9 posts
  • murryben 9w

    The walls in my bedroom are blue like
    my mother's disappointed eyes at
    three in the morning. So blue I am a
    spluttering fish stuck on a hook before
    the final yank. Blue like the spiral staircase
    of expectations my father built for me
    since he kissed my forehead and gave me
    my name, with just enough teeth to leave
    lesions on my insomniac skin.

    It's not azure blue like tender irises you
    keep pressed on your diary because the
    last time your lover tucked it between
    your tresses, your feline eyes purred like
    a fed baby on vacation but it's blue like
    blue bath and blue murder exploding
    into an orchestrated fragments of
    failures and heartbreaks.

    And the witches on their brooms cackle
    and fly on the walls but a spell is not
    enough to wash this static heave and pull
    from my blue blue veins. The walls in my
    bedroom are blue mirrors and they only
    reflect this half chewed emptiness
    of a bedraggled martyr, toss turning
    on a brick blanket that crushes my
    clogged heart.

    But the people in my town opines
    Yellow's the new culture,
    And the sooner, a new paint coat,
    Brighter is a face lift and
    Deeper, their burial ground.
    I have had too much of the whispers
    And a woman needs her quiet time
    as much as she needs her sleep.
    And the things you say at 3 am
    is too often a hammer down
    your bones, for all the weight it
    carries, or so it seems
    or so I was told.

    ~Ben M
    5th May 2022

    Hello @elisabetkiss 💋

    I owe you all a hearty THANK YOU for constantly encouraging me. I realized today I have already completed 2 years of my mirakee journey. It's been a long ride, an on and off relationship with me being constantly absent. Nevertheless, you guys have always helped me get back on track and hayeee, I am truly indebted to you all. Hope everyone is doing well ❤️
    @writersnetwork you have been my constant since my journey on this platform started. Thank you for encouraging me. Thank you for this lovely repost too. Truly humbling 💓
    @miraquill THANK YOU for the gift of this pod. You motivate me. Thanks again for the prompts you painstakingly come up with daily, it helps me write. For giving us this platform, which is home to me,Thank you even more ❤️

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  • murryben 22w

    Where do unspoken words go when
    they die? Do they stay petrified in silence
    like the lips of Pompeii's offsprings when
    Vesuvius raged from the mount of her Sevenfold Height and buried the last of heart's tender
    outbursts in her liquid venom?

    Where do unsaid words go when they die?
    Do they trail sore on needle stuck flesh to
    the wild wind's antic like a thread broken
    kite while Goddess Elysian from her baby blue
    crib frets and frowns and begs for it to find
    a safe landing?

    Where do unspoken words go when they die?
    Does it flail its bony arms for the touch of
    its lover's familiar embrace from her six feet
    trench of a grave while the willow weeps her
    silvery leaves for the young burial that flows
    down river Lethe and never made home?

    Where do unsaid words go when they die?
    Is yours as sour as the taste of blood on my
    mouth when I swallow the rise of rebellion
    on my teeth clamped coward jaw?
    Is yours as mournful as the drop of the sun in
    the West and the eerie hush that hang on
    the eaves of a forgotten ghost town when
    the Night comes to rest?

    O where do words go when they die?
    Is it me I mourn for?
    Is it words I mourn for?

    ©Meri Murry
    30th Jan

    P.s : told you someday I was gonna use your name.
    To the lucky charms and the darlings, you know I love you ����

    Thank you for the repost @writersnetwork ��
    @miraquill thank you for the lovely surprise ��

    #questions #wod #benecc #podben

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    ~Ben M

  • murryben 24w

    In the folds of October's
    sapphire pleated skirt
    runs an archived tale of us,
    In zig zags of cave paintings,
    fanning wide like a peacock's
    feather, immortalized on
    red spit charcoal and mud,
    And God knows then, I had
    an unfettered wing for a limb,
    and an unhooked spine
    unrushed, gliding in sync
    with you on the dreamy lush
    of a twilight embracing an
    ember studded sky.

    Autumn is as much a
    passing dream as Winter
    is an uninvited guest
    sipping on black dregs
    of melancholia and regrets,
    Burying hand stitched
    leaves of our psychedelic love
    in alien sheets of ice and frost.
    When the snow seeps into the
    roof of my naked shoulders,
    your furlough goodbyes that
    lodges deep into
    the doorknob of my heart,
    fester and wounds,
    like bullets fired point blank
    and the holler of a
    moribund echo recants.

