Forest, Fire, Page.

Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, writing

I drag dry, dead frames

From a forest of Pine.

Weave a nest from

Thin branch to thick.

The fire builds quick,

Calling to be stoked.

Growing with greed.

Without abandon I feed,

Winking autumn coals

Keeps away mosquitos.

The peepers sound like a solid wall,

The stars are yet to break.

I have nothing but time and ink.

A thin smoke chord signals

Perpendicular lines of word.

The fire holds a solid glow

Pushing at shadow

Allowing the pen to flow.

Ember plagued by explosion

Send fireflies immolating.

They wink once then turn to feather.

Ash carried by the breeze

Thought captured by the page.


A Quick Hike

poems, poetry, writing

The wind through

The falling autumn leaves

The trees

Shaking their fists at the sky

Sounds like the Ocean’s tide

I look through

A slotted canopy

Ahead of me

The blue sky sparkles

Mind the roots and pine needles

I clamber with bugs

Around the shrubs

Climb over wooden bridges

Built from slices of environment

So obviously a manmade arrangement

Over dried dams, ravines, and fern trees

I wander to discover me.

The Garden of Living Flowers: Pg.4

Benjamin Jenkins, Screenplay, Script, Short Stories, The Garden of Living Flowers, writing


Zach walks into a well lit kitchen. There are people drinking and playing party games. The music is louder in this room. He moves to the refrigerator. There are magnets on the fridge that spell out AMNESIA in different colors.

Zach yanks the refrigerator open and is greeted by a packed fridge of food and drink. He screams in frustration and begins pulling different items out of the fridge to make room for his drink.

He piles a 2-liter of coke, eggs, a pitcher of lemonade and some carrots on the counter. Sticks his malt liquor in the fridge.

Zach swings the refrigerator door closed. A toll blond guy is leaning against the counter, staring at him. He is reveled when the door swings closed as though he appeared from thin air.

He is wearing a mask, a nametag on his shirt: Tyler Gerbera. Tyler has a white daisy pinned to his chest.



(Exhales smoke into Zach’s face)

Whaaaaaat’s up? You want a grav hit? Just packed a fresh’un.



What’s the point of these masks? We all know who everybody is.



It’s your worst nightmare?



Have you seen Tessa?



You know she and I don’t talk anymore. A nerve askin’ me a thing like that.



You guys dated a year ago.

-Uh, but. I was just wondering. Fine gimme a hit.


The Sound of a gravity bong filling is percussed to the flic of a Bic. The rush and the rip of the smoke is heard. There is a huge exhale and loud unrelenting coughing.



OOH MY GOD! What is wrong with that water?




I filled it with Tanqueray.


Zach suddenly feels incredibly stoned.

The music vibrations coming through the ceiling begin to seep into his blood. He can feel the sound vibrations stuck to his skin, turning to blood cells and cascading through his body.

Tyler cracks a smile that seems too big for his face. He steps aside to reveal a little girl sitting on the counter behind him. Her legs swing with white stockings, she wears a white skirt. She has a colorful Adventure Time Band-Aid on her knee. She is also wearing a white daisy. A name tag on her dress is relative to her size and is illegible.



What’s your name?






My sister, I’m looking after her.

They didn’t expect her so we had to make her a nametag.

Better here than home, naw what I’m saying?



Tyler! She’s like, ten. Look at her!



I’m thirteen!


Holly and Stephen float in from the party.

Holly is drinking a tall can of Pabst Blue Ribbon and Stephen is drinking from a new bottle of Jack Daniels.

Holly sets her beer down on the counter next to Penelope. Penelope grabs the can and chugs the last remains. She crushes the can, cheers violently and tosses the metal puck into the party. Someone shouts that they were just struck in the head with Another one.



HAHAHAHA! She has been doing that all night.



HEY! My beer!


Zach opens the fridge and grabs his last Colt 45. He closes the fridge and hands the drink to Holly.

He stops for a moment, staring at the door of the refrigerator at the magnets.

AMNESIA, the words begin to vibrate as though they threat to slide all around the refrigerator.



It’s my favorite word. Comes from the Greek meaning “without”; referring to memory.

It’s a deficit in memory, usually caused by brain damage or a stressful psychological trauma.

It can also be caused by various hypnotic drugs.



