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I couldn't help myself

Updated on December 26, 2011


This day without an end, with only moments of sleep
in between eternities of open eyes and minds
remaining ajar, despite attempts
to seal them and rest until it ends,
until we may awake to the scent of life,
the sights of glistening light
dancing over the tops of clouds
and surfaces of water bodies

Our love for one another was as jagged as the tips of frozen knives,
encasing our hearts with numbing cold upon every waking fight
and in that state of frostbitten passion, our fires never died
we were trapped within the clash of seasons in our minds

I decorate my residence with memories of your face
I saturate my essence with reminiscence of those days


It's left me
with only myself
by my side
two sides of a coin
one of them burned
one of them covered
in smudges of ash
representing cold
that entered that night
when the fire burned
so far out of control
and took her away
it was then that I knew
I was meant for a future
so very much darker


In valleys
in alleys
in shadows
at night
finding endings
of the third
or forth kind
of fear
you feel it
in sleeping
in nightmares
in dreaming


Monoxial ignition
carbon inhalation
blue flame claims
life and cold blood
burning every time
the key is turned
on the other side
of tonight, death lies
awaiting the passing


These thoughts come in Summer
and leave in the cold
like my ability to regulate
my temperature control
set on reckless behavior
set on self-seeking self
you've got me retreating
simply ecstatic
over developing events
as my system is crashing
and my hard drive is cleared
and electric currents run through
every wire and circuit


Hold the lines
until they're upon us
hold your fear deep inside
and let them have confidence
until the very last moment
before their blades pierce your heart
stand and deliver
the final blow to their pride

enough blood, for tonight
enough pain, just for now
let them recover, let them restore
their ranks till tomorrow
then we'll crush every hope
devour their wills
destroy every chance
they ever had to survive


What a wasted aspiration
to poison your achievement
and regret everything along the way
until your story of success
becomes a stifling failure
in your record book of losses
and is filed with the rest

© copyright Ben D.A 2011


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    • BeyondMax profile image

      BeyondMax 5 years ago from Sydney, Australia

      It is such an intense ride, such a range of images flew through my head, I had an array of emotions, simply impressive!

    • The Suburban Poet profile image

      Mark Lecuona 6 years ago from Austin, Texas


    • Nellieanna profile image

      Nellieanna Hay 6 years ago from TEXAS

      Writing for me was never about being read or appreciated. Until I was in my late 70s, almost no one else did either read or appreciate it. I know that It's not about the audience, it's about you, yourself, Ben. If we do open it up for others to read and they do, fine. But that changes nothing. Your writing expresses YOU. What could be more glorious than that? To be able to express in words your feelings and stirrings, thoughts and visions. So many go through life mute and virtually deaf/dumb when it comes to either giving or receiving such messages. It's a heady condition, being a writer.

      Your depth and myriads of thoughts as they rise and fall, surge and subside, sizzle or fizzle are put into WORDS. Don't measure their worth - let alone YOUR worth - by others' responses to them. Some may be among the deaf/dumb, others can hear but have many other things pulling at them. Enjoy when it comes, keep moving when it doesn't. People are fickle. Popularity is like a mist blown by the breeze.

      You have talent and much to say - maybe more than even you have fully realized. And those with real perception are well aware of it. But when folks are not coming, even those who do perceive, there are countless reasons which have nothing to do with you or your writing. All the more reason to not put too much vital stock in that.

      This poem or set of poems is dark and deep. It speaks.

      No, people don't have to have laughter or lightness, but, yes - occasionally people do need to find warmth and some hope when they come to us. As poets we have a kind of responsibility to show all sides of the issues of life, up and down, back and front, inside and outside. Mostly we have to give back to the life thing. It's our price for having the abiltiy, maybe, though I think it's our own benefit which gets the most.

    • BenWritings profile image

      BenWritings 6 years ago from Save me from, Tennessee

      Uriel - that is always wonderful to hear, especially since my traffic has pretty much died completely. I feel like a HP ghost :P

      thanks so much for the read/comment and btw I made a new facebook, did you know that? Look up "Ben Aptaker" and add me please? I want to keep in contact

    • Uriel profile image

      Uriel 6 years ago from Lebanon

      BEN? can i tell you something HONESTLY ?? this poem is i don't know, it just speaks to me. Right now it feels like for once somebody knows what i am feeling. There is something in that poem that simply makes it different. I don't know how to explain it, yet i think it speaks to me somehow and i can relate.~epic as always :D

    • BenWritings profile image

      BenWritings 6 years ago from Save me from, Tennessee

      I really appreciate it man...I really don't expect anything good anymore. I guess I'll just keep writing regardless of who cares. I know you feel the same way a lot.

    • The Suburban Poet profile image

      Mark Lecuona 6 years ago from Austin, Texas

      I know man... I just put one up on my FB page called I'm Going to Die Someday and I thought about it a long time before I did.. whether it's good or not is not the point; it's just heavy and I think people look at it and probably just keep on driving because they want that laughter... I think you are a great writer and have surpassed anything I can do....

    • BenWritings profile image

      BenWritings 6 years ago from Save me from, Tennessee

      that means a lot Mark, thank you for your support. I've been extremely discouraged

    • The Suburban Poet profile image

      Mark Lecuona 6 years ago from Austin, Texas

      Awesome wordsmithing... I think I know what you're talking about and it might be two things at once; alternating and braiding, but I can take this and make it mine if I wish because you give me license to do it because you stop well short of being obvious... Don't regret anything. I think you are on a plateau and are exhausted at the supreme effort you have been making and the view is not worthy of your commitment and the triumphs you had along the way... take in the view and then begin again... maybe you should go live and pick up a mic and scare the audience.