Benjamin Feliciano Poems

Up, oh up, luxurious ascent to the extent of emotions.
Transcending pleasure, pain, and death to another tier.
Onward to the sublime, the fullest rapture of experience.
Intermingled with the dark, the uncertain, the troubled, the chaotic, the destructive, the infinite, the difficult, and the apprehensive.
...

Wherein does the point lay in continuing to express my love to her?
An evening spent in a driveway led her to confess she was no longer sure
Of whether or not her feelings were romantic.
Though outside calm, inside I became frantic.
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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,
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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?
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Life is so linear, why?
Train tracks and phone lines; all vectors of forever.
While in the near surroundings, small leaves make great noises,
And grass blades cover cites of minutiae.
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I am pretentious and I am not exempt,
From time spent, without relent
Thinking of my betterment.
Casie says that speculating
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I once loved a girl of similar beauty,
Her features flowed with a simple gradation of still and passive simplicity.
There, in the multitude of memories, she dies.
Her former harmonies now silent enough to draw a sigh.
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I want something to scream aloud,
And I want there to be someone who'll listen.
On the edge of a great compass I sit,
Waiting to be pointed onward.
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This is nothing new,
But it was nearly forgotten.
This longing is welling up inside of me.
As though every organ is swelling and filling with... something.
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Some days I really like people.
Today, for example, I stepped beyond my bias
And befriended some co workers.
Their personalities were far more varied
...