JosephBenton

 Dear Bill,  You don't know me and we never really spoke, but that was probably true of a lot of your admirers. Not that you weren't open. Quite the opposite, your lust for life could be felt even by mere observers. And that is why, I suppose, I'm writing this to you, wherever you may be. For you see, life misses her lover. I hate to tell you this given your current disposition, but she has been quite distraught. We have done what we could to console her, and signs of progress are showing. But I'm sure you can understand that she feels underutilized. Don't feel obligated to return. I, among many others, are vowing this very day to make su

 I closed my eyes and felt the wind caress my face as it passed over the small sanctuary we had found. There was a whisper on the wind that was just outside my understanding. I squinted my eyes, and urged my ears to grab the whispered words, but it wisped away as fast as it came. I opened my eyes and was greeted by a field of green, rolling hills, the grass waving as the wind danced across. The wind tussled my hair as I wished for that soothing voice to return, but it left me wanting. My horse whinnied, as if wishing for the same. Not that I blamed him, he knew what was coming as much as I. “Sir?” the voice came from my left. I b

 What is strength? Strength is pressing on in spite of the pain. Strength is the ability to reach a goal. Strength is the willingness to ask for help when in trouble. Strength is being able to admit faults while still being proud. Strength is the ability to continue even when no one else believes. Strength is the ability to decide who to trust and act on the decision. Strength is the ability to create hope where there is none. What is courage? Courage is admitting fears. Courage is the ability to look in the mirror and say “I can be better.” Courage is the ability to constantly seek self-improvement, even when all other things

Sometimes Those that have little to say Speak the loudest In few words Sometimes Those that have little to say Pick up the pen instead And make the world listen

 I walked through the cold. It was snowing. I wrapped my worn coat tighter around my shoulders, slowing the escape of my precious body heat. It was hard to do; there wasn’t much left. My feet crunched and sank in the snow with every step like so many ships blown against treacherous rocks. The ground beneath, solid and unforgiving, meets my feet with a subtle thud. The vibrations reach my chest, shaking away more precious heat, away from where my heart was…where my heart should be- I walked through a farming village. The sun broke through the clouds, and I shielded my eyes, unprotected. People were sparse, and those I saw paid

His brain A flower pot of ideas Growing, blooming, dying… Growing again Entangling Two worlds, one mind He says selfish I say selfless Selfish minds Are never so generous Emerald isles Golden deserts Green forests magical, monstrous True creativity burns Inside you Urges to get out Enflames fingers, eyes, mouth Express, express, express Speak, speak, speak, Write, read Yell Until your throat hurts Till your lungs burn Creativity controls the artist Enslaves the mind, the body And molds it to its will Two worlds, one mind He’s a monster But human More human Than many Falls, but stands up Falters, but

 It was my fifth shot of liquor that night, but I didn’t care. I could hold my own. Besides, tonight felt like a good night to get drunk, if nothing else. The bar was filled will other men like myself; drinking away their worries for the night. It was full of the usually din and cigarette smoke that I could tolerate. Wasn’t like I was there for the atmosphere anyway. All I knew was they served good drinks, the four shot glasses in front of me a testament. I also heard there was good music here, but that was yet to manifest. The heavy-headed mic stood waiting, alone, like… “Shit,” I mumbled to myself and downed the s