Modern poetry collection by contemporary Cleveland poet Steven B. Smith
Smith - contemporary poet

Empirical Dada's Greatest Hiss - version 2.0
Peter Ball - music, engineering, recording / Steven B. Smith - lyrics, vocals
19 march 2005

Empirical Dada - Greatest Hiss (version 2.0)

01 - Falling - 6:52
02 - Yeast - 4:27
03 - Low - 8:11
04 - Nipple F/X - 4:03
05 - Teddy Bear - 9:05
06 - Doing Time - 6:15
07 - Bewail - 8:26
08 - Grease Yr Grill - 8:31
09 - Washing Machine - 11:33
10 - Now Zen - 1:56

recorded jan 2004 - mar 2005 Apartment One studios
Peter Ball - music, recording
Steven B. Smith - lyrics, vocals

burn a copy - pass it on

Pete meet

Falling = 2 poems: I'm For Falling & They

I'm For Falling

Whining want weeps
Its winning way
From fool tool TV
Via too much tit
And botoxed brain
Showing shallow twits
In xeroxed pain
Damn little give
Whole lotta take
Turning from sun
To burning lake

I'm for falling
Falling down
Falling through air
Calling cloud
Free from err
Free from want
From wanting more
Free of lust
Of money whore
Free to trust
The ever more


Wing word round
In classic clown
Till dry discourse
Rues rule
Courts gesture
Of course
Lambs lame lions
And liars lie down
In one main line
Of fool

end    top    poetry    agent of chaos

Yeast = 1 poem: Sold American

Sold American

We're born in blood, raised in flesh
In this Ragnarok n roll Armageddon
So let's go let's go let's go go Sell American
For the red, white, black and blue

Schrodinger's cat is dead, perhaps
And we but lie, lie dreaming
This tit for tat means this this ain't that
No matter what the ragweeds weaving

My Little Bo Peep's down eating her sheep
With Darwin doubtless her handle
Your Little Boy Blue's sniffing glue
While cooking his spoon over candle

So drink a drink for all that hasn't happened
Bleed in need for the all that never will
3 cheers for the crippled, the misbegotten
All hail politicians fingers in the till

end    top    poetry    agent of chaos

Low = 1 poem: As The World Turns

As The World Turns

Slant the shade
Dim the blight
Dampen shame
Skim the light
Play the game
Place your blame
It's best to screw
Your partner right
No need to kiss
Or cuddle coo
Ain't making love
We gonna screw
Screw the good
Screw the weak
Screw the hood
Screw the meek
No good guy here
No humble geek
I do you ill
You touch my cheek
No turn of head
For second blow
I knee you now
I lay you low
I lay your life
I lay your wife
I lay your dog
I go hole hog
Don't mess with me
For don't you see
It's how I'm made
I don't work right
This step aside
For weaker scum
It ain't my stride
I'm different drum
I'm psycho cur
I'm whiskey fun
It don't occur
I'm making some
I do my do
I deal my deal
You slow my pace
Ain't no appeal
No human race
Can help you heal
For once I done
I be done deal
So no more nice
Call me ice
Pick to the heart
The darkest part

end    top    poetry    agent of chaos

Nipple F/X = 1 poem: Unknown Nipple

Unkown Nipple

Your nipple
Though we've yet to meet
Must surely seek to touch
My tongue's erectile tissue
Which seeks south to nether musk
Past inward looking navel
Which wise in eastern ways
When rocked in western rhythm
Knows what in maya may
Be only sleek illusion
Wonders reaped and sown
In peaks before the valley
Down treasure's traveled road
Where promise wraps forgiven
Its penis premised trap
Where truth in life is hidden
And minor deaths enact
Their furtive nightly burden
When joy it should be danced
And future fear forgiven
Like past purveyed by chance

