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Ben Ryan Mar 2012
4
Ideas come to me
My pen and paper
Set them free for all
To see.
A glimpse of me.

My thoughts flow through me
My fish in my stream
Free to jump and gleam
Like me.
Vibrant with glee.

My thoughts fly by me
My birds off to sing
Songs echo and ring.
You must
Listen: let it be.

Ideas came to me
My pen and paper
set them free, for all…
Be free.
Ben Ryan Jul 2012
The boulder seems
Cold to the touch.
The calluses on my fingers
Scratch at the rock.

Slowly the tools
Come into my hands.
Piece by piece
My hammer chips and chinks.

Blisters break open
And the rock
Turns to steel.

Hot metal, fired
In the oven,
Sparks to life
With each
Strike of my hammer.
Heavy tools feel light
In my hands.

The metal cools
The blade begins
To shimmer.
And then melt.

Like ice on a hot day,
The steel drips
Deep burgundy
Gently, slowly
Into the chalice
In my hands.

The elegant golden cup
Vessels the fine wine
Into my mouth.

But it is only stagnant water
In a cup made of stone.
Ben Ryan May 2012
Where is my mind?
Trapped in my words.
Where is my heart?
Flying with the birds.

Paper can’t contain
What my heart sees
In it’s gaze.
My conscious can’t cut
It’s thick smoggy haze.

Beat after beat
My heart flutters
It’s wings.
Looking down
On the World
It glides with ease.
My mind can’t keep up
It’s spastic
Like the bees.

Together they work
Against one another.
Only my love
Can link them together.
Ben Ryan Mar 2012
Silently you speak to me
Through expression,
Both woe and glee.
Like no others that I see.

Your eyes can do it all,
They’ve inspired love
At its deepest fall.
They lift me up yet make me crawl.

Your mind does it best,
Its truly free
Unlike the rest.
She follows heart in every test.
Ben Ryan Jul 2014
He saw a small animal running
On a wind and a whisper.

If the wind had an air of fear
The tiny beast was tearing through
the leaves and the bark and the dirt and the cigarette butts with a passion that couldn't be tamed.
Escape from the evils that chase you
he thought.

Maybe he was the evils.
If the wind had an air of hope
Then the creature was bounding
with a still resolute destiny around
the next fallen branch.
Find your prayers in the dust
He thought.

Maybe he was the prayers.
If the wind had an air of love
Then the being was moving of absolute and resounding certainty
Yearning to take each step and leap quicker pushing the brink of existence to get to his livelihood.
Find your steps to reach your hearts desires he thought.

He knew his own desires.
He knew because they were in
The whispers.
Ben Ryan Jul 2012
Her footsteps sounded
In a time unbounded
By pain
And worry
And woe.

The day carried on
Until she was drawn
By lust.
Innocence
Destroyed.

A serpent made sure
The lovely and pure
Woman
Would return
To dust.

The cobbled red stone
Lays low as her throne
The earth
Reclaims the
Beauty.

Eve’ning colors shined
But mankind is blind
To beats
And dances
Of old times.
This poem was written in conjunction with a canvas and oil painting by L.M. Ryan.
Ben Ryan Jul 2014
Maybe it's time
The captain goes to.
Maybe it's wrong
But I still want to ask you.
I know it's been long
But now it hurts like a loose
Cheap shirt
That's patiently grinding away
At the skin and flesh
That I call home that I call
My own.

It would be justified if the assaults Came
In waves
Of gratitude and respect and all the Pillars of hope and love that we
Stand on
High
Unexalted and unimpressed
With the thoughts that dwell deep Within.
They don't.
And the presiding rune says
"Maybe give up".


**** that it's time
To fight. Fight yellow tooth and Chipped glossy nail
For what's yours.
Fight with threads pulled tight
By the wind
Flying high into the blue but beyond That into the place
Where you can be exalted.
Ben Ryan Mar 2013
Poems is wrong
Due to this red line.
Maybe poems died
Long time ago, and
The Word buried
Them.
With red line.

Word wants
Properly placed punctuation
Punctuating. My. Thought.
Stop flowing and go
Back your work is a
Fragment,
Consider revising.

How about if I run
And run and run
Run as fast as I
Can I’m tearing through
White with black is
Coming from me but
It’s not a pen and
Then I see that
Red again.

