The Fray

Days and hours,
A week,
Maybe a month
I lurk in the shadows.

Look
Find facilitation,
Take feeling,
Still it never has enough of the good stuff.
Drinking beginning fluids
Still never quenching
The depths in my bones
Only a brown fog of
Something
Somewhere…

Greed…
I see greed
Pouring out of me
Through need
And want to feed
On power
On feeling
On what?
You’ve got high’s and lows inside of you
You’re full of it
Makes me queasy

So day in and day out
Burns out
It becomes a chore and my muscles become sore
Bored
Tired
Burned out
I’m inspired up to my neck
And I can’t breath anymore

Songs in my head…
Loud silence.
A vessel of violence
Touting peace.

Resuscitate my childhood…

I wait
Let my stomach empty
And detail come to me
My ears hear the brustles of the brush
The crunch of feet on the stones
I slow,
Indulge in self
Until the fray fades
Into nothing

And the tug of war’s ending
Flowing out like a sea
And a turtle carries me
Now life’s clear,
I just need to be

Laughing, Learning,
Riding the wind
Observing yearning,
No swallows,
A sentiments ending’s
Never hollow

Just following the beat
Of the feet of a heart
First
I had stop
For it to start

The Fray…

It nearly tore me apart.

 


-Ben

If you liked this post, then I’d recommend checking out this post also.

Photograph by mali maeder

 

Bones

Me you and the blues
Shut out the silence
Devastation
Flushed away
Recreation
Pave the way
We don’t want to see the bones anymore

White sheets and bed linens
Sunlight and songs written
She’s bed ridden
Play a tune and keep her in the mood
For life gets in the way sometimes
You’ve got to go with it
Flow
Hit it back and get to roll with it
And you’ll get to know it
It’ll only take a minute

 

-Ben

 

 

Passing By’s

Lust and dark thoughts
Empty corridors,
Bodies full
With doped smiles
And fire underneath the plastic

Wreaking stimulants,
Transient pleasures fill my lungs and enter my brain
The delightful fuck it
Whispering in my ear
Putting it’s hand on my thigh

Need not reason but a craving to pass the time
My heavy feet drag along the concrete
The taste of a dry mouth and a flaming neck
Seem so easy to quench with a sip or a toque of what they call ‘the good stuff’

Oh I know the lies
The passing by’s
The closed ears and blood shot eyes
Open mouthed gawping at the fantastic
Explaining like lion with mane
But not with pride
Something less
Something surface and without jest
A crack in the shell of machismo merchants
Who lurk in the alleys
Stinking of times passed,
Wounds to be filled with sugar-sand and broken glass

Never have I ever known the meaning of pleasure
Nobody knows better
Than a man who’s come back from the edge
Tasted the elixir
And swallowed it.
Bliss, Love, Ecstasy,
Then the anaesthesia ran out.

Not desperate
Now only does he drip with the sweat of his brow
Pure passion
Fire by love and fury
The only hit is his own fist
Sometimes does he tire
Never does he miss

He took the holy grail
Almost turned
But got rid of it,
How?

When tempted
Full of contempt
In thoughts
Stepping back from the ledge
Still falling but seeing
I count myself lucky
For the sight that is my gift
Sold easy for a trip,
The empty form of it.

No more second guessing.
From dark
I know the light,
And that’s a
Blessing.

 


-Ben

If you liked this post, then I’d recommend checking out this post also.

Photographer: Mali Maeder

Lost Feeling #1

A feeling lost,
Trapped in a maze, a prison cell
The bars intertwine into a rope like weave
An unintentional wall keeping the inside in
And the outside out
I feel like i’ve been turned inside out
So vulnerable to sensation and contact
I turn inward with my head and shoulders
And curl into a ball
In the centre of the picnic grounds
Where everyone can stare
Even my toes curl in this glare.

Unspoken misunderstanding

Impenetrable but from the soul of the holder
Who doesn’t see it
And so runs with the key as the feeling peels it’s pulses
From his skin
It retreats with the life to the centre
Where it can
Sleep

 

With nowhere truly to hide,
The holder one day faces the bane
With peace and serenity
And like a mother to the self
Again births growth
From the inside
Out

 

The Flowers: Cycles #5

Cycles move
Cycles change
Cycles come and go away

The path is green
And dark
And frayed

Many wander through it
Missing the sights

I miss this
I say to my lover
Perched in an old Beech tree
Seeing things
I used to miss
the way it used to be…

The birds skim trees
Making music
Silhouette the evening sky.
Some searching
Pack their tiny wings
Dive bomb fall down, then rise

On my way through opening, closing gates
I see
A flower stick out among the stinging nettles

We wander
Never knowing
Really
Where we are going
Or what we will do
Me and my best friend
Follow the way,
I don’t say anything
Just watch him
Rustle through the brush

On stone I sit
Still
I can feel the dry powder top,
And wander when this has to end
Remembering cycles,
Cycles,
The tragedy of the spirit
The most beautiful thing that could be…

Now I weep for the day that you go, my love
If I grow and shrink to become old and wrinkled
And I’ll be the old man looking at the flowers
I hope that I can speak to you of that day
And hold your hand as we pass away
Completing the cycles
Together

 

-Ben