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Benjamin Adams Jan 2015
Crouching slick faced in the depths of the pines,
Drums are echoing in me like dead men.
The forest always knows how it will end,
The thick autumn painted crimson with blood.
The deer murmurs as I slowly take sight
And ran for miles after his mortal wound.

Through ravines and thorns I carefully wound:
His corpse was still beating among the pines.
Cone-needle bed is his funeral site.
Death has become the tooth-scarce grin of men.
My hands are on the shoulders of my blood:
A burden he must carry through the end.

Not long after this the deer filled the end
Of our truck and the ragged red-brown wound
Pained my eyes, hissing at me as the blood
Fled from it like a warrior who pines
For home. We cut him apart with old men
And the winter made our breath turn to sight.

Two months later my kin’s ribs are the sight
That tell me it is all about to end.
Where once stood muscle now lay paper men
Leaking memories, ready to be wound
In the splint’ring rigidity of pine
And finally make good their debt of blood

We are starving without the nature-blood
And the black smoke pollutes the holy site
Where killing became living in the pines.
Now there are machines living at the end
Of my fence, chewing on the trees, wounding
My mother with the oiled claws of un-men.

I meandered slowly towards the dead men
Now laid enshrouded deep within the blood
Of the forest. I am the living wound
Among the trees. Wooden markers show sights
Of a generation shortly ended.
There is no life among the wretched pines.

Now coming are the haunted men who pine
for the forest of their blood, but the end
has come and earth-wounds are their only sight.
Sep 2014 · 708
Honey Sweet Sun You Are
Benjamin Adams Sep 2014
She’s a darting smile in honey sweet sun
a soft speckled nap in the shade

She’s a bright red bird weaving in the trees,
a shimmering root in the reach

She’s the smoke in a starry night skyline
a kiss in warm crying light

She’s an oft turned page under tired brown eyes
a tale of trumpets and song

But most of all she’s a love long sought for
a quiet reminder of strength.
For Marcie
Benjamin Adams Feb 2014
How word conveys thine yonder form
is winter’s ice upon my ear,
No mouth can so describe the warmth
lay hous’d inside my heart endeared.

Despite all speech that one might find,
though vastly far it always spans,
your essence will lay undefined,
far beyond all ink-spotted hands.

But here I stay ever toiling,
grasping my pen yet unprepared,
Cursive paper onward coiling,
My crumpled sheets lay uncompared.

