Ant Smith

All poems

Life on earth

Body Clock
It tick away
Body Rot
And fade to grey
Body Not
Good enough
Body Got
To turn to dust
Bodies come and bodies go.

Mind Flip
And sometimes stick
Mind Think
Well, that is it
Mind Hope
For after-life
Mind Trip
Sure is nice

As the Earth turns
and leaf turns
and Moon turns in the sky

Hey, Mr Artist - Paint me a picture
Of life on Earth, This wonderful sister
Giving Wondrous birth, to creatures crawling
In the dirt.
Paint with strokes, both fine and bold,
The night in steel, and the day in gold,
Paint the young, and paint the old
Paint the stories as they unfold,
Paint the love, and paint the hate,
Paint our glories, and our mistakes,
Paint the joy, and paint the hurt

The living live in ignorance,
of that, that lives within.
The more they move, the more they smooth
A pattern on the floor.
The lines they leave, are lines that weave,
An image that they draw.

Paint our atoms, as they condense,
On a moment that almost begins to make sense
Before we’re born, to build a defence,
against the chaos of unravelling strings.
Paint the pattern, of our lives,
Paint the web, and paint the skies,
Paint the universal eyes
That hardly see us in a blink of time.
Join the dots with indian ink
Everything ends
As it begins

So flesh turns
And life turns
And my turn comes to die.

Body Clock
It tick away
Body Rot
And fade to grey
Body Not
Good enough
Body Got
To turn to dust
Bodies come and bodies go
There ain’t no truth -
don’t you know?