When Nature Calls

Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, writing

A poem scratches

Below the surface of consciousness.

It’s in my fellow homosapien.

Unless they share the itch;

The searchlight scans right over the sea.

Written in her ponytail and visage

When her dog shits in the packed public park.

The sun sets over a sparkling

Marvel of human engineering.

We are the center of our own universe

And it’s still embarrassing.

Concentrated on thinking

People are snickering at every display

Of pure primal instinct.


Those people over there

Puffing on tropical punch hookah.

These people over here

Copying Yoga pose.

The energy of the night

Keeps just ahead

Of how fast my pen can create prose.

I record this Friday night

While people all around me live it.

I love it.

I convert seconds to ink.

All I have to do is think.

Absorb the inevitable philosophy.

The words a byproduct of

Observed reality.


2 thoughts on “When Nature Calls

  1. Ben, I recall such creative moments when the onrush of stimulus wants its place in every poem. This poem has visceral energy. My wish for you is to want to understand less, as you render more of the indelible what-is…

    1. Yes! Trying to combat that onrush of stimulus and hammer it into a straight even line.
      Sometimes kicking and screaming.
      Thank you, I agree with the wish to understand less.

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