Stephen. Stay in school.

I’ll be heading to grad school in Boston tomorrow. Have I told any of you this?


Tyler grabs at Holly and they start to hug and kiss.

They get cozy against the counter, nearly knocking into Penelope.






OK, I’m gonna go find the washroom.

Where is it? It’s not like anyone’s listening anyway.



There’s two, but you wont get into the one down here.

Go upstairs, I have one in my room.

On the right.



Where did Pat get off to? Here Holly, take my last drink.


Stephen reaches out and gives him a quick slap for saying the word “drink”.

Zach says nothing. He reaches out and takes the bottle of Jack Daniels from Patrick. He chugs a double shot and hands it back.

He slaps Stephen across the face and leaves.

Brought from Thought

Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, writing

Like kaleidoscope irises;

A line of Dexter washers

Spin on the wall.

Washing over my thoughts

Tumbling there along with my socks

My mind is a blank.

Sometimes that tickles the write side of my brain

Sometimes it pricks it.

She tumbles through my head

Two weeks seems like a century.

Family tumbles through my head

An excursion feels like a pilgrimage.

I need to work less for monetary coin

And write more poetic rhyme.

I dream of writing everyday

But I already do.

Someone with an arm-bundle

Asks me to grab the door.

I hear them through my headphones.

“S’okay” I say.

Placing down my pen,

Grabbing for the latch.


Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, writing

The autumn leaves fall

Tracing the breeze

In colors rustic and whole hearted

The New England air

Is crisp and fair

A memoir of two worlds

Juxtaposed as one.

The night is black

The moon is full

The state cop sleeps

While the barn burns

With the trees

Hickory, Maple, and Birch

Roots keep the East Coast

From eroding into the Atlantic.


The breeze smells

Fresh and clean

The way ocean air should

We hike with haunted eyes

Gazing at the stars

We have never seen

The hanging heavens so clearly

You take my hand

And I point out Orion’s belt.

The Old Man of the Mountain

The face on the license plate

A symbol representing the whole state

Bore a granite nose

That finally tumbled

Unable to bear

The Granite State’s tempests.


New world tales

Whispered across the

Stormy Atlantic

Through shanghai tunnels

Eager sailors brave midnight tide

On silent oar

Racing toward Port City brothels.

Here you drink to

Keep up with the Jones’s.

Here you drink to

Forget the night before

An old man

His city and his whore

No helmet

No seatbelt

No sales tax

Live Free or Die.


Three-dollar PBR fuels

Late night line dancing fools

Spinning smiles brings spinning heads

Do-se doing while lying in bed

My head finds that place

Where neck meets shoulder

While we warm ourselves

By the crackling fire.

Dead leaves burn

Creates dancing ember

There is no sound

There is no sound

There is no sound

Besides the cracking of leaves and

The curling bark on chopped trees.

The Garden of Living Flowers: Pg.3

Benjamin Jenkins, Screenplay, Script, Short Stories, The Garden of Living Flowers, writing



Zach and Patrick approach Holly and Stephen. Holly is leaning her back on the wall smoking a cigarette. The some sends a long tendril up to the ceiling. She has her head turned from the approaching boys, talking to Stephen with an upset tone.



I know! She comes to my birthday dressed like that and I’m all like-



Hi Hollywood.



Zach! Thank’s for coming! I didn’t even recognize you- Mr. Narcissus.


Holly curtseys, She holds her cigarette up and the smoke traces the air.

Stephen stands silently, arms crossed at his chest.

Zach and Patrick stare at him for a moment not knowing who he is.



This is Stephen (She pauses a moment to read his nametag). Stephen-uuuh, VIOLA! Haha!



Hi Stephen, I’m Pat. How do you fit into this game of reservoir dogs?


Patrick extends his hand for a shake.

Stephen ignores Patrick’s outstretched hand. He takes Holly’s cigarette and takes a drag.




I came with Tyler.



Tyler? You mean Tyler-



AAAAAAH! NO NAMES ZACHARY! He is Tyler Gerbera tonight. I know, I made all your nametags personally.


Holly perks at this bit of information with pride. She takes the rest of the cigarette from Stephen and gives them a grin.



And they look lovely like you hun.



Aaaaaanyway, have you seen Tessa, Holly?



