Cigarette Break, Sans Newports
This weather is perfect.
I could lay bare on the grass and in the sun
To delight in the breeze flying in from the mountains.
My mind is void of music which would hope to bounce around my head,
Obstructing clarity and thought.
I have but fifteen minutes on my break.
I find myself tucking in my shirt and straightening my sleeves
As I re-enter the building and return to my desk.
I wish I was playing soccer.
poem by Benjamin Feliciano
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Finding Life In Death
I spend so much time doting on earth and what it has,
Enjoying what's mine to use, to take, to squander.
I keep modeling myself to what I think will work,
But for my mistakes there is no remedy.
All my light, no matter how hard I shine,
Cannot overcome these stains of dark, of perversion, of guilt.
I look around and am without excuse, there is success, there is right,
But where does this over powering light, that is not subdued by death come from?
Nothing I have within me can overcome me,
Who is this intercessor that magnetically pulls me towards him?
This light, somehow familiar with death, a death, many deaths,
my death.
How is his death on my hands because of my death?
My death, my dying, my deeds deserving death...
For my death he died?
How redemption suddenly eclipses all other pursuits,
I switch from seeking sin to seeking salvation.
And it is found.
poem by Benjamin Feliciano
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A Wallet With Memories, Not Money
Is it better to never have made any lasting memories,
And be completely detached from life and lovers and friends?
Or to fabricate circumstance and chance in an effort to romance
The mind into believing there can be any hope to recover days or make amends?
To this I have no answer, because I am slave to both ideals,
Both benign and malignant in result and consequence;
Neither heart nor brain attend to the other's appeals.
For logic says to remain stoic and distant and alone and... safe;
While love says to embrace things as they are and to live for today.
Born a natural cynic with a penchant for soft lyric and fine company,
A man of moral dilemma am I, underestimating the sway that she
Had on the every opinion and thought and emotion that made me.
Yet indeed at this point I am somewhat reassured, with fair opportunity
For new lives and new lovers and new friends and new, me.
poem by Benjamin Feliciano
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