So know my love you’re all to me
beyond that which our words can see.
Wanted to write a sonnet, but broke the rules and made it 8 syllables per line.
Jul 2013 · 849
Habits
Benjamin Adams Jul 2013
There's a coke can on my desk
kinda funny since i gave 'em up
gospel is in the speakers
kinda funny since i gave 'im up
Jul 2013 · 393
None
Benjamin Adams Jul 2013
I bled my words but none landed on the paper.
10 word poem
Dec 2012 · 702
All-day
Benjamin Adams Dec 2012
My smile glistens like cracked glass.
The dancing never stops.
10 word poem.
Oct 2012 · 1.6k
Sunny October Tenth
Benjamin Adams Oct 2012
I can still feel that stained carpet on my toes, the one where I used to play tug of war with my dog until he got hit by that Mac truck in February because he’s stupid and thought it was trying to conquer his territory
or something, but now I guess I’m the stupid one, because here I am flying out over the streetlights and sidewalks, just waiting to crack against the pavement like some gigantic Humpty Dumpty, which makes me glad that there’s a precedent for not being able to put people back together, because I’m almost positive that even if they did, there would be at least one or two pieces switched around that would make just the smallest difference and then Humpty Dumpty wouldn’t really be himself anymore, and that’s sad because I’ve always at least been myself, even if a little misguided, and at least I wasn’t one of those soul ****** drones that took the medication and good god this is taking forever I chose this because I thought it would be quick, because I didn’t want to end up like the squirrel Josh ran over on White Oak Road where just about everything in him was smashed except one leg and his head and he just sat there twitching for like thirty seconds or at least until I couldn’t really see him anymore because we were driving away, which is odd because if it had been a dog or a cat we would have stopped, like the mac truck driver did for Jake in February, but since it was a squirrel we just chuckled and kept on driving over to the Dairy Queen, the biggest one in the world actually, and it even has a sign saying so, and I always tapped it as I walked inside the place, which really wasn’t so much a huge place as slightly bigger than the other Dairy Queens of the world, and I would have really liked to travel the world but it was too expensive and the world isn’t really too keen on meeting some country yokel who can’t even pronounce Thucydides correctly, which I really don’t get why we don’t have any cool names in the modern times, because everyone’s roll sheets and grave stones and birth certificates read like a grocery list,
John,
Bob,
Ben,
Joe,
and no one ever has a cool name like Pericles or Hesiod or Ajax,
but I guess that’s because no one can ever really fill out those names either, because it’d be too much like a 6 year old wearing size 17 shoes
or my girlfriend wearing my hoodie but less cute and more pathetic,
as if we had broken up and she just wanted to wear it for nostalgia  and her eyeliner is smeared all over the collar because she wiped her eyes on it and yeah, that’s probably what it’d be like if I
Creative Writing assignment: write a sentence more than 500 words on the subject given.
Sep 2012 · 991
Aurelian Stone Busts
Benjamin Adams Sep 2012
Rain weaves weary paths on the
old Aurelian stone busts
like lilting music in a
deserted ballroom.

Yellow cobblestones echo
underneath black soled shoes and
sickly noses sing.

Across the street, children laugh
like the breaking shaft of a
silverish door key in a
cold iron-clad lock.
I took a line that I liked from my creative writing assignment and built a somewhat new poem around it.
Sep 2012 · 3.6k
Rain Bright-Stars
Benjamin Adams Sep 2012
Thunder shakes its hide of rain.
Against the sky, rain retreats.

Rain makes some people lonely
but graces me like a scar.

Rain makes some people just wet.
Against your skin, rain bright-stars.

Rain drifts in deserted rooms
like a speaker suspended.
"Glisten, eyes, and rain freely."

At home flood-rain drowned my dog.
Shake your coat of rain, fly on.

Rain weaves weary paths like the
old Aurelian stone busts.

Forest rain drips, doesn't fall.
Rain runs down softly like a
colorful painted lasso.

Rain breathes on my window sill
like a loaded rifle. Rain
penetrates all skin and bone.

Rain is more serious than
a lover on his deathbed.

Rain can be pitiful like
glowing fire never dead.

Umbrellas familiar
with rain sit forgotten in
closets with old pairs of shoes.

Direwolves prance through rains with tails
held like a tarantula
in molting season beats drums.


Ashpalt puddles boil with rain.
Against the ground, rain retreats.
Another Creative Writing Assignment- This time the requirements were:
Use the word "rain" in every sentence.
Have four "strange" similes.
Must be at least 30 lines and have syllabic structure (I made mine 7 syllables per line).
Do not rhyme.
Sep 2012 · 1.4k
John the Baptist
Benjamin Adams Sep 2012
Like when they found the chariot
wheels at the bottom of the
Red Sea so was I surprised
at the faint reaching of the
fig tree, clinging to life amidst
so much dust, as it reached
ever upward in an infinite dance,
unaware of its eventual wanweird fate.
But I tracked on, crunching through
the ancient dirt, scrolls strapped
upon my back, coarse leather digging
through my camel's hair robes, sandy
grit forced in the gaps of
my toes. I cracked the locusts
and devoured them, dampening their bitterness
with the sweet warming explosion of
wild honey. So with bound Pleiades
above me, I gave witness to
Jerusalem, saying "After me will come
one more powerful than I, the
thongs of whose sandals I am
not worthy to stoop down and
untie." And I took them into
the Jordan and made them new
men. As the chill waters numbed
their muscles, their hairs pricked up
like gooseflesh, the night echoing with
splashing water and murmured voices. But
slowly the people trickled away, back
to the twang of lutes, their
ladles of soups, and I was
left alone, sitting, contemplating, always waiting.
So I sent forth the ravens,
carrying my message, to meet at
the Brookhollow no matter the obstruction,
to come by wagon or camel,
no matter of rain or flood.
But they were stubborn and prideful,
and would be moved from their
couches probably by no less than
one of Archimedes' great battleship levers,
and even then with massive groaning
like the coarse wooden hulls of
those monolithic ships. Because the sweet
taste of pastries is lodged upon
their tongues, keeping them occupied with
this world instead of the next.
So here I'll stay, always waiting.
I did this for creative writing class. 6 words per line, with these mandatory things:

