A quirky little poem, I think. It was an exercise in which we had to focus on one object and write about it. Didn’t have to be something immediately visible, but something we could clearly remember and picture in our minds. I chose a strange little flowerpot that used to live in the front room of my uncle’s house.

Centerpiece

Yellow roses in a line

Tip to tail, course to fine

At the zenith of blooming time

Lemon blending into lime.

On the table, there they stay

Beauty held for just one day

But time the roses do betray

They wither, and then fade away.

Yet another poem based on an old dream I had. I woke up, reached over, somehow managed to find paper and a pencil in my sleep drunkenness, and scrawled it down. It hasn’t been edited once after that one time. I don’t necessarily understand it myself, as many times as I’ve read over it and thought of how it compares to the dream. It’s one of a few things I’ve written that somehow feels like it wasn’t myself who wrote it, oddly enough. It implies the barest framework of a narrative which can only be guessed at. | The last stanza lacks punctuation, which annoys me to no end, but for some reason I’m almost scared to add any into it.

Interim

Sunlight played across sand dunes

as the ocean smacked the packed sand.

The sun was dying, and it hurt our eyes

if we weren’t careful.

A seagull cried loneliness

as it wheeled above us, hoping for a meal,

but we had no food, no anything.

We came separately, and met somehow

and together we looked out on the grey-blue water

I was waiting for the sun to set

and you waited for the moon to rise

This was intended to be a song in Japanese, however I never finished writing the melody and never got around to perfecting the romaji lyrics. This is the original English version of the lyric…kind of inspired by the styles of a few Japanese songs that I like, among them the song “Suteki Da Ne” from Final Fantasy X. | Parts of it kind of annoy me as far as the way they flow, but when translated it’s not like you can tell the difference :3

Secret

I want to find the secret -

The words, the keys that are hidden from me.

The future is bright,

But only when I’m with you.

You’re always with me,

Waking and sleeping,

Through rain, snow and sunshine.

But now, I need you -

Why am I so far away?

When you are with me, I am home.

“Lost opportunities,” “Broken dreams,”

These words are meaningless with you by my side.

You are my lover and companion,

My guiding force through every storm.

I want to find the secret -

The words, the keys that are hidden from me.

The future is bright,

But only when I’m with you.

We are two pieces of a whole;

Separated, we are broken and lonely.

I hear you crying on the phone,

And tears form in my eyes.

Why are you so dear to me?

When I chase down my dreams,

I am happy, because you are beside me.

But when my dreams take me from you,

What do I choose?

My love – or my life?

I think you are the secret -

The way you make my heart swell up.

The world is brighter

Every time you smile.

I’m sure you are the secret -

The gentle end to my heart’s path.

I looked inside myself

And found you waiting.

I’ll always be whole -

Though I may travel and roam the world,

I remember your smile

And I am home.

Not sure what to say about this one…so I guess I’ll just post it, then.

Harsh

She was in a strange way.

The world was not meant

for such harsh abuse;

having its skin peeled away

to reveal its steaming inner workings.

And she did not want to have the world

bared in such a manner;

She was raised better than that.

Oh, what would mother say

if she saw her little girl now?

Staring at the unveiled webs of deception

that only she could see.

I’ve developed a recent habit of titling my untitled works by adapting the first line of said work in quotations. Kinda stole it from Emily Dickinson. So sue me. | This is another quite old work I dug up recently. I found a store of my old binders and notebooks a little while ago, and I’ve been sifting through them, discarding the dirt and finding the not-so-hideous little gemstones. Not necessarily worth anything, but I like them nonetheless.

“She heard black holes”

She heard black holes

Seduced all that came near, then

Drew them in and stretched them apart,

Always pulling to its center

She always wondered

If those stars devoured by

That yawning darkness

Were ever in pain

She felt his gaze catch on her

And realized it couldn’t hurt -

They scooped out the feeling

Before taking the body

a spark flies and catches a flame
the wind picks up and carries you away
before anything else your head is buried in shame
“no one is there”, the price you will pay

the life you threw yourself into
to learn what you thought you needed to learn
plans have failed, what are you going to do
the smell of burning flesh and bridges to burn

youve taken everything they had to give
and dive back into your hole and hide in shame
far worse than any dream now you live
everything youve given to play your game

Foggy broken glass scattered throughout
and nothing to share
blistered thumbs the route leads to hell no dought
you start to wonder is this “to much to bear”

Youve driven everybody away. They dont care anymore what happens to you. What have you done?
You just wanted to see where it would lead, what kind of lessons could you learn. Your kite is coming down,
crashing down to never fly again. What did you think, gravity wouldnt put you in check? Im going to come
for you, slam you down for all the people youve hurt. Im angry and Im coming!!

