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Marco Benitez May 2018
The rose sits
The rose waits
The rose does not talk
The rose does not walk
The rose hangs down
The rose keeps a frown
The rose is permanently stuck
The rose is consequently plucked
Marco Benitez Mar 2018
When my feelings are twisted and my mind distorted,
Hand me a knife
Hand me a knife to slice away my sorrow
To distract my depression with blood
To remember the number of times I felt miserable
One scar at a time
Hand me a knife to tear open my skin
So some of the sewage of my body can leave through the opening that I make
Don’t worry
It does not hurt when I make the cut
It only burns a little afterwards
I promise the knife will not get close to my throat
or at least I don’t think so
You don’t have to see the cuts
They can hide under my sleeves
Just hand me a knife!
You will never suspect I used it
It will not be the first time
It will not be the last time
That I paint a silver knife with my own blood
I promise it will be fast
I will cut,
Wash the knife,
And greet you the next morning
As if nothing ever happened
  Mar 2018 Marco Benitez
matthew
the code red alarm rings
echoing in the halls
we drop to the floor
almost in unison
is this the end?

the teacher
the one who we trust
to protect us
is just another sheep
in this herd
of fear

nobody is safe
nor are we above
anyone else
we are equal

we are shaking
as we hug the ground
waiting

waiting
to be slain
waiting to be saved
but still
waiting

i am lucky to say
it was only a drill

but for those
across the country
they weren't that lucky

they were shot at
they were killed
they watched
their loved ones
die

we live in a country
where guns
matter more than
our kids

where an AR-15
can be purchased
by anyone

but when tragedy strikes
people act shocked
they send their prayers
their thoughts

**** that.

prayers and thoughts
don't do anything

they don't bring back
those we have lost
they don't take
the grief away from us

things won't change
until we start a riot
until we can really make a change

we are the home
of mass shootings

we need to change that
  Mar 2018 Marco Benitez
haley
after his lips
brazed mine, i understood what
churches meant to saints;
death and rebirth and homecoming and
ease. the artistry of our
flesh meeting flesh,
gentle grassroot heartbeats finding
heaven in the moles on our shoulders, our
inner thighs. he hums a hymn of becoming and i
join the chorus: a
kingdom of quiet wednesdays and
leaving forget-me-nots on my pillowcase to bloom.
murmurous, he sweetens my melancholy; our
naked bodies left bare to the seasons,
over and over again, unafraid. i
part my gracious fingers and
quilt for him a makeshift
rosebush beneath blue eyes and
summery glances. our
testimony is this:
underneath july starlight,
victory is found in the
warmth of our
xanthic chapel; a
yearlong love story left
zen in our delicate rapture
my first a to z poem about my sweet love. enjoy
Marco Benitez Mar 2018
A fine night
Or so you thought

The moon decided to hide today
And even though not much on the ground is visible,
There is a showcase of stars in the sky.

You are sitting in your room
Looking out the window
Admiring the display of lights,


In the middle of your peace

You hear the echo of an intruder

The sound of someone demanding to get in

A knock

Could it be?
This late in the night?
Who would be brave enough?
Who would be willing to leave their residences, an hour past midnight, in order to get to you?

Maybe you just imagined it
Maybe the sound was nothing but a phantom of your imagination.

You decide to ignore it
And you resume your imagination
You let it pull you closer to the stars
Your whole existence revolves around the beauty of nature

Knock Knock

It pulls you back to reality
You start to realize
Someone's outside
Someone whats to get in
And you ignored them.

Knock Knock

But who?
Your mind lacks the creativity to think
To think of the reason
Or the identity
Of the living soul standing at your door

Knock Knock

You try looking out the window
Maybe a look at their face might turn the gears in your head
But the web of constellations only light the sky
And the ground remains blind

Knock Knock Knock

What a stubborn being!
Can't it have a bit of patience?
What could possibly be so urgent?
What could he possibly have to discuss at this hour?

Knock Knock Knock Knock

Irritated
Frustrated
You leave your window
And march down the stairs
This being could not possibly be related to you

KNOCK KNOCK

You finally reach the door and touch the ****

A thought strikes your mind
As sudden and powerful as when a firework reaches the sky

There was only one answer
Only one reason behind the why
Only one exception for peace in this marvelous night

This being was being chased
This person was trying to hide
This creature was in danger

It was asking for your attention
It was asking for your help

Was it too late?
Had the lonely soul left?

KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK

It was still there!