    5 different sounds
    3 different tastes
    4 different tactile sensations (i.e. the feel of something against the skin)
    A city outside the U.S.
    a simple machine
    a dessert
    a fabric
    a celestial body
    a communication device
    a kitchen utensil
    a specific kind of tree
    a famous body of water
    a kind of shoe
    a brief literary quotation from before 1900
    a rare or unusual garment (e.g. a cuirass)
    a specific kind of bird
    a famous scientist (besides Einstein or Stephen Hawking)
    an interesting street name from your home town
    a piece of furniture
    a form of transportation
    a rare or unusual word (find one in the dictionary)of fewer than three syllables
    an animal
    some kind of meteorological phenomenon, i.e. weather
    a landmark
    a musical instrument
Aug 2012 · 687
Eye-Shard's Trick
Benjamin Adams Aug 2012
My mind traces your every curve and valley,
yearning for adventure in new lands.
For though unexplored, I can see you fit
me as water in glass.
So why not rush into me, why evade?
Guiding is my specialty, but you writhe
as if in storm, with wind in current as I
grasp futilely at your crashing
waves,
beg for your ordering.
But so it goes,
again,
again,
until I see you have no waves, you weather no storm.
It is merely my eye-shard's trick,
reflected as I lay broken and shattered
about the kitchen floor.
Aug 2012 · 5.3k
Old Friends
Benjamin Adams Aug 2012
I grasp fading shadows
in the remnants of lost suns.
Jul 2012 · 4.9k
Afterglow
Benjamin Adams Jul 2012
Whiskey carries me
To the fading afterglow of
Engines spent.
Jun 2012 · 676
Drowning Man
Benjamin Adams Jun 2012
You were out the other day walking,
the perfect outline of the hole in my heart
flitting around in the brightness and heat.
His arm was around your waist
like a vise around my throat.
Summer blush was rising in your cheeks
like the red creeping through my vision.
And my final false anger turned to despair
like the last frenzied motions of a drowning man.
May 2012 · 2.8k
Pi Diameter
Benjamin Adams May 2012
I'm the pi diameter,
walking razor bladed edge.
Eternally flying the circle
like a great carrion bird
living on half rotten throw away filth.
Make me your center,
the main point in your graph,
diameter divided by two.
Enfold me completely with your area
and I'll wrap you as well.
But I'm the pi diameter,
bound to follow the path
that is furthest away.
Apr 2012 · 669
What I Would Give
Benjamin Adams Apr 2012
I see people float on like leaves.
Gliding, soaring, humming about,
not a care in the world.
Glorious reds and yellows,
triumphant, even in the knowledge
that they will all end.
And so I drift along as well,
but not with a whisking of the wind like others.
I slowly make my way in the
murk of a puddle, rolling through
mud and the accumulated pollutants of
what ifs and slow eating depression.
What I would give to fly.
What I would give not to feel.
Apr 2012 · 2.4k
Every Day
Benjamin Adams Apr 2012
Become a new person.
Go outside,
talk to others!

