If I can so easily see (and so deeply love)

both sides of your multifaced self, don't you think
you also can start at least try seeing  and loving
yourself as equally beautiful (simultaneously, so) parts,
who's congruent sum so beautifully make within you,
  the whole?

Look at you shoot and scoot (run back and hide)
after never even (until now) having a taste of being seen
(and yes, Babe.. loved) for who it is that you truly are
( a beautifully.. goobery, complex sum of the whole)..
growing,  as you little by little embrace the truth,
and in doing so, have the broken-into-shards ,
tainted perspective within your trauma-stricken mind
become slowly rebuilt  and renewed  

    into an accurate picture of the true you..
Even if that picture is conveyed back to you  
as I hold the mirror's reflection up to you
(a reflection that your beautifully.. at times, open heart
paints upon  innerwall linings of my heart-infused soul)  

and then you admittedly (your beautiful honesty, again)
jet back into your world of daily distractions..
    So I say to you, beautiful girl..

It is you that chose to reveal to me your true self
in a way that I could so easily grasp  within all of who I am
as I struggled to keep myself from truly falling in love
with your gorgeously-blatant honesty..
  so I ask you once again--
Why would you so beautifully choose to  paint
your true self upon the inside of a man
that you knew and believed could actually  convey
the utter and beautiful reality
of that incredible picture back to you:
   but do it in such an unholy, sneaky way
   as to be able to bypass any and all of your intricate,
   security (survival) based defense system
   in a way that the true view of you could (and can)
   actually get through?

You fear the congealed congruency  of the truth
of your own consolidated glory,
   as if you are forced to live within the resignation
   that the  true  parts within you
   cannot co-exist  equally and simultaneously
   within you at the same time,
   without the (feared) unbearable tension
   and anxiety within you

    causing your own spontaneous annihilation.

But still, young Beautiful...
You  showed  me  you,  anyways.

You did not do it because you hate you,
that we can both agree on..
But the manufactured (created) you
has a whole world of relation (its own form of 'connection')
   built around  the you  that feels safe inside
   if the presented image to that world
               remains loved and cherished
But also, good as people that they are..  they find you..
   (you,  who so well emanates a self that congeals
                                with their emanated self).

..So when you enter into a room  
that you can truly breathe (as your true self)  in--
As you prepare to exit its beautiful doors,
you almost have to (temporarily) sever all there is of you
that you have so beautifully and tangibly painted (imprinted)
upon the insides of all of who it is that I am.

You are beautiful within your entirety.
I am not intimated by it,  nor am I threatened
by the possibility of its beautifully shining glory
being 'stolen away' by another. The gift of it all to me
is that you have chosen to reveal your true self to me
   even though you very well  knew
   what it was going to cost you--
   (the stronghold within your manufactured self)
And so now,  here you are--
   shaking and trembling   within the
   unprotected tenderness of your own,  newfound Glory.

You feel it here within these four walls
like you have felt it in no other place on earth,
..So why would you want to betray yourself
by running and hiding back into your detachment?
It is horrifying to be seen and loved like this, I agree..
   But think of this...

What if what is seen and felt (Loved)
within the four walls of this private room
we are in together here,
is the true taste  and pieces of True reality,
and most all outside of this,
only continual extensions of 'the game'.
What if this right here is how life (love)
was truly meant to be experienced  and lived,

and most all other things out there..
just a well-built and contrived (machine) of distraction.

Let your own heart be your guide.  
You can sit and play my guitars
while you unfold so beautifully (as you so well do)
right in front of me. In turn..
and through day after day
of me being there for you like that,
your beautiful war-torn mind will slowly
(and then, quickly) become renewed.

It will all be about (and for) you..
and when you have had your fill,
you can punch me in the nose
for my having a hand  in plunging you
into "the horror" of it all,
   But you truly also for the rest of your life,
   will never be the same.

You are fascinating to me in all of your brilliant-minded,
gorgeousness. You are absolutely beautiful, kid.

