I Am That Man

by Ben Pickard   Dec 12, 2017

I am another sordid cliché - the 'poet' who scrawls
'pretty' words on his own sickly skin, awash with
the smell of whiskey at 2.00am as Bach and Beethoven
do their best to inspire beauty from earth that is long overturned.

My chapters have never been dried by butterflies, though...

I am he who is damned and dangerous -
who wakes in a wild fit of anger and uncertainty -
flammable vomit frozen to his clothes, as tepid
sunlight breaks the horizon, and breaks
its promises of warmth again.

I am the man that walks the moors,
into the untamed ether of oblivion,
head bent against the northerly wind;
unkempt, longhaired and forlorn.

I am the lonely recluse in the woods,
dishevelled and disillusioned - trying so hard
to forget the life he has left behind.

And I am the man who walks the mountains,
keeping company with crows and dead daffodils -
drinking his own filth from the unforgiving streams.

I am that man. I just haven't left yet.


Ben Pickard 2017


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Latest Comments

  • 1 month ago

    by Fredy

    Hey Ben I have been gone for a while and it's refreshing to see you're still a genius at conveying what I feel! I'm binge reading all your work. Thank you for all the poems

    • 4 weeks ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Lovely comment, ROAM. Thank you.

  • 1 month ago

    by Milly Hayward

    Congratulations on your very well deserved win. Milly x

  • 1 month ago

    by Dagmar Wilson

    Congrats on your win Ebb

  • 1 month ago

    by mossgirl19

    Congrats on your win, Ben!

  • 1 month ago

    by deeplydesturbed

    Congrats Benny :)

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