Socialize with people you've never seen before.
Deliver some words,
cause some laughs!

Be the one people want to be.
Do the dance,
put on the mask!

Make them think you're not alone.
A commentary on what society (and our inner voice) tells us to do.
Apr 2012 · 1.9k
I Am Glass
Benjamin Adams Apr 2012
I am glass,
sharp edged and *****,
offering reflections
or even visions.
I am glass,
inanimate and still,
giving scars and taking scratches.
I am glass,
fragile and careful,
put only where it's safe.
I am glass,
receiving buffers and renewals,
shining brightly and glistening
in a new sun.
But not too brightly,
sometimes reflecting no light at all.
Because your fingerprints are always
embedded in my surface.
I am glass.
Apr 2012 · 581
Prayer
Benjamin Adams Apr 2012
I sit on a
broken wasteland of
gray dust,
willing water to
run from my fingers.
But
my veins are
cracked,
desiccated.
My body is a
husk,
flaking away.
Will you restore me?
Apr 2012 · 881
Friendship's Decline
Benjamin Adams Apr 2012
First a silence,
   drifting gently blue.

Maybe a brief prodding,
   rekindling bright yellow.

Inevitably a forgetting,
   resting ever clear.
Apr 2012 · 721
Weighted
Benjamin Adams Apr 2012
He stayed by the bed.
He waited.
As she spurned
love,
traced her fingernails
on collars and firm
chests,
chasing a carnal satisfaction,
he waited.
Through crowds she waded,
each stuttered step
in those sinful heels
drove stilettos through his
heart.
He waited.
Then she finally came back.
After all of his waiting,
she journeyed home
to stay at his side.
So he stood up and left.
Mar 2012 · 546
The Force of Habit
Benjamin Adams Mar 2012
The force of habit
drives me
to ****** noses
and
cracked ribs,
crushes me
down into the
dust,
grinds my
bones
down into
brittle sticks.
The force of habit
drives me
to drown,
to seek
sadness,
avoid the sun.
Why?
Mar 2012 · 1.4k
Existence
Benjamin Adams Mar 2012
Existence is a battle,
you fight or you die.
Existence is conquering,
making others serve you.
Whether it's people
or it's things,
earth must be bent,
bent to your will,
just to survive.
Water is stolen,
Creatures are killed.
All for a simple,
a fleeting,
a miserable
existence.

So that is existence,
but it is not life.

Life is a peace,
built in others.
Life is surrender,
a turning in.
Whether it's people
or it's things,
life is giving,
providing for others.
Water is lent.
Creatures lay down.
All for another,
all a sacrifice,
all for love.

For love is life.
Mar 2012 · 1.3k
This Cramped Fashion
Benjamin Adams Mar 2012
Here I lie
in this cramped fashion.
My feet are
contorting
and
twisting
to fit in
this bed.
My arm dangles from
the side,
my back screams
and
protests
these
pains
and
these
stresses.
All of this
sensation races
through
my body,
leaving little
trails of
spasms, cramps,
tiny needle ******.
Here I lay
in this wonderful fashion,
forever thankful.
Because this small bed
leaves no room for
the phantom feelings
of your body on mine.
Mar 2012 · 719
Dream
Benjamin Adams Mar 2012
I had you in a dream once,
it wasn't very long.
The details escape me,
but your taste,
remembered longingly.
It was all that I got,
A slight brushing of lips,
not a real kiss.
Not even a full dream,
that's as far as we got.
Before we both turned away
and reality interrupted.

Two years ago that fantasy was,
but the play of dreamlight,
the subtle upturn of your
lips is still fresh in my mind.
The familiar fit of
your hand in mine.

Familiar fit?
But it's never happened,
not in reality.
Probably not even
as a thought
of yours
playing across
an unknown destiny.
No impossible thoughts
for you to sink in.

Drown in.

