"benson" poems
The rigger journeyman was city bred,
But Cumberland was in his bones,
He saw the hills above the doors,
He saw the fells above the roofs
And when the great pain came,
His eyes belonged to them again.
By Ruskin Street he stopped to choke
At forty six, his wife beside,
My father's line revealed to me,
A farming, rigging family tree.
His place of death recorded so,
Not 'in' or 'at' but 'by' they wrote,
Impressionistic, vague, but true,
Or careless hand for riggers, who
In city great of small account
By Ruskin Street,
Out for the count...
The journey ends
And Benson, male,
No sails will mend.
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 8:04 PM UTC
Slashers Defined
In response to my piece, Slashers, it was requested that maybe I could
reveal at least which band or other info these great guitar players performed for to gain their claim to fame. I don't want to spend too much
time on this defintion, but will give what info I think is pertinent. If you do not know some of the names I have presented to you, and you are a blues,
rock, jazz, fusion guitar fan, I suggest you take the time to listen to some of their work. I have included some of my favorite incredible fusion players that do not have a super star following, but are renowned in their group of fans, probably mostly musicians to some degree.
If you are a frustrated guitar player like I am, do not listen to the likes of Holdsworth, Johnson, Gambale, or Morse unless you love being tortured.
Anyway on with the show.
Eric Clapton – Yardbirds, Cream, Blind Faith, Derek and the Dominos.
Jimmy Page – Yardbirds, Led Zeppe, The Honeydrippers, The Firm
Jimi Hendrix – not only what is, but, what could have been
Alan Holdsworth – Solo jazz fusion player – hot
Steve Howe – Yes, Asia - Progressive rock, jazz –
Bill Nelson – BeBop Deluxe, Solo
Terry Kath – Chicago (25 or 6 to 4) – another sad early departure
Ted Nugent – Amboy Dukes, **** Yankees – The madman
Jim Krueger – Dave Mason Band – solo progressive rock
Eddy Van Halen – Van Halen
Ritchie Blackmore – Deep Purple, Rainbow
Jerry Doucette – Doucette (Mama let him play)
Eric Johnson – Solo – New Age, jazz
Frank Gambale – Australian- Jazz, fusion, rock
Goerge Benson – Jazz
Larry Carlton – Jazz, new age rock
Marc Farner - Grand Funk Railroad
Peter Frampton – Humble Pie, solo
Joe Satriani - New age – solo
Johnny A. - jazz, new age – solo
Danny Gatton – jazz, rockabilly – solo
Chet Atkins – jazz, country
John Mayer – Pop, blues – solo
Neal Schon – Journey
Steve Lukather – Toto
Masyoshi Takanaka – New age, jazz – Japanese solo
Lee Ritnour – Jazz, new age – solo
Leslie West - Mountain, West Bruce & Laing
Monty Montgomery – jazz, blues (accoustic you have never heard)
Wes Montgomery – jazz 40's – 50's
Phil Keaggy – New age Christian
Robin Trower – Procul Harem
Brian May – Queen
Rick Derringer – Montrose, Edgar Winter Group, Steely Dan
Robin Ford – John Mayall, Chick Corea, solo jazz, fusion, blues
Carlos Santana – Santana
Ronnie Montrose – Montrose
Steve Morse – Dixie Dregs, Kansas, solo jazz, fusion
Trevor Rabin – Yes, solo new age
Gomer LePoet...
Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 1:19 PM UTC
Your rocking chair tip slowly back and forth,
Hair messy and wine stained lips with an all to familiar gaze.
Cold, lifeless, drained.
With your speech slurred and muffled ramblings of:
"Can you bring your dad back?"
We did our best to carry you inside and give you the same care and love that only he could provide.
As you stumble aimlessly around the bathroom floor tuning out the please of your children to simply get up,
What is left of my heart is swept away like sand beneath the tides.
Hours pass, torn apart novels, tipped over tables, and a paper bag tossed into the woods containing every pill and packet of Benson and Hedges in sight,
You finally rest.
Your breathing raspy with the occasional mutter of words and sudden cries of agony and sorrow,
I hear you utter his name.
Those seven letters that still send chills down my spine,
The failed excuse of a replacement for the man that I once knew.
I reassured you it was only me in your bed,
Not the monster who pushed you over the edge.
