Author Archives: Ben Naga



Not allowed to say a word
Not allowed to make a sound
Allowed to do anything
But there are consequences




The day comes
(If you are still here)
When you look
All around
And see all those favourite
Books, discs, videos

The ace ones
You’re not done with yet
Retained to
Though if you started today
There wouldn’t be time

Vessel by Diyana Love

Double six.

The Machinery - A literary collection.

Illustration by flowsofly Illustration by flowsofly

A vessel as open as mine
To collect the drops of weighted honey-
The love I have and inherit in time.
The vase of love, emotions sweet
Correct the doubt of fear and me.

About the Author

Diyana LoveDiyana Love is temporarily a Utah based writer whom has been writing since a child. She is currently working on two novels and a poetry book for publication. Writing has always been a form of expression for her, but has recently become her passioned outlet. She is now learning to travel while away from her Vegas home, satisfying her desire to travel the world. You can find more of Diyana’s work at and

About the Illustrator

You can follow flowsofly’s amazing artwork on Instagram.

Vessel  is part of the weekly poem publications from the literary collection  The Machinery . You can submit your poetry and fiction  here.


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Better Safe Than Sorry


Wear my heart on my sleeve
Come hell or high water
I’ve learnt over the years
Better to go short sleeved


Enjoy a quiet moment.



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Noblesse Oblige


I might get a Nobel
I might get run over
Contingencies abound
Best to be prepared

Nobel Prize response:
(Modesty meets truth)
“I am no more”
(Than any other)

Tombstone requiem:
(Dream meets reality)
“I am no more”
(The tenant left)

True Name


You mined me for gold
Your pick in your hand

No don’t mind me no
Ore waste your time
For my gold is mine
And mine alone

Nominal – a loan
A nom de plume
Plucked from the air
Light as morning mist

A feathery tag
Tagged – you’re it!
Thought me caught fast
Not so fast though

Not so fast as you thought
A puff of wind blew me
Up, up and away
You cry out my name

From the still sky
Not even an echo

Mysterious Manifesto


In memoriam: Leos Janácek

A wandering madman
Mistrustful and reserved
Unrequited passion
And informal divorce

Consider this I beg
The unfinished diary
Of one who disappeared
To the house of the dead



The poor children
The poor children

And their children

And could you
Turn up the heating
As you’re passing?



She had tattoos, she said
I’d have to pay to see
But then I’m miserly
Rather squeamish besides

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