So if this is so far
from real
then why is it
a preoccupation,
obsession,
that takes my every moment?
A long infected **** of blue,
that's covering,
conquering,
every facet of my mind?

I pride myself a strong
detached man.
Society begs it,
but who am I kidding?
When thoughts turn to you
my flesh is no good,
it only ***** around,
like so much cloth.
It realizes futility,
and refuses direction.

It disobeys me.
It betrays me.
It begins with convulsions,
a wracking of shoulders,
It ends with subtle gesture,
a trail of new tears.
Mar 2012 · 546
Recurring Thought (10W)
Benjamin Adams Mar 2012
I need
Everyone
So much more
Than they
Need me.
Feb 2012 · 691
My Last Touch
Benjamin Adams Feb 2012
Oh how I long.
The memory of that
        yes only a memory of it
strong embrace ebbs
        rolling unknown tide
at the edge of my mind.
        it's been so long so long
Had I known that it would be
my last touch
        fingers running first softly down her arm
I would have never let go,
        then hungrily faintly grasping her fingers
pulled with all my force,
        slowly slipping
leaving no doubt in
        we both finally turned away
either mind
that this
was real.
Feb 2012 · 802
Scaling Walls
Benjamin Adams Feb 2012
Scaling walls,
attackers cry out,
shout,
with hate-twirled love.

Arrayed in haste,
defending spears ******.
They must,
finding targets in the haze.

The fortress is impregnable,
its walls miles abreast.
A nest,
snugly holding him inside.

The ruler surveys alone,
sees the death,
forgetting his breath.
Sometimes he wishes

that his defenses were overrun.
Feb 2012 · 676
I Forgot You Once
Benjamin Adams Feb 2012
I forgot you once.

I was Free.

Your brown loving eyes
became only mud.

The curves of your body
ceased to be the shadowed rolling hills
that I was once lost in.

I was Free.

I forgot you once,
but it never happened again.
Feb 2012 · 908
Dirt
Benjamin Adams Feb 2012
Dirt clings to the most beautiful things,
for a moment it shares the glory.
It clogs and it diminishes,
But for that moment, dirt is proud,
Because it is a part, holding to something larger.
Then the object is cleaned, purified, and purged. 
And dirt is just dirt. 
Man was made from dirt.
Feb 2012 · 563
It's About Going
Benjamin Adams Feb 2012
My pen has blacked out the page.
Scratching through paper, day after day,
but my mind is in a cage.
my words are hollow, I have nothing to say.

This prison is crowded,
inmates claw at my temples.
But my key is shrouded,
I want to let them out but it isn't that simple.

Are they clawing?
Maybe they're praying,
I need to stop withdrawing,
Life isn't about staying.