It sees me running
And knows I can’t
Get away. From the
Steel bars and concrete walls.
Soon I’ll give in and
Start my proper grammar.

It knows me, it
Knows my work. As
I tirelessly follow those strict rules about how to make it all scholarly.
A work of impressive
Measure. 98.

**** that! I want
My judging arrogant
Red lines back.
Those are my fans.
Highlight the best parts
A festive zig-zag.
Green and red decorations
Everywhere
Just like Christmas.

Poems is wrong
But someone made
It’s real.
If poems is wrong
Speak wrong too.
I’ve never
Considered revising.
Ben Ryan Mar 2012
I’ve seen you dance
Your eyes caught my glance.
I’ve watched your mind turn
I still see your eyes burn.

Wildly they steam they shimmer.
I’ve felt your love through their glimmer.

They beam to me untying my woe
As if it was a soft silk bow.
Ben Ryan Mar 2012
A man comes to a divergence
Two paths in his view.
One tamed and treaded,
One dark and dreaded.

A man moves to the neglected,
So he may follow in the wake
Of more impressive footsteps.
Ben Ryan Mar 2012
Capsized then washed ashore
Overwhelmed and soaked through
Disconnected, all is past.
Time crawls by,
Sand falling in an hourglass.

The world’s not too big
I’ve always been too small,
Downtrodden by what falls.

No room on the island
Waves fade in and out.
No monsters to scare
You.
Just thoughts in the dark.

What happened to my
Brothers?
What happened to my
Lovers?

The hardest questions to
Cope with
Resound heaviest
In my mind.

Nature sustains me physically,
Mentally I am starved.
Language didn’t survive
The storm that made me capsize.

Thoughts fly by
Tangible as the birds.
Words echo from my mouth
But the sounds are only waves.

Is this where I belong?
And does it matter
If this is
Where I am.




Where am I?
Nowhere anyone knows.
Relatively,
Nowhere at all

My ship was sailing
And the skies shown bright blue.
My ship was sinking
And my eyes couldn’t think it through.

It was never a boat,
Never claimed by the sea.
I woke up and my plane just landed.
So why do I always feel so stranded?
Ben Ryan Nov 2013
Maybe you shouldn't
You might be no good.
The runs you use
    Arid drags through the dead dry woods.

One day you could be great
A Marrash of My Computer.
But right now your just a union.
   A shredded rubber melded with a rusty, obliterated grate
Chalky granular air spoiling my stare
Art.

Diamonds are forever banished
And that aphotic space gets smaller
And the rough gets rougher
And the facets lose face.
    No blogs will bulge grace.
Ben Ryan Mar 2012
He walked full of class
Pinky never touched glass.
Sharp in the thread
Stiff lip and moustache.

When angry he turned red
His taunts filled clients with dread.
Even his wife wasn’t at ease
When Mr. Gada was raising dead.

His day started with grease
In his hair, and pressed every crease.
Next the pills glazed his eyes
And dampened his seize.

The cheat hid many lies
A past life was no surprise.
He told her he was focused
He talked with clever disguise.

He worked to fill his lust
But late nights made the Mrs. mistrust.
If she said a word his blood would steam
She lay silent, wishing to feel just.

But karma came to ream
His ugly and immoral scheme.
He let business mix with pleasure
Trips to Spain made his dream.

The mistresses husband saw her
And came charging in full measure.
Took a knife to the cheaters cheat
In a jab he lost his treasure.

Spain’s doctors laughed at his meat
Fixing would be too much a feat.
Mr. Gada sobbed and cried
When his wife threw him out on the street.
Ben Ryan May 2012
Reality consumes me.
Bright trees look gloomy
When my eyes are opened.

I am lost, but I still
Wander.
My path is clear, my
Destination…I still
Ponder.

When my eyes close
My sight is in rose.
A satin breeze carries me
Home.

No home for the lost.
I remember what I’ve found
And what I’ve crossed.
The stars tell me its hopeless
No home for the lost.

Around the bend
And to
The top.
Piece by piece I climb
And fall.

Maybe…is the end in sight?
The fall of dark
Is swept by light.
Warmth grows in me.
Strangely I feel delight.
Reaching the summit
My eyes open wide.

All that I see is how much
I cried.
Ben Ryan Mar 2013
A pair of shoes
That have no
Sole.
Worn to the
Ground, they
Still walk
Around.