-C h a r l i e
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 4:37 PM UTC
Oh I wonder if I mean pounding
Or maybe it's pondering
Hell what do I know, spelling isn't my strong point
I've always been envious of all those brainy lot
To see me you'll know why I can never be an alfa male
So its better I hide behind a keyboard and troll
I can't help feeling inadequate when I read the good poems
All I do is steal words and ideas then twist them around
I pownd and pownd and pownd till I drive them away
I am a Pownder that pownd and get a pound for every pownding
I am a little person with a little mind and something else bothers me so much it leaves me with a Napoleonic complex
But I hope other men don't know about it but anytime I see a hot dog, wish I could just disappear and die cause I know that's one pownding That leaves me unpownded.
Excuse me I got a job to do
There's a poet here, I've got to drive him away from here
He's Benson or something like that and I just feel so small
Can never write like him and being a stinking bully and a Hater
I feel so inadequate and it's stressing me out, how good he is
He leaves me feeling so carri gibbanoius and useless pownding about
My job and aim is to oppose anything positive and good
I was born to destroy cause I can't do better
guess that's why I can't even spell an ordinary word like
POUNDING....
That benson fellow will soon leave and coward inadequate me
will rule with my mediocre drivel again or go copy from someone
and pretend its my work like I did at Junior High and college.
My good friend below wrote this to me:
Karijinbba › In His Grace..............
I hear the pownding waves of God in every day or written silences. I hear Gods loving waves in everyday's life's harships and struggles; even when God in his silence blessess, me in imagined lovers arms, and in dreams, when my breath away.....is taken.
He copied a poem written by me and improved on it and then
posted it back to me to show me how to improve on my work.
So I must learn from him and be a better writer
And stop feeling bad and envious about other people's poems
And writing privately to them to intimidate them and making
them quitting this site.
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 6:25 PM UTC
You were my brother.
My first best friend I could trust.
She told my secrets, I couldn't trust her.
I could trust you,
have fun with you,
be smart and nerdy with you.
I loved you.
I told you how I felt.
You told me how you felt.
Miscommunication and a bird talking in my ear
ruined us
I lashed out at you, you apologized.
Why didn't I realize?
Yes, you are my best friend. I'm sorry. Don't leave now.
You didn't leave.
High School
You barely speak to me.
I am now uncool.
You are above me.
You mock me to your friends behind my back.
I convince myself that you would never....
I loved you.... you wouldn't.... would you?
Senior Year
Your best friend mocks me
cyberbullies me
nearly kills me by my own self-inflicting hand.
But what is this?
You could have stopped him
But I wasn't worth your pride.
You couldn't tell him no.
So I nearly gave up my life
Out of self loathing.
You were my brother.
I loved you.
You wanted to love me.
Why did you do this.
**** you Benson. I have no brother. And no love for you.
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 2:31 AM UTC
they ask me what makes me think of you
and i can't really say because
rain makes me miss you
and books do too
i miss you when i'm writing
and when i'm crying
benson boone
dark blue
the shining moon
all make me think of you
reading gives me that feeling
and so does that sweater
so i guess there's no healing
guess you're stuck with me forever
Nov 30, 2024
Nov 30, 2024 at 2:11 AM UTC
He had the voice you see,
the timing and the just pause.
He knew how to colour and stretch
a word, just so.
He wrote quiet rhymes:
I’m a winder
(he wrote,
writing as a river).
I love to wander.
Every day I’m different
with stories to tell
of wild otter huntings
and crisp frozen winters.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
I saw this War Veteran on his porch yelling at this Hipster Kid who was tethered to his fence across the generational gapped front lawn, yelling back at him. And I mean, they got into it.
The kid wasn't doing anything really, just taking alternate swigs of foamy PBR and flat Red Bull and chucking the cans into the vet's unkempt garden, retorting Dylan lyrics and sentiments of Kerouac like the post-modern beatnik he was.
I couldn't make out what the Old Vet was saying. His voice was missing from probably smoking too many Benson & Hedges Black down in the trenches. I know he must have been saying something uncalled for, though, to get this Kid so riled up like that.
I'm not sure what they were arguing about since I awoke right in the middle of this altercation, hanging upside down on a bench in the park across the street. I suppose I'll just wait until the Vet goes back inside so I can go over and release the Kid and ask him what that was all about.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
Listening to Dave Grusin,
"Mountain Dance," vintage 1979.
The thought strikes:
"Why is it that only the
Early Jazz Giants are deified?
Of course, we need Chet Baker and
Miles Davis in our pantheon, &
Gerry Mulligan & Charlie Parker
Not to mention (cue Soupy Sales:
"Smack. I told you not to mention that!")