It's about going,
and I am lost.
I am slowing.
What is the cost?
The first stanza very true. I've been having trouble drawing inspiration to write for the past week or so, and when I do the result hasn't been pretty. I wrote this as a way to force myself through my writer's block, so I don't think it will be one of my best works, but oh well.
Feb 2012 · 5.2k
It Snowed
Benjamin Adams Feb 2012
It snowed
today.
A great white
cloud descended,
bringing a
preview of
heavens' glorious expanse.
The children laughed and played,
and hit each other with
little spheres of cleanliness.
With flushed cheeks and frozen lips
they slowly trickled inside,
the warmth within even greater
for the cold without.
Even parents felt a warmth
in the snow as they journeyed out,
a glowing reminder that all
is not lost in this world.
But my window stayed shuttered,
my doors remained closed,
my body remained inside.
Feb 2012 · 437
Wondering (10W)
Benjamin Adams Feb 2012
Sometimes,
I sit, wondering,
"How did I even
get here?"
Feb 2012 · 839
Blind
Benjamin Adams Feb 2012
Eyes scanned page,
evaluating,
thinking,
judging.
You read
and
you thought
and
then
you talked
all about it.
The whole time
not knowing
that poem
was
all
about
you.
Not necessarily one of my greatest poems, but the sentiment was there so I wrote it down.
Feb 2012 · 818
A Moment of Regret
Benjamin Adams Feb 2012
Nothing is equal
to a moment of regret,
when everything touched
trembles with catastrophe.
When the realization hits,
that everything's not alright,
it's concrete, unchangeable.
While currents battle
within the skull, conflicting,
snatching,
the mind
is swept away
in its
undertow.
Feb 2012 · 672
To Move On
Benjamin Adams Feb 2012
I've heard it said that
to move on
is to grow,
but I disagree.
How can you grow if
you don't stop
sometime?
A tree doesn't run,
it stays.
Its roots
nurtured,
drawing strength
from its stationary
nature.
So I stopped
and I stayed
and I grew with you.
But then I figured out
that people aren't trees.
Feb 2012 · 715
My Body
Benjamin Adams Feb 2012
How do we escape?
This prison isn't steel,
iron,
even simple sticks.
These bars are made of bone,
wrapped in pleasure,
flesh.
Bound in nerves,
veins.
My prison is pulsing,
beating.
I know it's a trap,
a misconception,
but even so it's tempting
to live in the moment,
to do what gratifies me
here,
now.
My body is a traitor,
fallen,
demanding,
insidiously reaching.
Feb 2012 · 855
Primal Fire
Benjamin Adams Feb 2012
My nerves
are
smoldering.
I am alert,
filled with primal fire.
Lightning courses
through my very
bones.
My gaze
crushes.
I want to
smash
and
burn
and
break
and
rip.
Rejoice in my primality.
but even now society,
civilization,
expectations
bind me in
**chains.
Jan 2012 · 1.4k
Fatigue
Benjamin Adams Jan 2012
I am tired.
my thoughts
       drift


         downward


    like
                leaves
                       on
                  an
            autumn
      day          
        departing
       a tree's
           sustenance

