Locomotive Forces

Pushed and pulled,

An internal paradox.

It filters my words and actions.

If it lets you,

Will you notice?

And understand the cause?

If I let you,

Will you promise?

Allow me a second,

To gather my thoughts from the floor.

I scattered them to make sense of it.

Begrudgingly,

I to and fro,

Slipping between them like a comet in flight.

Like leaves from a dying tree,

They dance in my slipstream.

Allow me a second,

To gather my thoughts from the floor.

I scattered them there to make sense of it.


By Ben Jones

This Is War

Poking and prodding at old wounds,

Like a dog's unattended tongue,

They infuriate themselves,

As the blood flows once more.

It showed me the truth, it showed me his soul, and I understood for the briefest moment.

Then I saw.

Tongue that cut in the roof of your mouth until it flows red with life.

Tomorrow is always a new day, unless you told it to replicate once more.

She'll dance me to death if I follow, and her words are a poison I've never tasted before. Maybe she'll allow me thirty seconds to catch my breath while I study the concept of love and warfare.


By Ben Jones

I Wrote This Looking At You But Not Really.

She spoke right at me.

Not a word she said, but beneath her was all ablaze, and in her eyes I lost time itself.

Found stories, and gestures...

Apparently.

Beyond which my mind would not let me, and thus I found myself sat opposite herself sat opposite me, and I knew at once it was me.

Not a word, she said.


By Ben Jones

Stutter

You broke.

I fell.

Fractured scenery.

Splintered mind.

I broke.

You fell.

Hyperviolet.

Scattered words.

I stand.

Sitting.

Fallen.

I broke.

I fell.


By Ben Jones

My Unborn Tapestry

The string unravels as I think upon it.

My train of thought is speeding down a path I thought impossible, hacking away at the tangled vines of my psyche like a jungle guide with a machette...

The putrid smell of old memories finds my nostrils, and I wretch for a second, but find my nerve again, and grip the string tighter.

I won't lose this everything again.

Watching myself become myself through everyone else's eyes will tear your soul apart, but your failures are your strengths and your existence a paradox, our celestial bodies intertwined with superstrings and spiderwebs of time and space all comforting and placating, and


THIS JUST DOES NOT REPLICATE WITH ITSELF.

It is merely the result of two totally independant and unrelated actions, an uncalculable formula of

consequence after

consequence after

consequence after

consequence after

consequence.


This string unravels as I think along it.


By Ben Jones

I Have No One To Blame But Myself

I waited and waited.

The rain dripped down my forehead, and the light bounced off the wet tarmac,

And I waited.

I watched the street come alive with colours and people and sights and sounds,

And I waited.

The car tyres sputtered water in my face as they talked, and the people played mime with each other in living rooms,

And I waited.

The night grew old, and the day grew new,

And I waited.

Dogs stopped to chat, tell me about their day, and cats looked quietly on,

And I waited.

I found myself, and I lost myself, and I found myself again,

And I waited.

I grew impatient and struck out at that car with that music driving through that puddle and splashing me,

And I waited.

I saw the truth in front of my very eyes,

And I waited.

I lied to myself over and over again, and began to believe myself,

And I waited.

I asked a stranger,

"Do you have some spare change?"

And he was kind enough to lend me the money.

He directed me to the phone box.

I called.

I'm still waiting.


By Ben Jones

Sleeping in the Rain

Blurred sounds come into focus,

A drumming on the window,

And tired eyelids yawn back into my head.


A grey warmth fills the room,

Like a sombre memory,

With a comfort of knowing,

It was you that experienced it.


Lie here for a moment.


Soak up this tranquility,

This utter stillness.

Like my own bubble has been made real.


Slip quietly between my dreamworld and this,

And it's like nothing could disturb me.


Glide down stairs,

The whole house still,

Relaxed.


And time slips like a gently growing pool of water,

Unstoppable, steady, slow...

Just the way I like it.


It's like someone custom made a day for me,

And tied it up with rain...


By Ben Jones

Angry for no reason at all

You all laugh,

And you only serve to stoke the fire.

Your mocking smiles are killing me in ways I dream of ending you, like a pressure on my frontal lobe.

Expanding til it covers my whole field of view, cerebral hatred spawned from instability and the inability to do anything about it.

Even your voice is irritating.

It makes my blood boil and my eyes itch, but I don't even know you...

Like a shiver in my spine I can't shift, it leaves me on edge and nervous...

And I'm angry for no reason at all.


By Ben Jones

The King Is Dethroned...

A shadow descends upon the crowd as they look on in wonder at the spectacle before them. Encrusted in jewels, their god is sacrificed by the weight of self obsession amongst his followers, and they realise too late it was they who killed him.

The purple mist shrouds the dancers on the stage, clothing them in an ethereal skin and reflecting their inner desires, but they can only see themselves, and they revel in it. It was beautiful to see, yet heart wrenching to watch, as the king was torn of his crown and his memory was thrown against the wall

tattered

torn

defiled

Yet he still believes. He still struggles.

And the crowd grow impatient, baying for blood, thirsting for slaughter;
But the silence that trails from his mouth satisfies them none at all, and he knows it.

Tattered, torn, and defiled, he stands defiant as his last breath crawls between his teeth...

An Evening In...

Slipping

quietly

between the sheets,

I find company in my solitude,
and understanding where before there was only pity.