    I sit bereft of words now,
    And from the casket of
    ancient yesteryear's flutters
    the forgotten wings of an
    unweighed heart, waiting for the
    stroke of your thumb on my eyebrows
    and let loose my frowns into smiles.
    I sit bereft of words now,
    Waiting for the familiar touch
    of your warm hands to turn
    the doorknobs and usher the
    gold of Autumn in. I have never
    said it loud, never once in words,
    But God knows, the world was
    kinder when I had you by my side
    Then, I had lesser scars to sew.

    ©Meri Murry
    15th Jan

    Oh, lights go down
    In the moment we're lost and found
    I just wanna be by your side,
    If these wings could fly
    For the rest of my life

    Song ~Wings by Birdy.

    Not really. I started the day with this song.
    First time I am writing on the prompt this year �� I even feel proud of myself ��

    Edit again: @writersnetwork Thank you. You have always been very kind ��

    @miraquill I doubted myself and you gifted me this. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

    To you all who always stood by me, I love you.
    @amsterdam major missing you.
    #song #wod

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    ~Ben M

  • murryben 38w

    October arrived early this morning,
    A superstar in gold glammed robes,
    Whispering sweet promises of
    a full stacked granary before the
    Sun's nightly slumber.

    My thoughts wander towards the
    empyrean, a flamboyant enchantress
    dressed in cobalt blue. She floats and
    sings the bashing Sun a serenade,

    (I think I feel the tip of my ears burning)

    The birds, in jubilation, breaks into a
    chorus of hallelujahs, a tune that sets
    my heart racing. It is morning like this
    Peace finds me, beneath the wizened
    tree in sweet repose,

    When the Earth's a tranquil mother,
    waking to the sound of her children's
    laughter. She smells of damp soil and
    rosemary thyme, a concoction
    my nostrils in acceptance sniffs to.

    I sit in awe, tasting the bliss of
    solitude on my tongue's tip while
    the lone leaf the old tree clings to,
    dreams of a spring that was
    promised to him.

    ©Meri Murry

    #patheticfallacy #wod
    #podben #benecc

    @miraquill you don't know how much this means to me. Thank you for the pod 💜

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    An October Morning

  • murryben 46w

    My anxiety sits in the corner of
    my dystopian heart. I am snow and
    dirt glistening morosely on mud and
    straw. I'd like to break a wall or two,
    this glass beauty that separates us
    and see if I spurt blood that puts to
    shame this fiery sun and come back
    anew in water and dirt like earth.
    Help me breathe!

    There's a transparent ocean inside
    your eyes and a poet can, but only
    pen lyrical ballads in your favour that
    puts the envious Gods to unadulterated
    rage. But I am no poet and I see corpses
    your ocean eye houses. Sepulchres,
    fawning eyes never see, and I wonder,
    I wonder if this mortal agony will last
    till the peals of the final trumps.

    I have never known the address of
    Happy Endings because Love held
    me hostage once. I know I paid a
    Kingdom's ransom, most times in
    salty tears and so you will find me
    on tiptoes now, waltzing to Hozier on
    a fine Sunday evening by the seaside
    alone and you can watch me collapse,
    collapse into infinite nothings.

    ©Meri Murry


    PS: ah, eccentricity��
    #start #podben #benecc
    @/writersnetwork : You made my day with your comment �� thank youuuuu. I adore you ♥️
    Thank you for the lovely repost too.
    @miraquill this actually feels surreal. Never thought I'll get another pod. Thank you!

    Edit: inspired by an interview I read about the moon. Thank you all. I don't even know if I deserve this ♥️

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    A Winter's Medley

  • murryben 68w

    #divorce #trauma #poem #life
    @writersnetwork @mirakee

    @mirakee OMG! Thank you!
    To Bukowski, we cheer ��
    You are ❤️ personified.
    Thank you again time for the read and repost.

    To you all who read/liked/reposted, take my ❤️ already.
    #benecc #podben

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    ~On His Tragedy Of Being A Man~

    There's a sob stuck in
    my father's throat
    that refuses to come out.
    and so it stays lodged
    and tickles and tingles.

    Sometimes he staggers
    home in the dead of the
    night and calls out my
    mother's name.

    But my mother,
    My mother... She is the
    deafening silence that
    echoes on bare walls,
    the empty spaces between
    the ceiling and the fan.

    and so the pots the pans
    no longer silver now sits
    idly on the sink.
    The hearth, the warmth
    has gathered cobwebs
    and taste like death.

    But father, dear father
    tells me to smile pretty
    on days he combs my hair
    to take me to school.
    Ah, but he forgets to smile!

    There's a sob stuck in my
    father's throat that tickles
    and tingles and stays
    but a man's got to
    be a man.

    If not for himself
    then for his family.

    And so he swallows his sob.

    ©Meri Murry