I fade a little more
I don’t want to disappear
But some of us are special
And some can’t belong.

There are thoughts burned in my head.
I wonder what they’re made of
I wonder if they’re real.

I’ll never know the truth
There isn't any truth.

We’re all just misfits
And we don’t belong.

© Ben Ditmars 2014

Almost never was
what we became

somewhat tired
somewhat hungry
somewhat vagrant
huddled in the ether
of our aspirations

possibilities in ruins
like hieroglyphics
crushed into the rock
our song reduced to
ashes in the sand.

the something that we had
becoming vaguely mythical
and somewhat lacking.

© Ben Ditmars 2014

Spring grapes die on withered vine
Wine of wrath flows bitter red
Isis' son seeks Babylon
Avenge by death the deed of Set

Along Euphrates course they fled
From march of madmen to the throne
And wine of wrath flows bitter red
Eagles flock to hawk by drone

Hung within a garden high
Black masks the march of death
Give new life to Levant's lie
And wine of wrath flows bitter red.

r~ 6/17/14

lifelike confessions
play out like make believe

your metal warms
against my skin
reprogramming resistance

fabricated sweet talk
counterfeit concern
become too real

and I am drawn
more willingly
than magnetized.

© Ben Ditmars 2014

i wonder if you wonder
does she write me poems
and sing me lullabies
even when i am not home?

i wonder if you wonder
is she okay?
she told me more than once
she cant live without me

is she okay? do you ask yourself
and wonder what i am now
without you here?

Yesterday, my psyche took a beating,
Today, I feel like a bruise
That is past its angry, blue-black peak
And throbs with a dull, distracting ache.

Like the aftermath of a storm
When the formerly purple clouds lighten
But still threaten a final, farewell wetting.

That's me, a bruise of many hues
Across a canvas of undetermined mood,
Turbulent, fierce, bleeding still,
Close to the surface, threatening to break.