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Michael Benkhen Poem
Waft borderless borders;
within;
The dividing line that separates the free
and the slaves;
where strangers come and go
but the cage is never lifted.
Where sticks and stones travel farther,
and idle remains your soul possession;
pocketed,
dispossessed
and disenfranchised.
Standing frozen in the temporal sea,
while global earth spins yonder;
giving birth to a global movement;
devoid of you,
where the shining guards of globalism obstruct your path
and the cage is never lifted.
apartheid in an open prison,
borders without a border,
where freedom is ill defined
and internal struggle
links the spider web without a spider to keep it.
Copyright © Michael Benkhen | Year Posted 2011
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Michael Benkhen Poem
Does the sand have a memory?
Does it remember the tears it soaks?
The blood it seeps, the fingers clawing at it's form.
Will it mourn for me? Caress my hopes and dreams for me,
so that the next person whose foot kisses the sand will think of me.
May it be so...and my heart would live on forever in people's chests.
Copyright © Michael Benkhen | Year Posted 2011
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Michael Benkhen Poem
Strike!
O strike thy wisdom
and thy freedom;
strike!
While picket signs aren't weapons,
they arouse violent hymns
and bayonet dreams;
o strike!
Where authoritarian presidents,
governors and dictators
all think alike,
strike;
and strike thee common good.
Strike,
O visionaries
with karma on their side,
where echoes fly like angels
and their halos shine so bright;
strike!
Where slavery's not an option
and poverty no life,
no liberty
or happiness;
strike!
Where no act of violence,
aimed at stifling true justice
ever won.
True justice
always voices it's complaints,
always finds some other means,
never ends with the moon
but starts with the sun,
strike!
Fore there's no future otherwise.
Copyright © Michael Benkhen | Year Posted 2011
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Michael Benkhen Poem
The dew drops from morning's eve
becomes the brunch beneath our feet
fore no leaf lunches prior
till the cloud amongst them all's a crier.
Waft in silhouette pro wall
the shadows reflection grows tall
the one whose permanent hide go seek
becomes the widow's peak
of society's awe.
Happiness is in the past
contentment's in the present
hopefulness comes from tomorrow
as tears stain iridescent.
Sorrow locks it's horn anew
forgotten wills and dreams
every sigh and hollowed scream
becomes reality.
That is sorrow's dream.
A dream from which no one will wake,
till the dreamer's body's heart forsakes.
Copyright © Michael Benkhen | Year Posted 2010
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Michael Benkhen Poem
I awake in your dimming eyes
your graying cornea, I feel your pain
through dark lenses I venture to you
even if I can't see you or you me
we'll touch hands in the dark and be pain free.
Copyright © Michael Benkhen | Year Posted 2009
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Michael Benkhen Poem
The Meaning
reason I'm alive
come and visit me at my hole
with a serenade and lullaby
The question
the answer I long to know
come to my embrace
take the color from my face
so the knowledge may take its toll.
Copyright © Michael Benkhen | Year Posted 2009
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Michael Benkhen Poem
To the bottom of the ocean,
where the fish can only dream,
to the bottom of the ocean,
to build our graves-
among the sea.
Tuvalu, Tuvalu-
our home and friend,
our birth place-
and end;
we love you.
To the bottom of the ocean,
clutching sand with grasping nails,
to the bottom of the ocean,
our pleas for help-
have sadly failed.
Tuvalu, Tuvalu-
our home and friend,
our birth place-
and end;
we love you.
To the bottom of the ocean,
to the bottom of the coral reef,
where our homes have been neglected-
to rot in silence beneath the sea.
Please don't forget us.
- Tuvalu is an island nation that is sinking to the bottom of the ocean due to rising sea
levels caused by climate change.
To those of you who still feel that global pollution isn't a problem, you have been taken
in by gas company propaganda. People who would sell their own mother to slavery to protect
their profits, much less allow a whole race of people to sink to their deaths.
If you still think that man made global warming is a lie then you have to fly to Tuvalu
and stand in the waist high water and tell the Tuvalu people why you think they should die.
Copyright © Michael Benkhen | Year Posted 2010
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Michael Benkhen Poem
A shiny pebble laying,
two buffoons nearby;
...a mild concussion.
Copyright © Michael Benkhen | Year Posted 2010
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Michael Benkhen Poem
The pot is a homeless flower atop
the sill it's shanty town.
Without a place to put down roots
they weep without a sound.
Their tears of dew,
drip a strewn;
their cries of excess water.
The flower pot for all it's not
protests without a bother.
The pot is a homeless flower atop
the sill it's shanty town.
The dreams it's dreamt,
how trapped it's felt,
fore lack of solid ground.
Copyright © Michael Benkhen | Year Posted 2011
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Michael Benkhen Poem
I just came face to face with a helpless, homeless woman in a wheel chair-
near the entrance to office depot, begging for food.
I, the useless lump with pockets dry could do nothing to better or prevent the unhappy end
in which I left.
I can only ever wonder, how we justify the waste of money,
How I was the only one to notice, who's heart went limp with pain and anguish-
while people past her by. Why was I the one? Why could I not(like magic) teleport-
a politician or C.E.O for them to explain to her, (to look into her eyes)-
why she can't have a home and a hot meal to eat in front of her.
If you bought a new tv, if you bought a new pc, if you wasted more then a dollar,
picture her starving face.
If you bought yourself a plane, your a greedy monster, think of her face.
If you feel nothing, you have my hate- following you and following you into your grave.
I spit in your direction, watch the saliva dribble down.
I want you to taste my hatred for your greed then bury you in the ground.
So people like that woman can have a home at last...
instead of begging for what we all should have.
Justify it please, say it to my face
my fist aching, it wants to see you misstep
it wants kiss your chin.
Justify your consumerism, your pointless economy,
your corporate fascism, justify it....
I want to hear your lies before I bust you down!
I want to carry the heads of wall street into a room full of homeless
and watch them celebrate at your demise.
For conscience of humanity has dissipated into a financial wreck that must be stopped
before all is lost.
That woman is probably still sitting outside that store;..... begging.
Copyright © Michael Benkhen | Year Posted 2010
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