Your eyes so solemn watching
Your lips promised pursuit
Your soul silent searching
Your heart no kindness fused
To form for wanting giving
To life its lift and shine
My love it spurts in wanting
Your flesh your spirit wine
Within your skin whenever
Blessings cross my brow
Profane in sacred wanting
Pure light enough for now
But o o unknown nipple
O mind of supple bliss
O soul unsullied, simple
On me bestow your kiss

end    top    poetry    agent of chaos

Teddy Bear = 1 poem: Standard Operating Procedure

Standard Operating Procedure

It hurts to be a teddy bear
To sit alone, unused
No longer wanted anywhere
Just left alone, confused

I'm tossed aside to lie in here
This dank and musty chest
The dampness serves to hide my tear
The dark to mock my past

Not always thus, this has been no
I was her fair haired toy
She loved me once, I pleased her so
I shone, her chosen joy

Yet here I lie in darkest net
Her love for me did end
My love for her she deemed forget
She found a stranger friend

And now the stranger she does mold
And twists him through the air
While in this chest my heart grows cold
Alone and frightened, bare

end    top    poetry    agent of chaos

Doing Time = 2 poems: Doing Time & Junkie Luv

Doing Time

A leaf alive
Another life
A lie let lie too long

Moon meat and Moses
Sucker song along
New lie highway
Old road alone

Need new lies
Old lie don't do
New supposes
For falling through

New excuses
And pretty parts
To hide abusive
Hollow hearts

Toys for boys
Swirls for girls
Swine to enjoy
Hurled pearls

For Babylon baby
Ain't another time
There ain't no maybe
It's this life's the crime

And I'm doing time

Junkie Luv

My eyes slither open, shut
In golum time my tongue
Rasps brown lizards
As I hiss my want of you
In careful solitude
O my preciousss

Sleep whispers soft leavings
On my lids my head nods
Nods my precious
These fingers numb in spite
The clash of needle
And the floor

end    top    poetry    agent of chaos

Bewail = 1 poem: Lamentation 5 - The Faithful Bewail

Lamentation 5 - The Faithful Bewail

As Eye and I went walking
And Eye and I were talking
Eye on I was watching
So shake your booty Buddha boy
Won't you spare a paradigm?

For me wanna marijuana
And me wanna do the dog
Bow the wow to shady lady
Leap and lap her fire log
Oh let me be your poodle boy

All aboard the Cardboard Express
Fresh in fresh sin and absolution
You can keep your Hallelujahs
Let me have my Loch Ness Jesus
Nam myoho renge kyo

Oh yes
It's all tits and toothpaste
A test tease totality
In textbook time

But I am not bothered by grace
Why watch the dead rework the living
Embalm our worst in overtime
Famous faces in golden places
Never look to me
To see Zen flesh-less-ness to be

Serpent servant sorrows sire
Brags big broths in briny bowls
But aftermath of meat belief
Is math to meat retreat

So Eye and I still walking
Though Eye and I not talking
But Eye on I am watching
So do your duty Buddha buddy
Cue this cat to paradigm

end    top    poetry    agent of chaos

Grease Yr Grill = 1 poem: Grease Your Grill

Grease Your Grill

I'm an oven cleaner baby
Come to scrub your grill
Yes this oven cleaning man
Mean to steam your grill
Get the heat back baby
Flame 'n fire the thrill

I'll rub your rust off lady
Get your grid to shine
Rid this mood of maybe baby
Lady let me lick your lime
Make much meat that might be
Moistened by munching lightly
Juicy, prime

Gonna grease your grill
Put the heat back baby
Then send you the bill

end    top    poetry    agent of chaos

Washing Machine = 5 poems: Three Faces of Eve, USA Today,
Past Lies and Poverty, The Grasshopper's Tale & Fertile Lies

Three Faces of Eve

Moroi, Moroi
We meet where
The cuckoo does not sing
The dog does not bark
The sacred yew my flesh
The warming gone

Though hidden behind
Paths in the park
I in my city
Am amphetamine hot
And see
Clean Grecian face
In crumpled wrap
Of excrement
On flesh