KNOCK

There was still hope

KNOCK

There is no time to waste

KNOCK

Your hand wraps around the handle of your door
Full of impatience
You pull open the door to the entrance of your house

You let the darkness embrace your entrance

The silhouette of the beast in the distance

And unfortunately

You don't manage to see the face of the thing your just salvaged

Because the bullet was quicker than your eyes.
  Mar 2018 Marco Benitez
NuBlaccSoul
We are forgotten yesterdays of tomorrow,
note-booked mementos on thighs time travelled,
back from the future, few tsha-tsha with flashes,
blackouts and gray-matter gashes
The slurred dance of good memory,
crib-notes on collar-bones,
bare chest, a loose tie, knots, not around neck
formal education white-suits, tucked-in remembering.

A formal date chasing me indoors.
chasing me into doors of consistent
nurturing nature of the neuro
doors on the right, left doubt outside.
A manner of hindsight sighs.

Running back to tomorrow to save my 4 unborn children
from my present past. Amnesia.
The pendulum swings in reversed backwards.
Forward is just an antithesis, poor protest-art
An analogue, roman-concept coded in digital now.
Fraudulent, faux and pseudo. We look at the sun
to tell day from night. Progress practising stillness
Passage of pain frozen in time,
sun is amber lantern,
phantom of what & who has risen,
out of resin's
suspended-infinity-loop prison.
The bitterness of honey stings
sour-sweet on the taste buds of trauma.
Strolling up memory lane, compassion
for former faults. Less envy, only empathy
Fragments of a broken dream further smashed
can’t fill in the gas smothered cracks.

We died many deaths.
A mass burial, a mountain of bodies brewing
under the garden, the slumbering soil wakes.
3 is the number of perfect balance and god.
Ma’, Sister, and I.
Mother died the day Doctor
told her that the body she named
Home was evicting her, with a 10-year-notice.
She must have watched herself
watch herself
sitting on covered couches
thinking what a theft of life
this holy trinity is –
what is left
to see
here?

I saved all pain of breaking
bones for this,
I ran in opposites, dislocated my hip
tore tender tendons, I have a Belgian-Congolese tendency
never stood for much but numbness
an absence of nothing because
feelings ****.
I saved haunting ghosts of night for day
For this day
For today.
All these reservoirs of resilience won’t be enough,
ever.

I wept
winter sunsets –
to remind my new self on the coldest of nights
that once time was warm days
a slice of life’s beauty in Redemption.

Efforts tuck sweat under my arms,
gravity grounding my prideful chest down.

A bed of waves
afloat sober dreams
nightmares of wrinkled water
submarine my day dreams
and flowing peace.
Please be polite and let me be.

I now know, less hoarding.
A pair of paradox, or pandora's box: written by Phila Dyasi
Published by: NuBlaccSoul

To call it an existential crisis
would speak exclusively to a disturbance relating to the decaying case
that encapsulates my eternal hold of being.
NO!
This crisis is a crises extending to the infinite.
A philosophical and metaphysical troubled state.

NB: Please comment and critique and share :) Feedback is always welcomed.

(C) 2018. Copyrighted 19 February
2018 NuBlaccSoul™. All rights reserved. Please quote poem with author name, poem title and date published if sharing to external sites without the link or/and if sharing an excerpt of the poem.
Marco Benitez Mar 2018
You stole my attention since the first time I saw you.
You stole my breath once you started talking to me.
Your charm managed to wound me up.
Even when this toy had lost its batteries.

This bandit has stolen all of my being.

You are magnetizing,
I can't get myself to look away from you
A simple gaze at you melts all of the ice that gathers around my heart.

Your presence is bittersweet
When your eyes are on me, all of my body becomes your puppet, and I stay motionless.
My eyes, to scared of leaving yours, and too scared to keep looking at them.
I crave and dread your gaze.

When you get close, I can feel the warm of your body.
It relaxes my muscles and calms my mind.
Be that as it may, you sometimes come closer than what I expect
The sudden surprise of heat shocks me into place
With your body close to mine,
My skin starts to shiver
You break through my house of confidence,
Weaken all of my defenses,
And steal my heart right out of me

I love your personality.
A personality I can relate to even though it is far more admirable than mine.

You have beauty
Not only in your magnetic looks
But in your perseverance and humanity
It gives you a strength beyond physical

You have taken my admiration with you.

I love your voice,
A melody of its own.

The simphony reaches my ears,
And they ask for more.

I love your interests .
There is always something to learn from you
Not once have I gotten bored.

I love your smile.
The way it stretches across your face,
It shines more than just light within every laugh.

I love your flaws
They remind me you are human
Despite the perfection you have reached

You have robbed my bank of words
The sugar sweet phrases I had never used
Now exist in your box of memories

I love this magnificent thief

He has taken my heart...



And I don't mind if he keeps it for a while
...
Is this what it's like to fall in love?
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