Molecular God
Molecular God was searching for atoms
And Eve, hoping to pull a rabbit
Out of his sleeve – but never having
Seen one
He wasn’t sure what he was thinking about
But no-one had come up with a word for doubt
So He maintained His omnipotence
As the events
He wanted to manipulate passed from late
To early between the dark and light,
And feeling squirrely helped Him create one
But He wasn’t done
Because there were pies to bake and orchards
To make with figs – or apples depending on
How the Greeks would translate vocabulary
In the library
Of knowledge where the sun would set and burn
The lessons Pre-Socratics learned about
The ancient powers of lightning-bolt Zeus
Cut loose
And washed away by a snake’s worth of fruit juice.
–
Confections Dripping
At the confectionary counter
Confections can’t counter
The chocolate-filled emotions
That self-reflect
On opinions that don’t concern
Them trying to burn them
With the sugary flames
On dim candles
Down into pools of factual wax
That puddles back up into abstract
Stepping stones sold at psycho-
Analysis parties
For the Post- and Neo-Freudian
Groups of nostalgic sense
Compiling the stories, storms
And consequences
That fit together in short haiku
Nature scenes to explain what it means
To melt and have their feelings felt
Right before
They make a mess on the candy store floor.
–
Dada Flowers
Petals puddle their own perfume
Inviting bees and humming birds to smell
The blurred wisps of colors twirling
And swirling
Into seasonal pools of moistened longing
Gathering at the end of the stem
And along the rim of the bouquet
Wanting to be
Cut and taken into forbidden waves where
Hidden faces bury their butterfly tongues
Into the pleasure of warm, aromatic places full
Of water
And nurturing ideas of modern collections
Where thorns and infections are kept
Out of the hive and away from the honey
Combed with sunny
Days where the nectar pays for the labor
It takes to collect it in the effort
Directed by passion and natural instinct’s
Own calling
Where harvests keep flowers from falling.
–
The author of Buddha Bastinado Blues and The Kill Gene, Ben White was convinced he was a poet only to find out he is not a poet at all – he is a witness. What he writes is testimony. His work has appeared in various online publications; As You Were, Exterminating Angel, Creativity Webzine, AkashicBooks.com, and most recently, Tuck Magazine. He also has writing included in The Paragon Journal’s anthology, Seven Forbidden Words: The New Way of Protesting and Proud To Be, Volume 6. His half-poem, half novella (a “poevella”), The Cuban, is forthcoming from Running Wild Press.
