Ultra HD

Image Source: Flickr

I wish I could corral these thoughts
into indulgences, dig deep through
iron bars, roots of passion and
examine wordless lips held
silent by the blue mute button
on a flat screen plasma.

© Ben Ditmars 2015

Soup with Letters

Image Source: Flickr

maybe, after earth has died, words will
spill into the vacuum like an upturned bowl
of soup with letters, and somewhere,
someone will make sense of them.

© Ben Ditmars 2015

Mutant Love

“Love is a dog from hell” – Charles Bukowski

Image Source: Flickr

They say your innocence is lost
Damage, errors in your replication
Degenerate a sterile nature
But you are no less strong,
Ungodly or unrighteous;

Inheritance from sin becomes
Experience discernible
In cytoplasmic fragments
Of a stolen past where we
Adjust to amplitude and waves;
Commotion by the pillowcase.

© Ben Ditmars 2015

Bought Cheap

“I deserve hell”
I exclaimed into the bathroom mirror
Realizing my jeans were sewn
In hell and I had bought them cheap,
There are more quotes on the internet
About food than poverty, but that can’t
Change reality or books on making money
There are songs about life
But fewer about death and
That is some small consolation
As there are many more
On love than there are hate.

© Ben Ditmars 2015

Image Source: Flickr

The Things They Don’t Teach

I wrote a poem inspired by a quote from Neil Gaiman. He writes about the things they don’t teach you at school, the things they can’t teach you at all, really.

Image Source: Flickr

The Things They Don’t Teach

I made a list of things
They don’t teach you at school –

They don’t teach you how to disappear
They don’t teach you how to be alone
They don’t teach you how to dream and
Come up short. They don’t teach you
Bad things happen or that heroes
Struggle after victory and war
Continues in their minds.
They don’t teach you how to mend
A broken heart or spare someone
You love the truth. They don’t teach
You anything worth knowing.
But how could they?

© Ben Ditmars 2015

The Bell Curve

catch your breath
before we trip on words

hanging off the flip-side of
a bell curve, holding hands

fast food ain’t an island
getaway for two, but we
make milkshakes sexier
than hell.

© Ben Ditmars 2015

Image Source: Flickr

Wine Sipped Words

your wine-sipped words
asphyxiate my verse, babe,
like suicide, there’s no going
back to cold hands or a
paper ring – the rush of
sugar in a coffee shop

© Ben Ditmars 2015

Image Source: Flickr

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