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Ben Haycook Poem
Just to warn anyone who reading this I do NOT claim to be a poet. Nothing in
here rhymes or anything. Just some crap I wrote. I know the devil thing is a bit
over used. Oh and if someone could tell me the form of this I would thank you. I
feel a bit moronic putting down I don't know.
So very long ago
I made and played the angels suffering
So very long ago
I stole the souls
Their bones did make the body's gruesome tune
The strings were made of love ended to soon
I could I make it sing
I made that damned angel scream for me
So very long ago
I did play the sins of old
So many broken played to death
No one made me feel inept
No, no they could not end the way I played
The scream of murder done
Sweeps telling of harmful love
Oh how I played
Taps telling of the death march
Rhythm of a mothers tears
To her, her daughter was so dear
The plinks of the blood drops
Yet someone always clapped for me
Down below beneath my feet
So very long ago
The devil clapped the earth would shake
The daemons foot would tap and damned men would cry
Down below beneath my feet
As it goes I did find the end for my long bloody road
Entering the place unclean the people beaten they'd heard of me
She sat in the corner
I shook with rage, it been so long since I heard her play
Been so long since I buried her face
She played
I could feel the woes I made undone every love and a mother's touch
The notes sang of an angel free, forgiving me
Oh a corrupt broken man did cry
They sang of trust unbroken
They sang of blood un spilled
Souls unchained
The strings sang so sweet
The strings of misery broke as the happiness in the playing twisted me
Make it stop
That happiness was the greatest cruelty
I stood once more
MY angel screamed
Its pain unleashed I played long into the night
She ended me
Her harp changed every scream
To a lover's lust
And every tap to the sound of beating a heart
The sweep to the sounds of celebration
Make it stop
My fingers grew tired my hands cold
I had made my misery others to long
One last act
The bell toll
The last waltz and the fiddlers price
The price for putting me below
My fiery home
The devil still claps
My angel still screams
But now she also weeps
And her harp lies silent
So long ago
Copyright © Ben Haycook | Year Posted 2007
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Ben Haycook Poem
I relize this may not be the sort of thing people on here want to read, but i doubt anything i write is. soo this is about what they called large boxes where i work. have fun.
Master Crates
Rising up
Folding Forms
The Cardboard Masters
The holders FORM!
Master Crates!!
Slaves obey!
Master Crates!
Cardboard boxes rule this day!
Flat lifeless Shapes
Litter this workroom floor
Human slaves make, obey
Assemble the master crates!
Night falls, slaves make, obey
Forever making Master Crates
Grotesque shapes
Six sided shapes wait
Night brought the Master Crates
Holders, Rulers,
Deliveries are made
Are taken
Flee from the rustle in the night
Run you fools
For you have assembled the
MASTER CRATES!
They hold things.
And rule you.
Copyright © Ben Haycook | Year Posted 2008
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Ben Haycook Poem
Soon to be broken again.
Punished for the greatest of sins
I held on too long
Hoped you’d never end your song
Never really felt whole
When I was stuck alone
You dared write me a soul
Made me hope then left me alone
Will you miss me when you’ve
Had your time to think?
Alone without me
Whenever there’s a problem you take all the blame
Its all your fault it went wrong!
Don’t really see it that way
I need to say I’m sorry
These years of happiness passing by
The jobs not getting done
A van, a man, pair of skilled hands
That’s all I feel like now
Hi love
I take it you need a ride
Copyright © Ben Haycook | Year Posted 2008
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Ben Haycook Poem
To long I’ve stood
Dead in the harness
Never doing more than I should
Holding on to the last hope of an end
The final pull
A void
Hell would be going on
She sees me not as a failure
Tired unable to escape the lights
Her eyes see more than I can be
I hold on with the pride of a defeated soul
A man of shadows and hate
I curse her with her saving light
I shall fail, but who would not try?
A weight on her heels I can but try
By the gods she wonders at what I could not be
Each word mocking me
Smile don't scream
Innocence shines from those eyes
A hopeless romantic
She confesses to dreams
A hopeless cynic
I confess this sickens me
I pull at these chains for her, hold her higher
Copyright © Ben Haycook | Year Posted 2008
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Ben Haycook Poem
On The Masses
How do many poems start?
It is in all I think the desire for expression
The pen or the keys write the painful subject
Or wring the lips in unforced joys
From there the simple marks
The words spoken fresh and free
No longer unite these fledgling
Dreams, masterpieces, written weeping and tortured screaming
Like Eden and the apples bite
The touch of paper upon the words
Brings them to the jungles threshold
To keep your emotions a simple pleasure
Is easy and does not test your measure
Inside the deep the critics lair
Is where the forgotten hopeless and remembered greats dared
Where poems die, screams of passion judged
A flowers description as delicate as the thing
This is where they go be seen, atop the heaps are the standard few
I rarely dig deep, though that is where my own are buried
I'll read the ones seen as great
I'll dream of the ones I'm yet to write
For in a moment they are the same
Copyright © Ben Haycook | Year Posted 2007
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Ben Haycook Poem
Building my walls
Using the same bricks
I said I’d use
Flat, hard, and strong
This wall could last long
If I could but leave it alone
The color beginning to wear
The edges have bruised and broken
The fresh faced start
Reduced to regretful sighs
What of the wall?
Mortar and blood mixed to hold
Do I dare try a different stone?
Knowing that I may never come back
To this wall
Unable to build
Unsheltered alone.
Copyright © Ben Haycook | Year Posted 2008
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Ben Haycook Poem
Listen closer
Abode of tales whispers of the gone
Wander closer
Dust of shadows, tales await
Tears cried out bellows of pain
But one as always is seen
Bound by the voice of bellows and blame
Tales of the ancients and our brothers
Kin and sisters
With horror the list of names
Screams fade bowing before the one they fear
Cavern thee of whispers engraved
Abode of sorrows and lies of pain
Dust of dreams failed
Shadows a failed shield
Darkness protects its own
Faced with the master of truth
The liar's patron
Shall thou flee?
Cavern thee of whispers engraved
Abode of sorrows and lies of pain
Dust of dreams failed
Fallen monuments to forgotten crimes
Abode of tales whispers of the gone
Dust of shadows, tales await
Tears cried out bellows of pain
But one as always is seen
Bound by the voice of bellows and blame
The shadows move and deny themselves
Light a candle
The point a flickering blade
Was it lit for the brave who went forward?
The fool who failed?
The coward who lived?
In the darkness the flame a weak blade
Grows ever weaker
Not so blinding
No longer blinded
You start to speak
voice growing weaker
you whisper
faced with the master of truth
the liar's patron
shall thou flee?
candles lit
Copyright © Ben Haycook | Year Posted 2008
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