
To the “Normal” life
Always riding a train to these thoughts
On a track that goes a different route
Trying to escape to paradise
Yet, Keeps going in circles
In this place I call paradox

Counted as an absentee to absence
To the statistics of normalcy
Was always good at disappearing
Invisibility a gift that keeps brooding

Thoughts go fast, Way fast
Actions only work when alone
Slow in a crowding achievement
Just a spectator watching others
Rejoice in their public affections

Who am I?
Why am I here?

This body changes
This soul still stays the same
Two fighting it out
For the right to pilot this vessel
Yet, neither of them ever seem to win

And then there are those
Who think what is easy for them
Should be easy for me
Sorry I don’t seem to be your type
Society, You always told me that
Could not accept it at one time
But now I love being incompatible with you

I am an alien
From a planet of thoughts so far away
Stuck on this rock ever tumbling
But I try to adapt. I try to adapt

This imagination travels
To the exploration of these dreams
Warring myself of this disease called negativity
Looking up to the sky
Pondering which constellation
Is truly my home abode

I will never know
Just have to adapt
And realize there are people
Who share that same sky with me

Stepping back, Relaxing
Philosophizing where the stars shall take me

Presently Serene
In this compatibility
Bittersweet in these enchanting elements
Where magic comes alive
Infinity times beyond

I am just me
Paving a legacy in this quest for knowledge
Never ceasing to learn in this adventure
Always accepting this body
So this soul can someday be justifiably freed

Don’t ever chastise me
For ever expressing myself differently
I see the flaws and embrace them with all of my devotion
This environment creates its own atmosphere
Thick in the air of my own creativity
Creativity in the air I so proudly breathe


Written By,
James Darwin Smith II
7/1/11

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

Paradox

I have learned to cloak myself from the living
From the eyes of lost and found dreams
But at the same time
My eyes became blind of any hope
And this affliction became cured with disease

What if wrong was really right?
What if right was really wrong?
What if these feelings within had light?
Would the dark still shine right in?
Or would the light be the one that was dim?

Your guess is as good as mine
Or is your guess is a unfamiliar simile
Running rampant around chaos
Wondering what has become of nothing
Of an everyday occurrence
With lots of uneventful happenings

Don’t take this the wrong way
I am left with being right
Or right with being left?
To the north, south, East, West
Of a west eastern, North Southern
The depolarization of balanced direction

I’m just doing fine
But if I wasn’t
Would that be a crime?
A punishment of neglect
A void left looming over silence
And heads turning away?

With a perfectly imperfect unity
My universe becomes set in motion
Emotions thick as ever
Yet hidden in this black hole
Of dying stars secret constellation
Discovered by undiscovered exploration

But again
Thank you
I still am doing fine
Welcome to my heart
It has no price
Dive on through
Explore, Implore, Explore
Open and shut
Shut and open
Each of it’s astral doors
Hybrid of pure design

Body on earth
Mind in space
Spirit hunting flesh
Flesh hunting spirit
And this heart beats gracefully of stress

Destination paradox
Where nothing makes nonsense
While making sense of it all

A place where wonderland lays loathing in pity
Oblivious to any sort of motioned motionless sublime

I was impaled inside the looking glass
Thus I never looked back
I came from the looking glass
Now wonderland is painted black

My life was always a paradox
And the world is too normal to grasp



Written By,
James Darwin Smith II
5/27/11

Formaldehyde, An Embalming Love Story

You say “You cannot understand”
I say I cannot understand
Why you give power
To the one you supposedly love
The one that makes you depressed
Only giving you minutes of happiness
In the rarest occasions

You say “I love him”
I say you are blind
You have been down that road
Far Too many times

What is love to you anyways?
Is it a cruel act of despair?
Feeding the greedy
Your passionate heart
While throwing your soul away
In the garbage of hapless memories

Oh, How beautiful you use to be
And I mean that in every inner to outer way
When your smile lit up any darkness
And warmed any coldness within

But as each guy ruins your life
Your emotions become dimmed
With the gray matters of shrapnel thinking
As you become
The piece of their mental slavery games
And when they are done with you
They no longer have you in their thoughts
Yet, You seem to always think about them
As you become the monster of their own creation

Oh, But a nice guy
He will occasionally come by
Someone you can feed your misery to
Using the very games you learned to play
Making them bitter cold in the end
Feeling hopelessly lost
Tossed and buried
Dead and gone

Oh, This disease is a terrible one
Makes love go mad. Rubber room mad
To an evolution of psychosis
Building a schizophrenic community
In the regions of hearts freezing over

Welcome to the dark ages of love
I am here to help it shine again
Through the battle scars within these dreams

I shall help this heart mend
I shall help other hearts mend

Love it still exists
It exists indeed
Seen it with my very own eyes
But the majority of it
Seems to be an endangered species
Being savagely hunted down by society

Come on world
Express yourself to love
Get rid of the negativity
That kills you within

Just love and love again

There is more to love than just romance



Written By,
James Darwin Smith II
5/16/11

Unsolved History, The Origins of Confusion

Call me out on something, Anything
Tell me when you think I am wrong
Have an opinion
On the nature of everything, Anything
Imploring to the facts within your own reasons

Don’t use my words for fuel
Or let them fester inside
Stop the madness
The negativity
The overbearing calculations
Which is swallowed by a deeply downed corrosion
Of a well oiled high toned adrenaline machine
On the steel horse of a self righteous oblige

I know that you know
That I know, That you know
That I hate conflicts
As it stabs my heart
Burns it to oblivion
As it all gets put into a piñata
Full of razor blade anxiety
Being nailed over and over again

But I tell you what
It feels much better
Than being left out in the cold
Under sub zero temperatures of emptiness
As this lonely heart
Becomes the core of a quiet neglection
Rejecting pile of silent sewer plant treatments
Bowery farms conflicted of mooring woes

Hey, I am not a monster
Nor a docile Ghost
Just a human being humanly human
Yet, Sometimes I really wonder
If I am even from here

I cannot stand it when even I myself complain
But these feelings must come out somehow
Exercising these metaphoric demons
Of the green vomit
That spins this head to a splitting headache
Peeved of this possessed reality
That tries to create a creature of my own suped up enduring

Mutated to the core of my own reasons
Flawed to great imperfections
Using words gallantly in incoherent competence
As I set a standard
In the enigma that flows with impurity
In Pandora’s loving embrace

Look into these light sensitive eyes
As shy and hidden as they can be
Peer inside these dreams
And know the very origins
That compels me to a euphoric fantasy

I don’t want sympathy
Just want the respect I deservingly need
I might not be of this very world
But this world is not of me
As the world wants to be indifferent
We are the ones who hold
The many shapes of our own universal needs

My world, Your world
Is not necessarily Earth
But the personal planet of our dreams

Invade me with your alienation
Probe this mind of it’s resources
Abduct this very essence
The constellations of my own solar systematic freedom
That screams for sincere loyalty

So is that how you want it?
I am confused, I am confusion, I will not lose
Yet, I will submit when shown realism
Something I can grab, feel, Touch, Taste and breathe

Yet, Is this all just one big messed up dream?

So now I ask
What do you want from me?
There always seems to be some sort of catch

Why is society full of salespeople
Selling self centered agendas right from under their greedy sleeves?

Why are they so successful?

When you think I will go left
I shall go right
When you think I will go right
I shall go left
Holding the middle ground
Of what you think of me

It just so happens
That middle ground was a mirage
And I am of no direction
That has first, second or a third party
Behind it’s own traveling hypocrisy

And all I wanted to do was to get a reaction
Too bad it all had to come down to this




Written By,
James Darwin Smith II
5/11/11