OWED.

OWED.

By Ben Charles

    I am owed happiness.

Says who?

                                                                 I am owed love. 

Says who?

                                                                                    I am owed sex. 

Says who?

                                                                          I am owed L I F E.

Says who?

The rolling rock gathers moss,
mankind resentfully collects and counts her cost,
while mothers weep and mourn her loss.
Divine demiurge or celestial chance,
depending on who you ask,
gathered us all here to today.
Either impossible odds or omniscient god
They gave us everything and nothing.
Gave us the night, gave us the day.
Odds of fractions to the trillions
Gave us bare feet on the grass,
gave us love shortlived, lifelong and past.

Is this owed to the simians?

Perhaps,
Every existence per hapless sap,
Spits in the face of reason,
We’re God’s Laws’ treason
searching El Dorado without a map.

So here we are.
What’s left to do?
We demand more, we demand respect.
We need a better nose, we’re owed a newer car.
I am owed an expensive vacation if not 2 or 3 on a yearly basis
I am owed paper featuring dead men’s faces.
I am owed all this, plus a wife and a bigger house than you.

I am owed.

 

I am owned.

Goodbye, Copper

Hello, readers.

Thanks again for viewing my work and all of the likes and great comments I’ve had on it so far. I will be adding a new, exciting portion to this blog that I hope all of you enjoy, as well.

But right now I want to share something a little sad. Recently, my parents had to put their dog down. He was a beautiful coonhound/bloodhound mix and a super affectionate, loving dog. Unfortunately, he was also an anxious and scared dog, which caused him to bite people unexpectedly, myself included. I was incredibly sad not only for his loss but also for the loss of all of the joy and companionship that he gave my parents, who now live alone. I hope that you enjoy this poem, and I hope it expresses how I feel adequately. My plan is to revise and edit this in the future but knew it was important to get my feelings out.

Thank you,

Ben Charles

 

Goodbye, Copper

by Ben Charles

I remember the day I first saw you
peeking to the open fields on my iPhone screen.
You were in my father’s arms, full of wonder, content in his plaid jacket.
You were mischievous and devious and new to life,
impatient to unravel the mysteries of all you could see.

Tiny and nimble, you tore the world asunder.
You had new friends to make, new foods to eat and a coffee can that always needed a thrashing.
You were sweet, you gave love and were loved to bits, even when you spazzed and threw fits.

“Cute little bastard, isn’t he?” My brother asked at the Christmas party.
He was right, but you cared hardly.
You had a village of a family, a belly full of junk, and a heart full of joy.
My eldest brother mourns you the most, you were his entire world.
I smile remembering the days he’d bring you fast food and toys,
you had him wrapped around your paw, he knew it and he didn’t care.
He told me he has nothing to look forward to at home, now that you’re not there.

I wish I could have saved you, and please know that I tried.
I wish I could have told you how serious biting is, that you could understand.
The seeds of doubt were planted when you bit my hand.
Then you bit the drunkard and my mother cried.

Anxious and afraid, you chased ghosts and delusions.
While the townspeople whispered rumours, theories and illusions.
Some were true, most were false.
I loved how happy my parents were to have you,
their decision was not on impulse.

Do not be anxious, do not be afraid of where you lie.
When my mother went through with it, she cried and she cried.
I will always remember you, Copper. You left imprints in my heart and on my hand.
I hope that you find the peace that you never had in life.
I hope that is an end to your suffering and strife.

Goodbye, Copper.

IMG_0294

Word Porn

Cheap, mass-produced poetry.
McWords, Walt Whitman-Mart.
Pseudo-deep Hallmark,
complete with a brand and a watermark.
Peddled on the internet for free
To inspire, be shared, and to see
the depths of friends’ intelligence
and the limit of acquaintance patience.
No love, no thought, no care.
Words in arrangement that are just kind of there.
Inspire the masses to join your fitness classes
Or tell your friends that they’re beautiful,
but you have one more spot left to do their eyebrows,
your schedule is full.
Mind-numbing,  addictive shit.
A path to forget,
how to express the soul. Give it to a brand, spiritual advertising space.
Shameful and celebrated, thieves of dignity.
Stolen fame, fake names. Emotions out of context and quotes out of place.
The more and more I see on my feed
of a Marilyn Monroe quote, or a RELATABLE post pandering to a basic human need,
I curse and I scorn.
But I give them credit where it’s due,
for if you’re a writer they won’t do it for you,
at least the name is apt on the death of literature we mourn,
For it is truly Word Porn.

I Just Need A Day

I just need a day,
I always say,
As another one passes by,
And my deadlines become nigh.

I just need another hour,
I’ll do it after I cook something and maybe take a shower.
As another one passes by,
And my anxieties become high.

Just gimme a minute,
I say not realizing my time is finite
As another one passes by,
My girlfriend and the universe sighs.

Can you just gimme a second?
Time is infinite and yet there is none.
As another one passes by,
The hopes of completion surely die.

Can I have a moment?
I need to relax, I have too much stress. I need a chance to unwind, to get unbent.
As another one passes by,
So I take out another high-interest loan on borrowed time.

Home Away From Home (I Love You, Man)

Warm lights glow, warm friendships grow.

This is home.

Spent all day invisible, I spent all day on my phone.
As a nobody to everybody.

But not here.

Here, your entrance elicits a standing ovation.
Hoots, hollers, and laughter fill the room on your arrival,
Here, all of your words fall on intent ears and sincere consideration.
It’s warm lights, warm people, and chilled beer,
It makes it all worthwhile, it’s an episode of ‘Cheers’.

Here,
All pretention is gone, nothing or no one is better in another’s eyes.
You can lower your shield, shed your disguise.
Life is pretty damn good as a barfly.

Come, all ye desk jockeys, scholars, rig pigs, hillbillies, the old and the young.
Come, here we are legion, here we are one.
No one’s too good for anyone, nor is one too classless to be here.
Hell, it’s not even cliché to my fellow patrons that twice I rhymed “Beers” with “Cheers”.

You can have a seat, get away from the grand workings of the world
That you’re too tired to understand
Not that you care, as you’re not part of the plan.

But here, on elbow floors of oak, you are king, jester and knight.

In great halls, in stoic stalls,
In the land of marble, basins, and waterfalls
Friday philosophers clash wits, anecdotes, and intellect.
On all matters of utmost importance
In life, death, religion, and politics
Clear messages of heated passion battle through slurred speech, twisted tongue, hiccups
-and interruption.

But here,
It’s all in fun, it’s to stimulate the mind
To explore new ideas, or just pass the time.
We’re all speakin’ the truth, with just the right amount of uncited sources,
And just the right amount of lies.

We may not agree but respect our loud, distorted discourse.
And just love the company, love to be heard.