Coltrane or Stan Getz.
And yet, we're all getting long teeth and
there's a lot more Smooth Jazz to come,
Post-1950s, take Grusin, for example, or
George Benson or Herbie Hancock, and
What about Earl Klugh & Larry Carlton?
Let's not forget Spyro Gira &
The Daves: Benoit and Koz.
And we would be remiss
To miss Chris, young Chris,
Chris - "The Whippersnapper" - Botti.
But I digress.
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 9:25 PM UTC
oh **** you sent me those chills again today
that one song knows how to bring it all back
and i knew exactly what to do
indulge, indulge, devour what i could
sweep up these teary eye diamonds
no questions---who am i kidding
a million questions all across the grid
it's magical, and i refuse to let it go
nothing is remotely relevant like you
i give you credit for breaking my heart
trashing it with euphoric bursts
your name, full of weight on my tongue
prestigious, if only to these uninvited thoughts
but i welcome them in, cordially and whole heartedly
maybe, since then, i was disposable after some time
**** i'm that kodak, thrown in the back of the drawer
i'll suffer with those oh so familiar montages of photos
treasure that innocent film we made
i'll always pause at your smile---
banged up, reminded of you
can't help the feeling of today
brutally graced into submission
we were imperfection held by conviction
that...that i still love
our relationship was dolled up for a date
held by hairspray, that'd unravel every night
colored by lipstick, that'd fade after one too many kisses
darkened by eyeliner, that'd turn the normal into mysterious
crafted by mascara, that'd run at the first sight of tears
tyrannize, patronize, calcify my broken heart...
don't hold back, instead, enable me---
enable me, and my broken heart
send me those chills every so often
i need to be reminded of you
i'm addicted to yesterday
and you underestimate the things that i will do
search for those benson and hedges
craddle that bitter coffee
moving closer towards the edge
suffer again and again
i'm hopeless
a hopeless romantic...
and i give you credit for breaking my heart.
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 6:07 PM UTC
Surrounded by senseless rambling,
pathetic routine used to disguise shambolic life.
Welcome to shaking hands
and a pack a day chased by a bottle of white ***
an unspoken pathos.
Benson hedges,
half baked moonlight.
Wincing every ****** word,
wondering what you'd done to deserve this.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC
I once had dreams, they wanted answers,
I once asked questions, I wanted answers,
For a logical mind I had to know why,
Answers were everything, I had to try.
Travel a paper trail in a digital world,
Some invisible trail in a fantasy world,
I saw people, all in a line,
I saw people, they all looked fine.
I was down so quick, I was down so far,
I was down too long, I was down too far.
There was almost exanquination,
There was little explanation.
Those long distance voices, voices of past,
Proved their worth, forever they last,
Ride to redemption,
Bittersweet race for one dog boss.
Thirty two days and most were a blur
Tube in my throat, dream people, soft edges,
Ran downhill, past lots of people, Benson wouldn’t let me back in,
They were real – in my dream.
I find it harder to swallow, easier to chew,
If Benson were here she’d know what to do.
I find it harder to choose, easier to see,
If Benson were here she’d know you from me.
I find it harder to write, easier to cry,
If Benson were here she’d know why,
Ride to redemption,
Bittersweet race for my lost soul.
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 5:38 PM UTC
My luck is running thin.
I hope my secrets are kept safe
sitting on fire escapes
smoking benson and hedges
you have always been my favorite, after all.
im continually trying to enter broken gates
i promise i never meant to fall
off of this fire escape
where shall i escape to?
to a dream-like state?
people are always talking of dreams and what they mean.
i hope your red room stays red
pommegranite tea always warmed me.
never did i think i would be here with you
making out in the weight room of a desolate hotel
i hope you never tell
of our fire escape escapades
never did i think i would be dreaming with you
again
Mar 30, 2010
Mar 30, 2010 at 12:18 AM UTC
Maximilian
From the first time your eyes met mine
I knew it was the real thing.
Your moist cheek on my pounding heart
My soul awakened to pure joy.
Six years later, you still touch my heart
Now just by standing tall, your blonde head
Full of intelligence, curiosity, wonder.
Maximilian-an amazing boy!
The future before you...be strong!
You know a lot for your years.
Loved ones die, baby brothers born
Fathers unhappy, then gone.
Illusions of perfection done,
We gaze within, eyes connect as one
Green on green,we sometimes see pain,yet
Remember: here there is only love, my Son.
