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"ditmars" poems
lightning never sees its fire burning the trees absent and forlorn as love can be. I can feel your thunder on the mountainside. we will tame the ashes, fan the flames, and the pray the sky returns to calm forgetful sleep. © Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
Lightning Burning
illusions of escape velocity for us became placebos like a gentle darkness gumshoes into disarray. © Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 2:11 PM UTC
Illusions
Remember, you are still alive and live for every moment we can't change. Remember, love, remember that we are the change. ©Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
We Are the Change
I fade a little more I don’t want to disappear But some of us are special And some can’t belong. There are thoughts burned in my head. I wonder what they’re made of I wonder if they’re real. I’ll never know the truth There isn't any truth. We’re all just misfits And we don’t belong. © Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC
Misfits
Beautiful Lies Every day and every breath we take remains a beautiful deception like the promise of black coffee or lemon seeds in tea. © Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 1:42 AM UTC
Beautiful Lies
scratch off your disease and match the dollars, instant cash from bells and cherries like the drawings of a whistle aren't symbolic or a warning for bottomless desires, buried dreams replaced by objects cheaper than a chance or step into uncertainty. © Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 1:02 AM UTC
Scratch-off
Never stand still. Move in a direction. Even if you crash or fall. Take an exit and get lost. There is something happening Inside your veins. Adrenaline, blood, and Metabolic energy Fight or flight Response toward Gravity… Spin against The earth Become your Own rotation Agitate and race. Be anything but stable. © Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC
Never Stand Still
In Memory of Carl Sagan his pale blue sense of wonder suspended in a sunbeam taught beauty in the faint sensation of our atoms put together. a legacy of dust and stars billions upon billions of stars I saw the sky and endless possibility stretch over me like broken shackles form the past and we remain the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. © Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 2:22 PM UTC
Pale Blue
rain falls like streams of our subconscious in a dream. she was no small dream but she has faded like a song. paint your dream town red. everything is just a dream. fall inside your rabbit hole and dream of cabbages and kings. scream my name - make love like it’s your dream because it’s my dream too. sweat and breathe emotions as our dreams connect we will connect and move like tides of some forgotten shore where dreams exist in layers like the sand and we can live forever. ©Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
Dreams
Dead weight Living on the edge Of burden casts a Shadow in the light For flat broke dreamers Strumming their guitars On broken strings and Poets writing as the Ink runs dry. ©Ben Ditmars 2014
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May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 3:31 AM UTC
Dead Weight
defragment your performance and collect the past like marbles rolling in the backseat of a mini-van. your hands becoming chaos as we grasped at straws and questioned nothing but our silent breathing and the stars we left behind a crease in the old bench seat where I learned your name. like marbles in the mini-van our chaos will roll on. ©Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
Defragment
3D print me into something real, impulsive and distinguished. successive layers built around a pulse and backbone. fused electrons hardwired to my brain like therapy. we are broken and the sum of our spare parts. ©Ben Ditmars 2014
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May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 1:15 AM UTC
3D Print
music hollows out an empty heart and plays its strings. © Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 11:28 PM UTC
Empty Heart
there's so much soul inside a poet that it makes me wonder how they use their bodies. ©Ben Ditmars 2014
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May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
Inside a Poet
searching for a world beyond the glass where ceilings melt into blue sky. refusing to surrender on the outside looking in. shadows speak of sacrifice like work has never failed and dreams are not an endless staircase into hell. © Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
Beyond the Glass
Almost never was what we became somewhat tired somewhat hungry somewhat vagrant huddled in the ether of our aspirations possibilities in ruins like hieroglyphics crushed into the rock our song reduced to ashes in the sand. the something that we had becoming vaguely mythical and somewhat lacking. © Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 2:10 AM UTC
Somewhat
I want to blame you and remain blameless because it’s easier to hurt than be confused or lost in your reflection like the tide without a moon brings shorter days and darker nights. we face the wild shore alone. ©Ben Ditmars 2014
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May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 2:22 AM UTC
Broken Love Poem
lifelike confessions play out like make believe your metal warms against my skin reprogramming resistance fabricated sweet talk counterfeit concern become too real and I am drawn more willingly than magnetized. © Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 1:17 AM UTC
Lifelike
Just as dusk became us lingered in the air reflections overwhelmed the substance guided by our breath. © Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Lingered Dusk
She walks in starlight Coming of age In a riptide. Her lone synth chords Reminiscent of an Open mic motel. Burning multi-layered sound We don’t fear the dark now. There’s room enough for two And Technicolor in a Hot air balloon. I can taste the comfort On another world with you. Delicate piano dodging Missiles from the ground and Candy playing on the radio Can’t sing like we can hum And feel the undertow. © Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