Proudly torn
They hold
Together.
Frayed laces
Can still keep
The rabbit at
Bay.

These shoes have
Never heard the
Dogs bark.
Never walked in
Anyone else’s shoes.

They stay proud.
A spring in every
Step.
These shoes are
Full of soul
After all.

After all they’ve
Been through.
Still know ev’ry turn
And kick.
Every step makes them
More comfortable
With themselves.

Until they are
Left.
It’s not right.
New shoes may
Shine.
But these shoes
Are mine.
Ben Ryan Apr 2013
One more ******.
Just push
And maybe I'll feel
Just a little budge.
No...no give
Just take. No time
To heal.


There is time
When I think
The time is lost in
Thought.
A clock who's
Concern is not
To tick but tock.

Daydreaming about
What makes us tick
Makes him lose track.

Instead he just sits,
Wondering if he'll ever
Be wound back.

Here I'm just sitting and
Waiting. A clock  
That won't tick,
Won't tok
And can't be walked
Can still be
Right
Twice a day.

How can
I ever know
When the time is

Right?
Ben Ryan Mar 2012
I can fare any roads, any paths
Often traveled or never seen
Because, on my paths,
I will always follow what I have grasped.

From failure recover and feel appeased
This is the only way to learn and succeed.
Failure, pain, and loss will strengthen me.

And all my paths will be blest

Because
I know what I Love
EverLasting,
And who I Love
Forever Lush.

Because
My love for family is pristine,
Mother Father
Brothers
Foremothers Forefathers.

Because
Fate will only guide me,
Never mislead me
Nor define me.

Because
I keep my beliefs in my heart,
But out of my mind
Where they would cloud my judgment.

And all my roads will hold no contest.

Because
I will not simply awaken each day,
But awaken each day with passion abreast.
Ben Ryan Mar 2012
Peaceful turmoil, and a roar
So blue. The gentle sounds
Come crashing over you. Puckered
Green in a scope white and true.
How can you lose hope
With such beauties around you?
Ben Ryan Mar 2013
Maybe it's the thick
Of things. That's what
Takes your breath.
That thick sticky
Recombinant air.
Waiting, hanging, plotting
Against my lungs.

Or it could be the
Water. Poison swilling
In the bottle. Cutting a
Canyon inside me.
A crevasse I cannot
Cross.

My boots could be
The culprit. Strangling
My legs and tearing
Into my flesh.
They drag me by
My ankles. I'm
Being dragged for
Miles, but no one
Can know where.

The backpack is
Trying to save me.
Pulling against
Whatever
Took me here.
A friend trying to
Keep me from a fight.

My friend couldn't
Save me.
I must be dead.
The air must have
Taken my breath.
The poison river must have
Cut through me.
My boots must have
Taken me
To my grave.

And then I went to
Heaven.
The only place where
True beauty
Surrounds you like this.
Must. Be. Heaven.
Must be...
Ben Ryan Mar 2012
Have faith the ends

They will justify the means

And thoughts will bring

The unclean and unseen

To move and to sing

Gently and quickly

With lust and lean.
Ben Ryan Jan 2013
If only I could tie
All the birds to
The tree.
A simple cord
From branch to knee.


The birds would work
Together. In chaos
Comes flight.

Carry the tree south…a message:
The winters are warmer.
Before the oak wilt sets
Before the mistletoe comes.

The birds can save the trees.
Instead they sit and Tweet.
Then **** on my car.
Ben Ryan Mar 2012
Smooth cool waves
Wash the banks. Gently they
Roll, in harmony with the
Tanks. Unnatural thunder
Carries the ground.

The creek shimmers bright,
A reflection of starlight
On a background of blaze.
Firesmoke clouds and thick haze.

On the right the tanks
Subside, the flames
Have caught their eyes.
The creek laid border
To destruction against disorder.

Slowly the metal creaks
And trembles. The watery
Banks protect the tanks

But the flames draw closer.
Just a short while
‘Till they bleed over.

Fires burn the banks away.
No border can stop the
Blaze. Nature engulfs
The tanks of man.

Day after Day the
Fires burn nights.
Crimson and orange wisps
Hide the starlight.

When the fires subside
All left is nature’s pride.
The creek flows on,
A path to my dreams.

The tanks have overrun
The fires wake has only
Begun.

Arising from the ashes
New life comes in dashes.
To drink from the spring,
The crossroad of fire and machine.

— The End —