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David Smith
Goodreads Author
Website
Genre
Influences
Member Since
November 2011
URL
https://www.goodreads.com/DaveSmith
WRITERS' BUSINESS
WRITERS' BUSINESS
How many fine books have I edited in the last year? A few damn good ones. What is life like without books? Probably much like the life of the slug. One hopes one does not run into a salt shaker.
What the hell am I going on about? What defines not even a great book? A good book: A fun read, pages that provoke... a fun read which picks up the reader sometimes smacking them down on t Read more of this blog post »
How many fine books have I edited in the last year? A few damn good ones. What is life like without books? Probably much like the life of the slug. One hopes one does not run into a salt shaker.
What the hell am I going on about? What defines not even a great book? A good book: A fun read, pages that provoke... a fun read which picks up the reader sometimes smacking them down on t Read more of this blog post »
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Torture in the Garden of Eden
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published
2011
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3 editions
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They Ate Peaches
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published
2011
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4 editions
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As I Wander Through The Book of Life
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published
2012
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2 editions
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Cocktails with Burty: A Prose-Etry Anthology
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published
2011
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Outskirts of Insanity
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published
2012
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2 editions
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Saskatchewan
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published
2011
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2 editions
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Mad Cop's Diary
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published
2013
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2 editions
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“Some say babies are born with sin, others will say "what the fuck are you talking about".. babies are born as a clear canvas.. awaiting the strokes of a masterful artist.. some abstract, some contemporary.. some graffiti”
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“What of the times before when no one cared, when we could walk in the parks of our souls, not a fret or a good lay? You see, it is imperative that one absolve themselves from desire, that one lives in tepid consternation. ‘Tepid consternation’ I hear you scream. How can you have consternation when no one cares? Well, truth is, you can. It is that mind masturbation which I have always plagued you with. You know? The fear of not overcoming? Sure you do. Dillinger does. He walks in the parks of his souls where my Lucy and I sit and wait.”
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“as chaste men think
so the world goes asunder
for evil disguised in chaste sweet guilt
is the evil that kills the children
and starves the soul of love-Elwood Jake”
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so the world goes asunder
for evil disguised in chaste sweet guilt
is the evil that kills the children
and starves the soul of love-Elwood Jake”
―
“Some say babies are born with sin, others will say "what the fuck are you talking about".. babies are born as a clear canvas.. awaiting the strokes of a masterful artist.. some abstract, some contemporary.. some graffiti”
―
―
“What of the times before when no one cared, when we could walk in the parks of our souls, not a fret or a good lay? You see, it is imperative that one absolve themselves from desire, that one lives in tepid consternation. ‘Tepid consternation’ I hear you scream. How can you have consternation when no one cares? Well, truth is, you can. It is that mind masturbation which I have always plagued you with. You know? The fear of not overcoming? Sure you do. Dillinger does. He walks in the parks of his souls where my Lucy and I sit and wait.”
―
―
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NEW AVI-YOURS TRULY AS SIR JOHN FALSTAFF-THOUGHT IT TIME TO LET THE LOBSTER BOIL IN HIS OWN JUICE
I feel the heat. They pass me by, a slight shiver, a glance behind, their skin crawls. Look at them, they do not understand.Withered, the man was drawn up into himself, a mere gesture of human kind. If thirst would make me partake of this slight repast then surely there must be something that can save me for I am lost at the sight of the thing that lay beneath, but I must drink.
As passion’s early light dawned on the dark soul of my father so it had on mine. Age, not relevant, spiraled through my life, eternity cried the envious dolt. To this I laugh for eternity is my plague.
I bent to the thing, my tongue reaching, touching, starting at shriveled stinking mass. Eyes it has eyes, opened, sudden knowing frolic for peace those eyes did drink, for death this putrid wreck did pray, take me Lord, drink my blood for this I might live once more.
My lips so white did touch his skin, such morbid pus did wet my thirst that Hell had made this wretched beast to give me breath, Father’s curse, his blood, black cold yet sweet. Quicken my heart you filthy stream, mold guts upon my face, adorn this visage of wasted grace that envy is my only dream. Yet I must drink.
He lives in me this withered mass of haggard misery. As Haggis eaten on New Years Eve green guts bequeath eternal thirst.
Elwood Jake-I Feel the Heat
Mutter's Ridge
what's in a name
simple place
filled with grace
a walk on Mutter's Ridge?
Sparrow Hawk fly high
India birds thrusting through
to where no hero wants to be
yet stand to side?
not today-
today we stand on Mutter's Ridge
a simple place filled with grace?
"We" are one on Mutter's Ridge
where no hero wants to be
Where God forgot his men
who stood on Mutter's Ridge
as others stand
where no hero wants to be