Surface to Air
Breathing doesn't mind the rain It takes its time Moving through your veins The chill sublime It takes its time Softer, faster as we kiss The chill sublime We are in bliss Softer, faster as we kiss Soaked by the sky We are in bliss I hear you sigh Soaked by the sky Your lips cry out I hear you sigh Releasing doubt Your lips cry out Moving through your veins Releasing doubt Breathing doesn't mind the rain. © Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
Don't Mind the Rain
The world just wasn't made for dreamers... who live in some lost place between the present and reality where words are currency and thoughts buy bread. stolen kisses last forever in the porch light. ©Ben Ditmars 2014
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May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 3:22 PM UTC
Some Lost Place
we tell ourselves that comedy is tragedy plus time but we don't have the time or patience for perspective. there's only tragedy, the walls are caving in, and laughter left us with the breeze like salt poured down our open wounds hiding from the air and breathing flames. take my hand, there's nothing but the waves. © Ben Ditmars 2014
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Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
Tragedy Plus Time
Don’t cry, our memories are only one reality. ©Ben Ditmars 2014
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Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
Don't Cry
when the cafe closed our hearts were broke and we spilled out slow crashing milk on a kitchen floor desperate to expand in any direction with no destination across black and white tile our fingers fumbled anxiously to patch all the leaks but there were just too many that the eye could not see so naturally the flood unleashed and all of us were swept to sea all including   you and me we had begun to lose sight of reasons for holding a lover close at night my face feeling safe in the nook of your neck our bodies melting as we slept now both of us stand with shrugging hands when interrogation comes bursting into our brains and throws its coat on the floor yelling for what did you do this? for what was it all for? and the days where we passed on buses and bikes have been all used up i can't plan a time or a date now to see you stroll up ditmars chalk full of confidence with your hands like fireworks bite marks and blood at your nails don't you remember how easy that was? when you'd come over and roll blunts on a magazine and i'd never let you sit too close to me but was always willing to flash enough thigh just to keep you guessing i was your goal, and you were my friend and everyone here knows how a goal really ends it's right back to being disappointed again now i watch the back of your black winter coat as you turn down the moonlit alley caught dead center between your place and the cafe where i hear the voices of our friends still echo day to day with green bottles in happy fists guitars on backs snow on the ground light in their eyes eveytime i walk by there's cheers for your name the neighbors are  gonna call the cops again the yellow booth in the back where we get snapped at for laughing too loud too drunk on wine too proud of  ourselves and its fine in retrospect we were allowed now the windows are bare and a green light dimly lit still sits on the brick glowing reasonlessly a beacon in the dark for those of us looking and i saw them remove the sign the other day now i hear there's gonna be a new cafe i'll have to stomach the mediocrity every time i go by i'll have to learn to keep my head straight and not turn to look down that drive and we'll have to keep laughing and we'll have to keep trying though the ashes have scattered ill keep the memory alive
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Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 5:41 PM UTC
death of the waltz
when the cafe closed our hearts were broke and we spilled out slow crashing milk on a kitchen floor desperate to expand in any direction with no destination across black and white tile our fingers fumbled anxiously to patch all the leaks but there were just too many that the eye could not see so naturally the flood unleashed and all of us were swept to sea all including   you and me we had begun to lose sight of reasons for holding a lover close at night my face feeling safe in the nook of your neck our bodies melting as we slept now both of us stand with shrugging hands when interrogation comes bursting into our brains and throws its coat on the floor yelling for what did you do this? for what was it all for? and the days where we passed on buses and bikes have been all used up i can't plan a time or a date now to see you stroll up ditmars chalk full of confidence with your hands like fireworks bite marks and blood at your nails don't you remember how easy that was? when you'd come over and roll blunts on a magazine and i'd never let you sit too close to me but was always willing to flash enough thigh just to keep you guessing i was your goal, and you were my friend and everyone here knows how a goal really ends it's right back to being disappointed again now i watch the back of your black winter coat as you turn down the moonlit alley caught dead center between your place and the cafe where i hear the voices of our friends still echo day to day with green bottles in happy fists guitars on backs snow on the ground light in their eyes eveytime i walk by there's cheers for your name the neighbors are  gonna call the cops again the yellow booth in the back where we get snapped at for laughing too loud too drunk on wine too proud of  ourselves and its fine in retrospect we were allowed now the windows are bare and a green light dimly lit still sits on the brick glowing reasonlessly a beacon in the dark for those of us looking and i saw them remove the sign the other day now i hear there's gonna be a new cafe i'll have to stomach the mediocrity every time i go by i'll have to learn to keep my head straight and not turn to look down that drive and we'll have to keep laughing and we'll have to keep trying though the ashes have scattered ill keep the memory alive
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