Leslie Ann Benson
Copyright ©2008 Leslie Ann Benson
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 12:15 AM UTC
The doctors told her: “Leukaemia”.
More cancer? So I munched up Molly
and chain-smoked Benson
in the night club outdoor area.
The lights were stunning,.
We marched a half mile in heels
over frosted ground with knocking knees,
looking for people to please.
New Year’s Eve.
A house filled up to the brim
with big, fat eyes and dancing lovers
in a horrid estate in Sligo town.
2016 rang in, triumphantly.
I was surrounded by beautiful people
drowning in loud music
slept at 8am and dreamt of her.
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
Such beauty in her eyes
I stare her
She puts my ***** at a surpise
Uprise standing at attention
Got every brother flenchin' penchin'
My parasitic nerves
As i observe the curves word
She know shes a heartbreaker rumpshaker
Could make any go after her
Boy im telling you why women like this
Make babies cuz the ***** so delicious
I bet naw im just daydreaming
Looking for a woman who can
Take home not just use for *****
But build a team together make cream
No ******** inbetween
Truth for truth eye for eye no need to lie
Ya i aint gone lie
My attention was focuses on ya *** to thighs
But now i wanted have mental ***********
With your mind
O so fine ya sweeter than Jewish red wine
Gimme the night like G Benson
Relax this aint no drug intervention
This is me the magnificent yosef
Coming with the smooth status apparatus
Yea you dont got to be the baddest
But got to be the most intellectual
Indiviual spiritual im attracted to ya mental
Im going senile dont treat me foul
Locked away in your love
Like a penitentiary
I wont be bailin'
Im trying get to you SPT im wailin'
:-)
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 6:40 AM UTC
jak sie nie ma co sie lubi, to sie lubi, co sie ma / if you don't have what you'd like, you like, what you have.
my maternal uncle (brother
of my grandmother)
used to collect beer bottles...
now i wish
i didn't start to collect
cigarette packets...
i know, pretty much as
"nerdy" as collecting postage
stamps (you should see
my grandfather's collection...
pretty impressive...
i think he owns a yuri
gagarin special edition) -
anyway...
it came as a shock when
i was buying tobacco
at the supermarket once
upon a time (2 months ago) -
the packaging, the packaging!
it's so ugly!
you sure i'm in a supermarket
and not in a russian gulag?
marmite lungs,
coughing blood,
black and white all over
areas, all over...
they really know how
to put people out their jobs
when trying to
redesign packaging,
don't they?
luckily though... luckily!
i'm in possession of the last
of the last...
an empty packet of
benson & hedges (gold)...
that's a keeper...
i'm not giving this one
up...
i'll use whenever i have ten
remaining in
that ugly packaging,
and take it into town,
and turn into a peacock...
look'e 'ere... see,
original packaging,
dating from the year 2016...
but like with anything
you drink... esp. the whiskeys...
it's nice to read an anecdote
printed on the bottle...
the benson & hedges packet?
nothing like it is now...
in the old days
you know:
(a) sourced from premium
golden virginia tobaccos
(b) consistently rich & smooth
taste
(c) as approved by *apache chief
naked-butt-pointing-at-the-moon*
& his distant half-cousin
the *sioux chief hairdressing-wind*;
but there's also
(d) the british american
tobacco group
and there's also and address
so you can send them fan mail
(e) old bond street, london.
smoking used to be fun,
well, it still is... if you managed to keep
one of these of packets
of cigarettes...
now i wish i still had a packet
of yella' camels...
or the red marlboros,
oh well.
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 7:32 PM UTC
NOT LONG AGO
A BAD CHICK I KNOW
USED TO ROCK PICKS
IN HER AFRO
JUST TA LET YA KNOW
EVEN THOUGH
WE BROKE UP
BUT IM GROWIN CORRUPT
WITHOUT YA BY MY SIDE
SUICIDE
SEEMS LIKE THE ONLY OPTIONS
FOR MY MENTAL SATISFACTION
THERES A VOICE IN MY HEAD
TELLIN' ME
ITLL GET BETTER JUST FORGET HER
HOW CAN I EASE THE PAIN?
