The best things in life 

aren’t even things at all. 

The material pleasures 

are at best a flash in the pan,

a chasing after the wind. 

Yet the world is teeming 

with them.  

With the malignant joys

of it’s  persistent deception. 

But the intangible gifts to

humanity reside in its nature. 


Love is more powerful 

than every weapon on earth.  

Stronger than steel, 

more resilient than metal. 

A great conductor of emotion,

it travels at great speed.  

Spreading like the light of day;

it produces the hidden bud, 

and unfurls the shy bloom 

to enrich the many. 

Pleasing to the eyes,

and more precious than diamond. 

Its better than a gleam of silver,

or mountain range of gold. 

May it’s truth be told

and may we not withhold 

the greatest gift. 


The awesome spell of autumn is upon us

as we taste the glorious essence

of the timocracy of it’s hue.

The strewn colors of mother nature

restfully bleed; through battalions of trees,

who willingly lay down their leaves,

for the joy of the nation.

“Give me liberty or give me death”,

as they breath their last, into the freedom of soil.

No longer to toil or linger upon the tree.

But set free, released to roam in the earth.

Benjamin Thomas


Time patiently 

discerns the genuine

whilst the counterfeit 

erodes to distant memory

Time conceals a hidden purpose 

to be discovered by the faithful

Time slithers and slides 

then sneaks away in disguise

Time is a fluid vessel 

containing all of humanity

It chronicles the anguish

and hardship and joys

as well as tears of all mankind 

Not one tear is lost

Nor speck of blood forgotten

Time will reveal all things

and at the end all things 

will become manifest

Then time will tell 

if these words were true


I cherish the moments spent; with touring summer winds,

venting torrential rains, hot humid nights in the streets.

Rambling rapid beams of light, scrambling to earth

giving new birth to days, weeks, months and the pleasure of redeeming each ray.

The joyous sound of hearts at play in the cool splash at the park.

Precious moments on the front porch, observing all the commotion,

precious times of precious lives in motion.

Benjamin Thomas


Concealed within muse,

robed erotically in words

of a man confused. 

A haiku

Dreams with Wings

If I had wings 

where would they 

take me?
To the sky

steal the wind 

let it send me 

where it pleases
If I were wind

where would I go?

traverse the earth

to and fro

until it ceases 
If I were wind 

what would I bring? 

summon the storm

or gentle breeze?
Give breath to sail

and skim the seas 

Holdin’ a Grudge

These ol’ bones of mine
have taken offense
at the task at hand

Yet they still demand
an apology to accomplish
their rightful duty.

These antiquated ankles
scream and murmur
at the weight of

This ol’ spine of mine
retreats and seeks the
nearest seat

Like an old forgotten crane
with no name abandoned
to dust and rusted strength

These ol’ wrists of mine
hesitate to twist yet whine
make a turn for the worst

These ol’ bones of mine
bent on holding a grudge
hope they don’t judge too harshly


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