        eventually
                            
landing on a still black pond
deep and lightless but clean.
        Clinical.
         and
          so the
            leaf
             sinks
to the mud encrusted bottom
that only I can penetrate alone.
A place where dark emotion is logic                          
and logic is simply gone, wrong, contrived.
No breathing, no solving, every semblance of
normality and happiness simply rotting while
I try to contemplate which of me is truly me.
Am I slowly gasping, forgetting, expiring,
or am I glowing, forgiving, exhilarating?
Jan 2012 · 1.6k
Identity
Benjamin Adams Jan 2012
The walls of fate
tower before me
stone and
unyielding
mocking
in its
immortality
I close
my eyes
my guts
roil
squirm while
faces erupt
and subside
green oceans
waters in a storm
inside me
they're all me
but not really
It's past time
I finally
need to
choose
a face.
No punctuation was on purpose, and it's meant to be read at a rushed, hectic pace. My own struggle with who I am.
Jan 2012 · 851
Anger
Benjamin Adams Jan 2012
I'm tired
of receiving.
I'd rather be
giving the scars.
10 word poem. Yes, I took liberties with my contractions.
Jan 2012 · 803
Tempting
Benjamin Adams Jan 2012
I
come
stumbling,
slowly finding.
I finally hear her,
calling seductively
from the bedside table,
wearing the form fitting
black dress that I gifted her.
But now she gives a gift to me.
A way to let go of the weight.
Tempting me far too much
to simply deliver "no."
She's an old friend.
We now rejoin.
This is how
I imagine
eating
my
gun.
To clarify, no I am not planning on committing suicide. I heard the phrase "eating my gun" the other day on a TV show and I've been mulling it over for a while now. I decided it would be interesting to channel my own experiences and attempt to reach that mindset, and this is the result.
Jan 2012 · 666
I Imagine
Benjamin Adams Jan 2012
Sometimes when I lie in bed,
I imagine
your essence of being
laid in outline with mine,
our fragile bodies melded close.
I imagine
us swimming not only
in these earthly pleasures,
but the cool-glass waters of the mind
I imagine
all of the joy,
how it would be,
if it simply could be.
Somewhat of a "typical" teenage poem, but I still felt like writing it.
Jan 2012 · 706
All Sing of Fall
Benjamin Adams Jan 2012
Sometimes I sit,
and I ponder,
and I claw for inspiration.
Filth encrusted metaphors
burst like bog bubbles.
Fill my mind.
Sleek and killing similes
pounce through synapses.
Claws in brain.
All sing of fall,
of decay.
Of mud and grime
clinging to souls,
like guilt to a survivor.
Sometimes I sit,
and I ponder,
and I claw for inspiration
only to find
that these aren't true,
they can't be true,
or at least
they're only shadows
compared to the giant flame,
because the world
is always getting better.
I find that I normally see the world, and especially people, in a continually negative light. However, when I look closer, I can always see how life is improving. While it may be a bit idealistic, this poem addresses that.
Jan 2012 · 460
This Beauty
Benjamin Adams Jan 2012
Can't you see?
Just look out of you.
This beauty
comes not only from within,
but from farm, field, mountain, and glen.
Happenstance and luck had no place
within what is simply heaven's grace.
But yes another gift was choice,
and yes what shakes is my voice
because I cannot force
this society's course.
I cannot show you this is real,
that it is not just how I feel.
That this is truth.
This is light.
But what hurts the most
is seeing the ghost,
the old you,
the knowing you,
the you that's gone.
I wrote this poem in a rush of emotion after a close friend who had helped me establish my own faith confessed to me that she did not believe in God anymore.
Jan 2012 · 729
Comfort
Benjamin Adams Jan 2012
Comfort
is knowing
I am more
than my frail body.
I saw others trying their hand at ten word poems, so I though I might as well join in.
Jan 2012 · 1.3k
Neutral
Benjamin Adams Jan 2012
What do you write about when you're empty?
not
a depressing,
a dreary,
a crying empty.
Just
a sitting
a wondering,
a being.
Not content,
not needy,
just neutral.
When that spark eludes you,
when the profound refuses to
scream and scratch
at the borders of the mind,
What do you do?
Maybe strike pen to page in defiance
or just simply think,
maybe go for a run,
or simply drink.
When you're neutral
options are open,
all open.
When you're neutral,
you're free.
Benjamin Adams Jan 2012
We all know
what to do
on land
in sun.
Laugh and share
love and care.
But what about
the deep?
What about
the underneath?
Lessons taught
don't compare
to the devil's lair in blue.
Sinking
        d
         o
          w
           n.

Unknown
against
Unknowing.

Plunged
into an ocean,
bottomless and blue.
Oh yes it's deep
no bottom in sight to keep,
certainly no surface.
I kick as told,
through the cold.
Glad I took
swimming lessons.
But even so,
my swimming lessens.
Dec 2011 · 1.8k
Homeless
Benjamin Adams Dec 2011
Brown-gray whiskers
chaotically twirling
wreath his face.
A testament to hardship
and wisdom accumulated.
His eyes are an ocean
deep and unknowable.
Monsters swim in its deep,
Indescribable.
His face is cracked and wrinkled
but the skin is taut
too tight and jawline stretched.
Mist-like hair meets shoulders,
greasily tangling.
In front of him a rust spotted buggy,
creaking
groaning
holds his world.
Trash bag continents slide against each other
making new mountains,
transforming
shopping cart geography.
I meet his eyes on the sidewalk
but quickly look away.
I always look away.
Dec 2011 · 2.0k
Individuals
Benjamin Adams Dec 2011
Every day we're told
of our specialty-
        Individuality.
We're all different
not sensible-
        Incomprehensible.
To see another mind
even marginal-
        Impossible.
But the more I look.
deep down
        Around
we're really all
the same-
        even in name.
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