Winter Flower

Protean water condensates in the Winter Forest,
Cumulatively
Weighing on air
Until it breaks.

Falling to the earth,
To seed the flowers
That do find their roots.

While mumblings
of Good and Evil,
Love and hate,
Unfelt,
Linger in the thoughts of Troglodytes.

The gasp sounds
Of a Sunflower in the Winter Forest.

Letting go,
Becoming yellow in a glow,
Open to the music of quiet.

The Flower gulps a last breath and withers alone in the wind.

And the Troglodytes…

Meandering accessories’
Fabian spirits
Of unfit or the due.


-Ben

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Photography by eberhard grossgasteiger

Pulse

A message from nowhere,
Here it sits.
In contemplation
Of unknowable perspective

Whirling around, around, around
A pool of conscience
Testing
Testing
Watching
Till the movement gives
And the lights go out.

In, out of time.
On, off, on again.
The space in-between creates the universal pulse
To which one dances.

‘Til

Bars closer than you know.
In the throat
Or as slats of oblong oscillating bone,

Tautly strung as a web of ideas,
Holding floods in their film.
Damming them
As a fire to be set free.


-Ben

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Logos

Reduced to daily use.
Logos of seeming
Meaning, don’t let us lose them.

Assuage the cycles.
Amalgamate cultures’
Creation, as long as we use it.

Singular Stupid Perusing Fantasies
Vacuous lows-
-Creatively knows.
Underneath the detail
Reveals a vaster apparition.

Drifting Miles.
Miles; Lines of Encyclopaedic scripture
Adding to the ends of markings
As ancestry falls

From the edge of earthiness
Into the void of esoterism.

All that ever was
Emulating all that is.
Lines of symbols,

Reduced to daily use
As logos of seeming
Meaning.
Don’t let us lose it.

City of Wind

My heels dig into the ground.
You stand over me like a taunting mist.
I walk, you stroll,
I stop, you groan.

I tell you that I’ll never stop ’till my last breathe…
You take it out of me.
Yet I still stand,
Smiling into this white light

Now is live or die
And it won’t last forever.

So I dig my heels into the ground,
One step at a time
I carry onward.


-Ben

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Photography by Essow Kedelina

Gloom

Cold winds found in the evening,
In the gloom.

Frowns, Curled up faces
Scattered in lay-by’s,

Glittered in malice
and fantasy.

Cold layers of days depleting
Diminished hope.

Given away for
Distractions.

So it is
Under the shadow of seasons change

Heat moves away
And cold kills kindness,

Yet love is so much warmer.

Under the long hours,
Painful trains and travelling

A smile’s bright sight brings a joyful delight.

A fiery hearts head-start
Under winter ash before the sunrise

Over the valley
Of icy silence.

 

The Truth

Act,
React,
Where’s the fine line of truth in-between
The walls of the seed of decision
That separates the large from the lean
The buildings from the trees,
Where creativity was born.

No man is an island…

Looking for womb
In natural alcohols
Pollutants in disguise as progress or necessity,
In truth
Let it rest, let it be
Nothing can hide for long.

What is truth?

Truth is what you need,
Not what you want,
The line is fine;
Mostly hypnotised .

A moment happens to all,
Not eventually,
Eternity.
Even if it be in the time of our passing,

Although never found,
Always realised.


-Ben

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Much Love. x

Photography by Jaymantri