Author Archives: Ben Naga
A true friend then
Is not that coward
Who’s too fearful
To risk your anger
Yet brave enough
To bitch about you
To other people
In your absence
It took you years
To recognise this
But the other kind
Don’t even notice
A college professor of English sent the following to his students, who were training to become writers:
“Before releasing anything you produce into the world make sure that you carefully smell check it first.”
NOT A CAR BUT A VISION
Antara her name she told me.
Sanskrit, with a literal meaning:
“In the middle; in between; within”.
Quietly manifesting this current skin
Magnificent? That and then some!
Our projections are no god
Worthy of the name
Reposted from long ago.
Unacknowledged this hawk-eyed underlife;
unseen, hovering soundlessly above,
observes our attempts to communicate.
Bars and then spaces, spaces and then bars;
words and then spaces, spaces and then words.
Music, conversation in the early dawn.
My words cut glass, a trigonometry.
Yours a slice of reality TV.
Cutting edge music this, fraught with discord.
Words enfold mirrored worlds; space echoes space.
Uncharted, the space within the worlds;
chimeric, the worlds within the spaces.
You twitter from inside, captive songbird.
I twitter from outside, locked out, exiled,
feeding this bonfire of words to keep warm,
maybe finding among these words refuge,
sanctuary, a hiding place. And then
some note peeps deep within that melody,
tingles in my ear, tiptoes warily
into the light: the song of the phoenix;
lightning bolt sending a shiver up the spine.
The unwatched cauldron at last boils over
revealing us to be understudies,
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I grew up amidst plenty, Depression-era
lack transformed into expensive Japanese
silk paintings hung above a cut glass table,
black lacquer chairs, raw silk seats reserved
for holidays unfit for seven children, dreams
of people I never really knew, though
they precipitated my life;
I might have preferred distressed plank flooring
and a wood-fired oven over cork and carpet
and all the confusion, byproducts of too much
striving and not enough stillness;
motivations well understood by me now,
having thrown myself into enough fires
to acknowledge and amend miscues, misdeeds;
Like Arjuna in the Baghavad Gita,
many have have beheld the face of divinity
as it exists in all creatures and life forms
everywhere, whether perceived as good or bad;
I, too, tremble at the feet of this knowing.