Is it cliche
To love
The crowd pleasing moment
Of a sunrise or sunset,
Or just proof
That our hearts
And our minds
Feel the same
Connected dreamscape
And be
In the very
Same way?
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
writing
Mostly Nothingness
Blue beyond
With wisp cirrus,
Transitory, fleeting:
The smouldering wake
Of sun demise
At horizon’s boiling ebb.
A thankful thought:
For all we have done
We are still mostly nothingness.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Sexual Significance
Fronds of coraline and sweet,
Tender wands disseminating
Flume flower and myth
And decadence:
The flush festooned,
Plush push
Of sap transformed
To nectar’s heady
Significance of sex
And desirous fertility
Expressed in petal perfect
Symmetry and wantonness.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
First
Explorer ponders
The journey ahead:
Someone must take the first step.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
My iPhone And The Cloud
In to the phone’s world
I look,
So varied
So shiny
So new.
In to this
I download my memory,
My images,
My thoughts.
And all the questions
I might ask myself,
Both profound
And mundane,
Away I merrily Google.
The world
In one way widened,
And yet
One way closed
As life shifts
Ever nearer,
Ever closer
To the outside mind
Of the irresistible cloud.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Journey To The Sphere
Cobbled till they’re smooth
And edgeless,
Stones like our selves
Come rightfully
And finally
To spherical ease.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Truth
The scientist say they know it.
The religious say they own it.
Societies loosely adhere to common
Agreements of mostly hearsay,
And we all bumble along
As if we lived in the same world!
But the truth,
(If I dare be so bold,
Or at least, my personal
Understanding of it), is that
There are worlds in multitude,
Understandings in multitude,
Perception in multitude,
And to claim one truth
Above and beyond,
Is of the finest, beautiful egotism,
For no man knows the whole sum
And lives as he drifts with glimpses of
Moments, brief meetings and
Encounters, dances with partners
Ever changing:
All deeply relevant,
Deeply relevant to him.
Truth is heart close.
Mind close.
Soul close.
And individual in its unraveling.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
When This Happened
When this happened
He felt a smug, warm feeling
And an unbearable rightness,
The kind of light
That no one really wants to like
For its whiff of the sanctimonious.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
Spheres Of Being
This poem was inspired by a photo by Steven Schwartzman.
https://portraitsofwildflowers.wordpress.com
As if
We needed more proof
Than this
For worldly significance
Of the microcosm
In the macrocosm
And the fractal maps
That return again
And yet again
To the shapes in our eyes.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
FaceBook World
It’s just the same as it always was
Except now
I can read your every unedited thought
And see
Your self image
So much more clearly.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
