Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, writing

The patio lights twinkle, once intended

For the soft wink of Christmas lights

Now back drop the August nights.

Near a neon CN Tower and

Trinity Bellwood’s streetlight.


We fight the fight

Everyone wants a piece of the cake.

In the end we rub the wounds from our knees,

Maybe dessert should come first.

We flee from the table.

Flinging wooden chairs,

Twinkling silverware moon rays.


Tonight there’s blood on the moon,

And the news rattles on about swine flu,

There’s connoisseurs tasting myriads of brews,

And then there is you,

And then there is me,

And then there is the world we see.

Don’t despair,

I’m sure the sun will come up

Not every wink is corrupt.


It was easy as

One, Two, Three, Seven

And it terrified them.

Witness to those before,

How children view love spattered gore.

You cannot become what you fear.

I’m not afraid.


They pour into a myriad of

Teeth and neck.

Connection is but a fleck

Like the stars in the sky.

Shut out by smog

And the steady crank of electricity.

The lens refracts light into a ROYGBIV prison,

Emotion classified by the color spectrum.


Let’s continue where we left off.


2 thoughts on “BJ&K#7

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