None descending the stair
Dare call patrons
Matrons of questionable ease
Strip tease
Sand not withstanding
For each beach is the same
Same lame game
Where neither retribution
Nor love of institution
Dare descend dissembled daze
In this garbage of Eden

Bring back the snake

USA Today

Meat bags bound by fog and fury
Fear silence
Little horrors of swarming selves
God's flesh
But fallen water across the log

In service so sweaty warmth
Begotten in flesh and feast
Double cause
Crowing cock cracking dawn

Let doubt die
Mangled thread, legal mixture
Here be dragons
Slave state seared by vision
Degrees of silence

Past Lies and Poverty

Old wonders shrink, grow tame in time
The new fear hangs on
In quiet desperation, quit of desire
Like the shadow of a crowded
Culture in which each
Declare their innocence
In straight unfocused silence

It is there
The smell of unwashed
Dishes smug in the stench of our
Unclean shame
Like a salesman's underbreath
Fishy, stale
The deep teal, the tiled resonance

Of hungers on top of hungers

The Grasshopper's Tale

My life's dog food for do gooders
Hot dodgers dogging God's zone
Fur sure of itself
Per path and position
Point portion pursued

We who rise in heat from dream
Lick recollection loose
From cold fire's template
Futility's fog
We bleed in abandon
Dance dawn's dapple light

Fertile Lies

Small particles of truth lace love's lies

Peeping one-eyed cat's seafood stores
Mount used two love carnivore rides
Cast past sated loss

Self to self slip service schemes for the day
Emasculation Mama stiff with semen
Screams dreams porta piss shit machines
Message me to mine

Bile regenerative truth du jour:
loving spoonful's
pearl jam
to my hole

end    top    poetry    agent of chaos

Now Zen = 1 poem: Now Zen

Now Zen

It aint age.
It ain't sex.
It ain't race, religion, height,
gender, color, class or learning.

It's path, progress and position.
The road not not taken.
Be here now.
Hear now
  o eyes unseeing
  o ears unearned.

We're all perfect potential
  cept maybe republicans, lawyers,
  the true organized crime called police
  the true whores called priests.

You can walk on water IF water wants.
Just ask.
Walk willing.
There ain't no dark night's ungentle light.
Ain't nothing outside but lies.
But even lie true ain't for you.
Walk within.
Don't need no god.
No catholic pimp pushing blood feast.
My lie's mine.
Walk my own walk.
Fuck the talk.

Grasshoppers gone wrong become ants.
Bad ants cry uncle, cry wolf, cry baby.
Goats goad sacrifice to sun.
Ritual requires repetition, release.
Nothing stays river's run
  but drought's dry dirt
  (and river still runs).

Rub your ears together.
Start a fire.
Flesh alarm.
Let gone go.
Lock lip.


end    top    poetry    agent of chaos

W. Logan Fry (Director of The Digital Museum of Modern Art) is including 3 songs
by Peter Ball and me in an internet exhibition - and wondered how I met Peter.

Logan's putting on the web: Yeast, Nipple F/X, & Teddy Bear.
They can be heard online at D.M.O.M.A. Smith exhibition

Pete Meet

I met Peter in the Warfarin mines beneath the warehouse district in 1982.

I was serving time for bad taste. Peter was the entertainment director.
He needed a monkey to front a tin whistle band, and I applied - to no avail.

Peter's been urging me to record for 20 years. In January 2004, in my 2nd year of no employment benefits, I gave it a try - to my great dismay. Took 6 months for me to loosen up enough to start making a serious fool of myself, which is when the fun began.

I write the words. Take them to Peter, whose place is floor to ceiling keyboards, theremins, synthesizers, microphones - all run thru his computer for recording. He starts playing music, not knowing what I'm going to say, and I start saying, not knowing what he's going to play. When done, he burns me a cd of the day's jam.

For one time thru unrehearsed impromptu jams, we do okay.

Side benefits - my public poetry reading style has improved from boring to enthusiastic, and I've written 10 times more poems than before to feed the music machine.

Peter Ball's

lyrics to empirical dada greatest hiss version 3.0


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