THAT ENDURES SURE
IT SEEMS EASY TO SAY
ARREVIDERCHI BABEY COME BACK TO ME
WE DONT HAVE TO FALL IN THE STATISTICS OF RACIAL CATERGORY
THEY WANT US TO FIGHT N FIGHT
TIL WE DESTROY EACH OTHER
GIRL
IM BEING REAL REALER THAN
HOLYFIELD
. TYSON ROUND 12 BABYGIRL
NO ***** WILL TREAT YOU BETTER
NO MATTER WHAT WE CAN ACCOMPLISH
EVERYTHING TOGETHER
DONT LET STORMY WEATHER
DRENCH US IN VAIN THE PAIN N STRAIN
IN MY BRAIN
GOT ME **** NEAR INSANE
SYMPTOMS OF PTSD WAR MAYNE
**** YA SAID YA HAD MY BACK
BUT LEFT ME LIKE A CRACK
IN A CONCRETE OPEN
SOON TO BE FILLED WITH GLOOM
THERE GOES MY DOOM
IN MY ROOM
WISHIN UPON A STAR LOOK AFAR
I SEE THE MOON GLARE OF YA BEAUTY
BABY GIVE ME THE NIGHT
LIKE G BENSON
AND TURN OFF THE LIGHTS LIKE TEDDY
N LET ME PEND YOUR ***
POP THE CORK THEN CHAMPAGNE
POUR UP THE GLASS
THEN COMMENCE TO SPARK
UP SOME HASH
BUT YA WANNA DIVORCE??
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 4:15 PM UTC
Bruce this Bruce that now everyone’s a Jenner
Well next time you yap I’m going to bruise you with my Benson burner
My darling lass always liked it rough
Until one day she came back home sounding tenor
I trembled and shook in disbelief then realized,
Oh this happened sooner
How she liked to use the rear entry and always walked in my drawers
And **** I know I’m straight but she still is a looker
If she wasn’t my **** wife I would make her my winger
Or maybe introduce her as my foreign half brother
But she not only rid herself of ******* but of me her lover
Threw me out of my hard earned manor and
Even took my side girl and sneered, that’s my pleasure.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
Ever since I discovered poetry,
I discovered the blessing of being born into poverty: My life, my struggle, my hustle, my journey is the bedrock of my strength.My story is the source of my inspiration and the caveat of my staying power.
Ever since I discovered poetry,
I discovered the mysterious ways in which God's gift to every man is dissimilated.Look at the athletic abilities of Lebron James when he plays basketball, see the prophetic gift of Bishop T D Jakes when he preaches.Look at the artistic brilliance of the jazziest, George Benson when he sings and plays guitar.And, no one alive will ever forget the musical genius of Michael Jackson and the poetic prowess of Maya Angelou.
Ever since I discovered poetry,
I discovered how God uses the foolishness of man to confirm his greatness.Every time I write a masterpiece, somebody somewhere reads it and goes" *** Wow, this is really good!"
Ever since I discovered poetry,
I discovered that God is the greatest of all poets.From Genesis to Revelation, His words
Compiled into sixty-six meticulously written books remains the bestseller of all times.
Ever since I discovered poetry
I discovered that God is love and love is blind and blindness is nothing because God blessed the blind with hidden eyes in the mind.
I discovered God gave the blind something because of the legendary Steven Wonder and the little blind Liberian boy, Samy Wefur who now sings with the Nigerian star,Flavour.
#IvanBrooksPoetry©
06/07/2018
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
The life of Robert Guillaume
A Butler with distinction
A man who turned sophistication into laughter
Dinner is served in the Main Dining Room
But if you didn’t move you would probably be told to eat before you come
Snaps upon snaps being Robert Guillaume
Where did that all come from why it was ‘BENSON” the TV Comedy series?
The show aired on ABC-TV
It lasted for Seven Years from 1979-1986
But besides Benson, Robert Guillaume also did several skits of other television shows such as playing a Homeless Man named “HAMBONE” on “GOOD TIMES” Family Comedy TV Series
It aired on CBS
Robert Guillaume was gifted in talent gaining proclaim in acting experience
A man who lived to be 89 Years Old
But it is Heaven establishing a behold
Robert Guillaume is his own story ever told
He is now free
Heaven is his spotlight
A musical song in my mine comes to mine “HEAVEN I YOND”
I knew Heaven is where I belong
Robert Guillaume saw and accomplished
Thanks for the elegance in guiding us TV fans within the Mansion
Your name having honor in the mention
Sleep well
Your Acting experience we all can tell
You brought inspiration that was swell
But you lived your life in an upbeat note
We don’t even have to cast a vote
But part of you was no joke
Your life in which you never gave up
But Heaven knew it was time for you to be lifted up
This is not an end, but inspiration you left us in letting hope begin.
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 10:33 AM UTC