With all my fury i come at you with love. To pick you up dust you off and point you in the correct direction, but the choice remains your own. I’m giving you my hand the choice is yours shall you take it… or not.

“Teach the world to pray, for i now know what it means to” – this quote was the last words of a major war crime criminal, one of the leaders of the internment camp in northern Germany. Before he hung he uttered these words to his wife for his kids. It reminds me how lucky I am to have something to believe in, (shaking my head) wheather it be 100% true or not it doesnt matter, faith fills all the holes in. The gift of Hope is our most valuable asset. How truely dark and lonely can a life be without it. (laughs) That is somewhere even I dont want to test. The TRUE PURE Hell is not a joke, its more than what you thought you may have been through. Dont let what you have allready seen in your life replace somewhere that is infinatly worse! Please.

Ben Kiesov

If you’ve ever been outside an airport near dawn, you’ll understand. If not, make a point of trying it sometime. It’s an interesting place to think in the wee hours of the morning. Though I do think the larger airports are preferable for it.

“Fly Away Free”

Outside, it is

inky black

as roads and lights

all hold their

breath; everywhere

the behemoth stirs,

stretching layers

of metal

and stone.

Artificial lights brighten

with the growing buzz

of action,

workers moving and bustling,

preparing for the coming wave.

Soon, people will

pour in, heavy and weighted,

before they

fly away free

into the air’s

graceful arms.

I, too, hold my breath,

I, too, am waiting,

until my silvery bird

comes to lift me from this

dark metal

cage, my momentum

growing with the

dawn before

I am

released -

Like a feather

into the sky,

leaping clear

of all my burdens.

Something based from a day I spent recalling memories of all the people I’ve ever missed; people who died, or who moved, or who just seemed to drift away into the abyss of their own lives…one way or another, they were no longer with me.

“Call”

I am so full of affection

for people no longer here.

They fell through my hands

like rainwater,

like snow petals,

like shattered glass.

In my mind I cradle them.

I speak with them.

They walk with me.

I want to know their stories;

Their eyes watch mine like darkened stones.

Sometimes I call out to them

and listen to the fading echo.

Sometimes I hear a soft reply;

More often, I don’t.

Today, patience is my lone companion.

I see a figure in the distance;

I stand, I wave, I look attentive,

but they’re far off still.

Perhaps one day they’ll

move this way. I make allowances.

They’ve wandered far,

they’ll come back when they’re ready.

These glimpses are all the news I receive.

I wish them well,

I wish them luck.

I give them all my time.

I wrote this in twenty minutes flat on a car ride to Nixa. I’d just left Republic, and wasn’t going to see the person I wanted to see for quite a while…wasn’t sure they’d want to see me anyways, given the chance. And the road that I was taking to Nixa was a backroad, one that weaved up and down hills and curved through the trees and just gave the the impression of being modeled after the waves of an ocean; or at least, that’s how I saw it. It was one of those autumn days where suddenly it was freakishly cold…there was snow.

“Waves”

The frozen waves of this concrete sea

Bear me so softly away from you -

Separate, unchanging, this gentle

Broken line of dirt and rock,

Sand and stone and

How I wish we could be together!

How pointless it all seems,

This pain, this separation.

With each rise, each fall,

Each wave,

Each breath I take,

The distance grows.

You’re a little farther away,

And when will I find you

Again? Tell me -

Why does this

Frozen sea seem to move

So swiftly? How will you

Remember me, once I am

Gone? Or

Will you simply slip back into

Dreams of shattered nights

And twilight, waking

Memories of days you’ve

Yet to spend? If I come

Back to you with

Years between us, will you still

Be the same? Will I fall into

Your sweet electric embrace

The same old way? Or

Will I find that

You and I have become

Disjointed, awkward, and

In the end we’ll split apart

And go

Our own ways?

But that cannot be -

For there is no path that,

In the end, does not lead

Back to you.

“Silence, Part I” was never really intended to have a second part. Around a year and a half after writing the first part, I found it and was struck by its truth, having viewed it with a fresh eye. And the second part just sort of…came into existence. My style had rather changed quite a bit, which is apparent because of the considerable stretch of time that separates the two. Somewhere in the middle, I’d started studying modern poetry, which definitely changed and affected things for me. But anyways…yeah.

“Silence, Part II”

This silence,

it tears my world apart -

More than the voice

of a premonition, the silence

is a flashing red light,

a warning in play,

the calm before a storm

and the still that follows.

As you fade, your

joys, your sorrows, your memories

blend and twist

until all that remains

is the drifting smoke

of the extinguished fire

It wanders the atmosphere,

a shadow

of what it once was,

and I scream out for that

fading shadow.

This cold,

it pierces my heart;

These shadows,

they cling to my mind -

This silence, it tears my world apart.