Now I realise this is real and this has substance yet the sentences in my head remain in my head, and time

ticks

slowly

by.

I'm not gonna let it slip past me again, but I can't seem to force the syllables still glued to the inside of my skull, and I rot from the inside out watching it all unfold before my very eye.

I still can't find the words to stop this slipping like sand dunes.

I was always told perfection lasts a moment, but it's five days and counting and I couldn't wish for a better view.

By Ben Jones

He Made Me Dance

Commanding the machine like it was a puppet, before me he laid out the land I had all but envisioned and prophesised. Beyond me, he pulled on beats like they were the strings that tied the universe together, and the whole world made sense again. Beats that pulled my own strings, making me move like an epileptic in the throes of a Grande Mal... I loved every second, and in each of those seconds came the meaning of life; a second later, it meant nothing. Pull machinist, pull my strings and make me realise myself...


By Ben Jones

A Tree.

A tree.

Clean slate now. All is new.

A tree, alone in its field.

No more boundaries or inhibitions. Just a willing acceptance of the inevitable.

A tree, alone in its field, singing.

No more right or wrong. No more fear of uncertainty.

A tree, alone in its field, singing sorrow from its leaves.

I Can't See Straight

Words come out of my mouth like scrambled eggs, and my thoughts make no sense to me.

I read my future and it bored me, so I burnt the bridge and forced it down like a bitter pill, only for it to rise like a hot air balloon and now it's inside me.

I can't feel my face.

A cold sweat comes over me like a shower, tomorrow recedes like a broken wave on the shore, and I'm left surrounded by my insecurities.

Please allow me room to breathe, or I'll run like I always do, and the sunset provides shelter like no other...

Dead weight holds me against the wall, but I'll cling to it like it's the oly thing I know. I know it's futile, but I broke my back straining against it.

I wanted only to smile at you.

By Ben Jones

Journey To There

The skies are on fire and you're here,
yet it's freezing and I've never been so alone.

I dipped my hand into the waters,
just to see how warm it is,
but my reflection told me to walk away.

I wish I'd never listened,
but I couldn't take my eyes from his,
and his spell permeated every part of my being.

I walked for days...


Through field and meadow...


Over ford and stream and crook...


Until I found myself,
perched on a rock,
watching the sunset bleed into the sea.

In the glare of the dying day,
he turned to me and said;

'The skies are on fire and you're here,
yet it's freezing and I've never been so alone.'

By Ben Jones

Aware That I Might Sound Egotistical

Stomach boils like a kettle filled with acid but it won't stop me this time; I'll find it and grab it and hold it close until it won't run anymore.


Taking each step at a time so cautiously.


My insides burn as I drag myself along the trail, though my footing is becoming more and more haphazard and the pain is beginning to blind me...


I saw it through the trees to the left of me.


It radiated its own light, and I felt I was gazing upon that of ages long, long ago... And I learned as I drew closer I was right, yet wrong.


My stomach. It fell still.


It spread its silken feathers and drew its wings down to take off, and in this moment was everything, youth, age, wisdom, naivety, knowledge, ignorance, sound, light, forwards, backwards.


I was he and he myself, yet I knew I was understanding by the way he looked at me with my own eyes.


I couldn't breathe.


I took a step. It took forever. It took to the sky like a feather, caught in a gust of wind, commanded by the turbulence of my actions, and disappeared into the amber of the setting sun...


Beauty for just a moment. Just one moment.

By
Looshkin

I Missed It

I was watching,

But nothing happened.

I was listening,

But no sound was made.

I was feeling,

But nothing moved.

Yet when I drifted...

I missed it.

By Ben Jones

Blow Yourself To Pieces In Three Easy Steps

Reflections in the window show only an opaque of life as the colours distort and the blue of the sun tints the world melancholy.

All these ants run around,

Chasing their broken dreams and patio dining sets,

While time ponders the meaning of it all...

Spoil yourself.

Buy your MP3 player that holds 27,000 songs, your palm top computer that can even connect via satellite in the Congo, your £1500 sofa set with matching throws and curtains.

It'll distract you for a moment,

But one day you'll remember that you're nothing special.

And then you'll realise you wasted 90% of your life collecting useless shite you don't need.

And worked 90% of your life to buy it.

And only then will you open yourself to the true beauty of disorder,

A crammed apartment of other people's dreams will be your eulogy.



By Ben Jones

Another One Of Those Days...

Truly beautiful it was,

Like stars in the night sky.

We danced a dance like none had ever seen,

Lit up by the Northern Lights.

People stopped, stared, wondered,

As the dance grew more divine,

And we lost ourselves in each other's eyes.

As black gave way to purple gave way to blue,

The phosphorous glow grew dim,

And the dance lost it's ethereality.

But does that mean the glow is no longer there?

No, just waiting for the right time to shine.

Though there are others,

Brighter, more vivid stars,

They burn not one iota of what I do,

For her. For us.

But like Moths to a candle,

Everybody needs to get burnt.

In the encroaching dawn,

We realised everything.

But only too late.

We danced,

A beautiful dance.

By Ben Jones

A Short Piece On Other People

Yap yap yap.

Yap yap yap yap.

Yap yap.

Yap yap yap yap yap yap.

Yap yap yap yap yap yap yap yap yap.

Yap.

Yapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyap
yapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyap
yapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyap
yapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyap
yapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyap
yapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyap



SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!

*silence...*

(yeah, I wish)



by
Looshkin