What are we audience to?

But the detritus of the past moment

The Will, disillusioned milliseconds out of reach

And the present, a seamless corridor of previous sense

We are seated in a Colosseum

With the combat of thought dying the sands

And the crow of the crowd echoing the walls

When observed, this world dilutes into a silent black box

Each thread dissolves into a pool of intangible happenings

Each colour and shape, loses its resolution and becomes impotent

What remains is a serene disconnection to what we think is ourselves

And a lose, feathered touch with everything that isn't

So what are we audience to?

In this furious reality that God has left the lights on

And locked the doors to your house

• Liam Ken Smith
  18/08/2024

We form vivacious in the secrets that cannot be solved

And we are shortly steel faced in those we can

The rabbit's vanishing lends our spines forwards

But it's return is why we satisfy back into our seats

For it's not the how or where, the method or the atoms

Not the hat nor the card, the science nor the art

The staccato of love is awarded only to the question of magic

And a passionless legato arrives for the truth

• Liam Ken Smith

27/07/2024 - 09/11/2024

Everything you've ever known or thought

Every complex animal, every simple bacteria

Every interweaving flora, every patient fungi

Is so much less than an atom

And so much less than a moment

In an explosion that you will never see move
  

Each star is but a molecule

And each galaxy a single spark

Forming a rolling flame that carries all that is and can be

We are made of all this, and will be unmade into it again

Just an element, fusing and separating in an infinitesimal gap between states

You are within the divine, and the divine is within you.

• Liam Ken Smith

07/12/2024

To make a people evil, first make them righteous.

Righteousness is a river, evil is a lake

Vox Populi is gravity, attention is water

The media is erosion, the truth is land

All channels are drawn to the lakes body

As gravity enacts its demand.

• Liam Ken Smith

30/07/2024 - 08/12/2024

We stand on the shoulders of the billions who came before

The agony, fear, tyranny, passion and severed soul of labour

Ancestral pain, pleasure and progress for whom they'll never know

 
Our feet are heavy upon the corpses of the many

Our roots dig into their graves and drink from their wells

We use their bones as if they are our own

So when you fall to your knees in despair,

Your flesh warmed by a soft weave in an insulated room with magical lighting.

Remember you are on the graves of billions who's hands and minds made your flourishing possible.

You are in the best time, because others were not.

• Liam Ken Smith

04/08/2024 - 09/11/2024

The height of human endeavour

The passing of time and claws

Your knuckles borne of will and youth

Brought seasons of doubt to the oldest of you

A quiet purr from the wind

The colour on a lobelia as you ponder

The swindling of a cool breeze on your cheek

The nature peaking between the sonder

Often unnoticed are the things that matter

Often enveloping are the things that don't

Yet too, do those things have a place

For between ritual and chaos

Sits the entombed soul of our species

• Liam Ken Smith

22/01/2024 - 27/07/2024

Lives catch fire under the burning crusade

Waves of screams whirl in a roiling parade

Winds of vehemency sway a broad star

And the faithful kill, clutching a crossed bar

The houses burn an ardent chaos of red

The dirt leeches the steel of brave men led

With legs of iron wilted a pious partisan falls

As his family pray not for his return in their halls

Smoke, broil and fire.

Lest the lives go to waste.

This we can't replace.

Smoke, broil and fire.

Lest the walls collapse at all.

The sovereign are sure to fall.

• Liam Ken Smith

22/07/2016 - 27/12/2024

There once was an owl named Fred,
He was really fluffy and pure bred.
One day when he was hopping along the path,
He saw a huge stick, a tree had fell and this was the aftermath.

"Wow, Lenny! Look at this stick!"
"Oh my God Fred! For our nest, that would be a great pick!"

So Fred and Lenny picked up the stick,
Fred's mouth on the right end,
And Lenny's on the left bend.

When they got home they laid the stick to rest,
Upon the top of their new tree, they made a nest.

From a fallen tree at its end,
to two birds with flock to tend,
building a home to raise their folk tall,
Life moves on, forever and ever more :)

• Liam Ken Smith - a 5 minute challenge.

05/11/2023