You’re gonna have to find her stud. I’ll give you a hint. I think I saw her last near the keg.



Where’s the keg?



You really don’t know how to play games do you?



What’s that supposed to mean? You know I’m leaving tomorrow? I am heading backpacking around Europe. Gonna sample the absinthe, take a train, maybe take in a bull fight.






Hey stud, you wanna play a game?



Can I get one of those smokes Hollywood? It’s cool if we smoke in here?



Well, I am. Cause it’s my party and my place. But, I like ya sweetheart so smoke away.


Holly produces a fresh cigarette for Patrick and gives it to him with a wink.

Patrick places the cigarette between his lips and leans into the lit candle on the table next to them.

He moves over and stands in line on the wall with Holly and Stephen.



Did you just call me stud?






Not you.

Stephen reaches out with a black marker and slashes a black line on Zach’s hand.



Now anytime you say the word “drink” you get a slap. The only way you can turn it around is to do a double shot. Welcome to the game.



Are you insane? A double shot of what?



Liquor, obviously. Stud.



Like, a proper slap? Hey! You really are friends with Tyler, I used to play this same game in High school but it dealt with farts and doorknobs.



Patrick, be quiet. Holly, let’s all take a hit of that Vodka you got there. Get this ass off my back.


Holly picks up the bottle and shakes the liquid, it is just enough for them all to take one swig.



Doesn’t look like enough stud.



Let’s have a toast! You first Patrick.


She hands him the bottle. Patrick sticks the smoking cigarette, ember side up in the Lilly on his shirt.






Patrick takes a huge drink and hands the bottle to Holly.



I drink to ALL of YOU! And, making my party such a wonderful garden of live flowers!


She laughs and takes a drink, passing the bottle to Stephen.



I drink to Lewis Carroll for making that reference possible.


He drinks with everyone looking on in confusion. He passes the empty bottle to Zach. Zach takes the bottle not noticing it is empty. He thinks deeply at what to toast.



TO HOLLY! For throwing such a lovely Birthday party, and an excellent going away party. I drink-


Stephen slaps him for saying the word “drink”. Zach cries out in shock and the bottle goes flying out of his hands.



YOU! I’m gonna beat you! Everyone has said dr-


Stephen raises his flat hand at the ready for him to finish the word.



What gives? I’m gonna sock you the next time you touch me.



It’s the rules stud, you’re marked.


Patrick and Holly’s snickering fuel Zach’s fury. Zach grabs the bag of 40’s from Patrick.



Come on Pat, Let’s go find the fridge.



I’m gonna stay and finish this.


Patrick plucks the cigarette from the flower pinned to his shirt and relights it on the candle.



Fine, where’s the kitchen?


Holly points down the hallway, over Zach’s shoulder.



I gotta find Tessa. I have no time for this stupid game. We’re not done Stephen- touch me again. I swear to god.


With a growl, Zack turns and takes off down the hall. He bumps passed other groups of people laughing and talking.

Hear Me Out

Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poems, poetry, writing

I think in rhyme and verse

Bright sunshine casts thick shadow

Eyes dark tinted like a hearse

Opening morning world windows

Can feels like a curse

Living in the carpool lane

Digesting my surroundings

Into an ink stain

Writing keeps me grounded


Let your eyes fall

Onto my words

Let my voice climb

Up your brain stem

Let my soul pour

Into your cerebral cortex

I’m armed

With vocabulary and context

Buzzing like power lines

Inhale oxygen and Mary Jane

Hold on tight

So high, I develop a fear of heights

Fuel injected

Coffee, pot scented

Shadow black

Milk occasionally

In order to swallow it quickly

Swirling like the Milky Way Galaxy

I’m tired of not having a salary

My father abandoned me

In the interest of himself

I don’t fear death it comes with living

If it comes for me

I pray it’s ready for the commitment

My energy spans universes

Both forward and reverse

I’ll rise like a zombie

Walk along the Earth

Spreading the plague

Of poetic serenade

I grew up on Hip-Hop and B Movies

My bars pull and warp my environment

Like a black hole

You stole everything you could carry

My heart’s made of lead

So who’s laughing now?

The Earth spins beneath my feet

So quickly it keeps everything in perspective

In this endless scrolling world

There is eternity to look back

With only seconds to act

Give me some of your time and I’ll talk you blind.