My arms have gone

My arms have gone

they jumped overboard

all that is left are the

blood stains of yesterday

and the stumps of tomorrow

still I pick at them

the scabs of my eternal imprisonment

asking “when does this end, when will it end?!”

Knowing full well that the death of yesterday is the birth of tomorrow

and so I am cradled

in the womb of the wound

hushed at the bossom of the great mother

who holds me steady and reminds me of my birthing teeth

and my small hands that scratch at rocks

yet are capable of so much love

 

I am the body in purgatory that speaks when it is not needed

I am the gluttony and the prudence that weighs the scales down till they bend at the joints

I’ll be the flower that in death by starvation in the desert of my mind

casts its seed into the fertile land of the heart

to let it bloom

 


-Ben

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Stranger

Not normally one for a fight
I’d normally run into a fight with a spork (instead of a penknife)
Thinking I was being smart of something
Working laterally at the problem

Once I was asked to do a cartwheel
So I did a triple standing backflip and broke my neck
And I never wear a suit and tie for that reason

And I hover around normally about two feet in the air
It’s more comfortable up there, or maybe I’m just fixing world problems – who knows

But I still go for a punch up with the local 10 legged tentacle monster down the cafe on Tuesday mornings, which gives me a good training for life tomorrow

 


-Ben

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Stars

“Do you remember the stars?

They crashed down the other day

Yeah – fell into reality

We realised there’s no point in them

They’re so far away

So they fell down into the sea

There’s a couple at the bottom of the Tasman”

 

“I suppose that’s why people can’t be assed to go and get ‘em” I said

“They’re so far away.”

 


-Ben

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Experiments in Serendipity

We grow like trees in the daylight

We move like pines on the floor

When the wind in the evening carries us our hearts

We decide on the find that we’re given unto.

 

Love is a forest in the moonlight

Love is the pines on the trees

Love is the heart the will (does) carry us through

It is the pine and the needle gone through

 

Heart is the organ of suffering

The one pine that the needle won’t show

Half of this life is spent moving it’s glow

Heart is the wind and the snow

 

Soul is the moon in the evening

It is the wind in the sun and the snow

It is the breeze that does move all these pine needles along

It’s the fear of the love that will go

 

Sometimes I feel like you know me

Others I feel like you don’t

The heart that does pump blood between us

Get’s stuck as a lump in my throat

 

Half of the evening has left us

Half of the blood moon has dawned

Some of the people in Italian streets

Are the ones who would give us our dawn

 

Sunlight still shines on the paving stones

Even though we are not there

The clock striked 11 and it turned to the 12

My love left her love in the air

 

Sundays have turned into saturdays

Then back into Sundays again

The rift that has gone inbetween us

Still exits as it does from my head

 

The fallow golf struck in the morning

The deer that is far from it’s home

The bird that is sat in tree smiling

Singing songs of a lover that’s gone

 

Farewell to I

Farewell to you

The snow sits so soft in my womb

This heart is pumping

The mellow dry bloom

and it sometimes reminds me of you.


-Ben

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