The Grey

The pulling up on my neck,

an accidental asphyxiation,

became the tangled constriction

of my column of life.

 

Stable turned upside down

Uprooted

An Animal

Lost in place

 

I don’t know where I am anymore.

I lean back.

 

Same sounds, same noises;

muted;

Tinted in an air of emptiness,

and a hollow blur

of grey shades

that coat the sights of memories

 

A flicker of blue fire leaves the source

making it’s mark through impressions

on the supple

and layers on the stiff

 

A far reach turns into a little too much,

the lack of breath

turns to a lack of movement

‘till the earthy self

is now just concrete.

The fire’s flickered out.

Her

Overwhelming joy

Like a fire flood rising and falling in my belly

The feeling of being stretched into the epitome of up and smiles

She makes me laugh like I don’t know myself anymore,

Beautiful blue eyes,

Talking in hums and squeezes

Sleepy faces and tight cuddles

She keeps me warm

Talking through the night about the problems of the universe

Singing and dancing to old songs from groovy times

Never cheesy, always cheesy, and we love it

A duo in performance

Double trouble

The dream team

 

In the shadows

We embrace them

Savour them

Talk of their necessity

In Low tones

And bland fact

Overtoned by squeaky voices

About mawnins and evenins

And aftanoonees

 

We wrestle and tickle

Because that’s the proper thing to do

And become the birds and the dogs

With their dances and calls

Then I kiss her forehead softly and warmly

And I tell her that she is the best thing that has ever happened to me

Because she just is.

And I love her so.

When We’re Tired

When we’re tired we just keep writing

When we’re tired the words don’t spill anymore

I look into my head and find something resembling foggy nothings

I find empty corridors and full closets

Tiredness is a word for ‘I don’t know’

Or the decisions I’ve made in the past week

Or the things I wish I could have written

I feel weak

My hope is that one day I will be rid of tiredness

Put an end to the problem of energy

One day inspiration will knock me upward

And I will have the perfect routine

And my body won’t fail me

And I’ll be living the dream, one day

…Tonight I’m tired though.

Tonight is the night where I stay up late and watch youtube videos,

because it will make me feel better.

Tonight I will cook broccoli at 1 in the morning,

because I’m hungry and I can’t eat breakfast.

And then I’ll eat sugar treats

because they taste nice

and I’m living life

WHY THE HELL DID HE DO THIS

I woke up at 12.

But

Wait

What

No

Am I failing my body?

I won’t fail my body.

won’t fail my body.

One day I will conquer my problems

I will start on a new day.

When I get to bed on time,

and I’m in the coffee shop at 7.

Tiredness is a problem for the week.

Try again on a tomorrow okay?

Keep writing

Keep wr

Keep

Ke

K

-Ben

For those that are lost…

Write. Speak. Jump up and down.

It’s mad how long we can travel down the same path of fogginess. We are just floating through nowhere, from nowhere, and we goddamn hate it!

I challenge you to write. Just do it.

Writing changes everything. When you write it is as when you speak to others that you trust. You let go of the tensions that you are holding inside of yourself, you are letting it splurge out onto the paper. The act of letting yourself make the connection of your mind to the paper or the screen or whatever you use, it is going to shift your energy outside of yourself. If you successfully make this connection, this transition of energy, then this trapped energy will be unleashed onto the page, and you will find in your connection and your internal response to this energy the answers to your questions.

One must look at this energy, these words, with the advising eye of a best friend. Treat this energy truthfully, for it is you. Observe yourself! Watch your thoughts, your posture, your responses. First and foremost, feel your reaction to this watching. Do not let yourself be caught up in what one should or should not think, but allow yourself to see as if there were no right and wrong, only what is and is not. Let your response to this connection teach you of yourself. Let your response to your watching and listening teach you of your truth.

Now if you have not already found your way via these teachings, then seek inspiration. Seek those who inspire you, those who light a fire inside of you, who excite you! Those that you find yourself almost jumping out of your chair when spending time with. And again remember and understand through your responses, that the teachings that you will take from them is not what they tell you your internal response to their stance. Your patterns are your teachers.

The guidance that you receive from those that inspire you is the practice that you can practice in order to find your way.

Know this: that it is in the practice that you shall find your ground. Your internal response to the (consistent!) practice of this guidance will tell you what you need to know, and once you know that, you will be on your way.

 

‘The art is in the doing of it’ -Sandy Meisner

– Ben

Landmines

Nah no more selling myself for chocolate

for a sugar wrapped up

it boxes me into my own brain

a landmine of pleasure

it makes me tremor

(‘it’s plain that I think that I need it’?)

I used to measure my kale before it went in the steamer

all the cupboards were full of chicken and cottage cheese

my health was messy

I thought it couldn’t be cleaner

a counterculture to addiction

I created duality

More of me on a mission

it was creating my prison

the only answer to the energy I have to spend

was not to spend…

but my mind breaks into my problems

the ones it tries to mend

it rips them.

then i feel like a fool for not knowing,

but seeing is the only tool that I needed, no showing:

It performs itself in a moment of no judgement

Closed curtains open

No justification

The red is gone.

condemnation is a road to (‘a subtle’?) obliteration

I feel empty and heavy now that I ate the cake

a body shatters that I tried to make

my cloudy head chokes my sense

and all the steps I made.

I’m like the last runner tripping in the relay

Like a dog with a flat nose

I feel the pedigree of an addict-
going at it (‘biting back it’s’?)

Going rabbid in my thoughts..

fuck the feeling I want more-

-I always taught to listen to the feeling

cause the feeling has more meaning

than a thought could have

but now a thought has got me

by the throat

Needing a boat I rush down to the river

not for the water but the exercise…

I need to be thinner

Feeling like I’m pulled high and low at the same time

Fingers trembling

Hoping to find my feet in the future

So I can sink down from my dreams

To stop averting landmines of pleasure

Cause pleasure has no need to be pain

and I have no need to eat for leisure.

—————–

This is actually a first draft of a spoken word poetry piece that I have been working on a set for recently.

It felt appropriate to share it on this blog.

Stay strong. x

-Ben

The Truth

I wander streets in the night, I do. I practice kung fu under the street lights at the end of a dark road at quarter to 2.

Sometimes I thought I had it all figured out.

Swivelling between knowing and unknowing the point of the universe and all of its problems.

It’s a feeling and it comes up deep from my balls and my gut, and my head opens as if it was the same as everything else all along.

Talking about it sometimes, people think I’ve gone crazy. I feel it never occurred to them that I’ve seen something that possibly they haven’t.

It’s true that it’s selfish, but I struggle to see where else I can start other than from the self.

Or maybe the cork popped up in the old brain and I’m now a walking liability.

I don’t know.

I think about words sometimes. Trying to figure out why and where from. My need for insecurity rearing its little nose.

Liability: The ability to lie.

Sometimes I feel like I want to die. It sinks quickly from the high of fullness, down to the low of lost.

I miss the old days that never were, and I miss the opportunity for a life in a fantasy kingdom imagined by writers in a writing room.

I sometimes feel like a ripple a pond. Sometimes I feel like a grain of sand at the bottom of an ocean.

The way the world is looking scares me and I don’t know what to do about it… Is it the feeling or the world?

I love myself, and I hate myself too.

And I get confused about who ‘myself’ is every day.

My back aches from the weary neglect of hours at gyms in the night. And the sweat of anxiety linger as scars to today.i

It’s easy to forget that there is nothing to lose in telling the truth.

-Ben