I normally like to write poetry
When someone just might read,
I normally like to feel wanted
When all I really do is dream.
So who cares what I think,
This poem will be short lived,
But that is because I guess we all
Know I STINK...

Well, I guess for this poem I deserve an E!

I ran down the muddy track
Certain that the art of losing was too easy to master
But no, behind my back
Ran hundreds of other people, faster,
and faster they ran.
not for fame
because they too were running in the marathon
of life's shame
they too were jobless
like me
maybe penny-less
the competition was too tough for me
after all, I'm a young chap, you see
Thus,
I bequeathed myself to the ***** track
Fell there
Gave up
Cause I knew, I was never the man for the job.

I am slowly learning to use my words—

allowing the ink to besmirch these immaculate fingers
as I weave out my sloppy cursives around feint rules
like hydrangeas climbing lattices in the early summer;

spelling out vulnerability with every bit of hope
left glistening in these swollen, tear-stained eyes,
and unfaltering love with all five letters of his name.

I am slowly learning to use my voice—

heaving out the dust that’s settled over things left unsaid,
and rolling out my tongue to intimately slip off naked truths
my throat has been choking on in the silence of fear;

drawing constellations between the kisses of my lips
to faithfully concede to the phonetics of needs and wants,
and articulate every syllable with the intonation of desire.

So read between the lines, and listen closely—

pick apart my words and unravel the candor in my stutter,
unzip and unbutton every unsent letter I’ve ever written,
and watch me strip down on these pages in poetry-laced lingerie.

I am no longer that bashful submissive sprawled across the bed,
softly moaning for the pleasure of attention and the pain of neglect
under the crippling fear of loss firmly taped over my mouth.

I am slowly learning to ask for what I still and have always wanted—
I'm sorry it took me so long.

Plant two feet firmly where I stand
You'll never move me from here again
I never wanted me and you to end
Now I've got to find another way for us to begin
But I like the sensation I feel
It makes me believe what I've felt is real
I'm standing strong and firm
This hurricane won't ******* from here
And you can pretend
I don't mean anything at all
You can believe I won't find a way
For you to react
I thought it came down to all the memories
But now I realize there is so much more
Out there for you and me
I didn't want to give in to these emotions
But I see the girl
As more than what we are now
I see you as apart of me in everything
And I thought there was no chance.
But now that I've had another glance
Your my future, your my world
I'm changing my ways for you, for me.
The story doesn't end here
There's something deep inside
That brings me back to you
It's more than just your beauty and grace
Baby girl this must be fate

©2017 Written By Benji James

In my mind I never try
I figure it out easily and never have to cry
Everyone talks about potential
But I think I lost mine in the instrumental
When life gives you lemons you make lemonade
When life gives me lemons I find another way
If Genius lives one story above madness
Than which story is the story of sadness.
I think that effort is the one thing I can never give
Because I don't even know how to but effort in because it was never necassary
Now I'm just lost because I don't know how to live
But now it seems to me that your just my adversary

I grade myself too much,
although I am the teacher,
write a poem, tear it up,
before there are any readers.

I rate myself too much,
although im not the audience,
click post poem, delete it later,
thinking no likes means no reminisce.

I hated myself once,
before I could make fun,
trauma days embarrassing ways that this day was not reachable from.

I choose to lighten up,
maybe buy some wine.
take a walk get chased by a dog
then stop and ask it why.

i've got the dark side of the moon
On its back, crescent-cut, undereye.
A sign of my exhaustion,
Which i use to fuel my rise.
Everything below but bare remembrance,
Like my fridge, running empty.
Or so i surmise.
Guess i'll fill it or guess I'll die.
This approach? Unsustainable.
i'm ragged, climbing through life,
The ***** only slows, steepening,
i Think it's about time I fly.