This is what is truly real.  This.

What is inside?
Something I do not know
Building in my veins
Will it help me grow?

I come across a wall
And moving to the side
I see another obstacle
That I can’t reveal or hide

I turn to my left,
Then right and around
I see my mirrored self
She doesn’t make a sound

Too long she’s been standing
Waiting to take control
And find that ***** girl
That some ******* stole

She is fierce and fantastic
Wanting to explore
Taking any sensation
To become a slutty *****

That ******* didn’t ****** you
I heard myself say
You’re a **** hungry woman
But are you ready to play?

I thought I was prepared
For ******* and the feast
Though I’m scared to show the world
The carefully hidden beast

Pressured stirring mounts
Like an ******* ***** fever
It is time for slutabration
And unhinge to receive her

--And,

After picking her beautiful
jaw  up, off the ground
over the shock-blast of  realizing
that  she (after all of these years)
   had been  finally seen..

there was a shuffling  noise
that I could hear in the background
over the phone..

and I couldn't tell  if it  was her--

scrambling to finish  filling out
the restraining order she started
last week

or maybe  
just  flopping around  in the dark
in her search for the block button

But perhaps..  just perhaps
she is running upstairs  to find  for herself,  
a dry pair of *******

Or better yet,  in order to
race into her room,  her clothes--
strewn,  in a wake behind her
in her overwhelming  need

to knock out  a whole series  of
wildly uncontrollable, release (s)

Strange how it is
that  far too often  these things
can go either way--
yet either way, sweet love

your beautiful jaw
will never again,  be the same

Xo

Writing poetry is an exercise
in making myself rise
from ordinary preoccupation
to enter the realm of creation.

When I share it I am revealing
thoughts, doings, and feeling,
so I need not hesitate to share
or bore those who care.

A poem might not be art
but it is a letter from my heart
more than a quick posting
or social media boasting.

So if you do not receive a sealed letter
from me in the mail, a poem is better.
It is a moment of being bold
of sharing a small slice of my soul.

Getting a poem from a poet or friend
is an honor for me and I will attend
and count it a privilege worth prizing
a noble moment of the creator’s rising.

My problem is I fear.

I hold on.

I never know when to give up.

I blindly wave my hands in front of me in hopes that I'll find a hidden door to paradise,

Althewhile I fully expect to never find something that will allow me to stop wandering.

If that wasn't enough,
I drag the locked doors that I find along the way behind me in hopes that,
one day,
they'll magically open.

Do you hurt the way I do?
Can you feel love?
Should everybody know,
how does it feel to be loved?
Can you see?
Can you see all the hatred I see?
Would you be,
would you be there for me?

All these questions,
in our heads
All these thoughts,
come flooding in
Tell me what you're feeling, yeah
Tell me what you're thinking, yeah
Let's lay our troubles down,
lets let it all out
Instead of bottling it up
And carrying it around.

Do you feel?
Do you feel the frustration?
Are you sick?
Are you sick of straining?
Does your energy,
Does your energy feel like it's draining?
What are people saying?
Are they saying you are
taking everything in vein?
(MMMM)
Tell me everything,
Tell me all that's on your mind.

All these questions,
in our heads
All these thoughts,
come flooding in
Tell me what you're feeling, yeah
Tell me what you're thinking, yeah
Let's lay our troubles down,
lets let it all out
Instead of bottling it up
And carrying it around.

Do your thoughts,
do your thoughts keep you awake real late?
Tell me is there,
is there a solution for what you're feeling, yeah
(MMMM)
Can you see?
Can you see there are people
who want to be there
Can you trust?
Can you trust in another person's love?
Can you confide?
Can you confide in another person's heart?
Do you know,
do you know there's someone to help you out there, yeah

All these questions,
in our heads
All these thoughts,
come flooding in
Tell me what you're feeling, yeah
Tell me what you're thinking, yeah
Let's lay our troubles down,
lets let it all out
Instead of bottling it up
And carrying it around.

©2017 Written By Benji James