http://slow.writerscafe.org/Ben%20Lingemann The original writings of author Ben Lingemann en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776027342 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 We cannot seem to understand that one perceives personally with limited scope, a minuscule allotment, a slippery vision of time. We believe to hold witness to a great single minded river, this metaphor is bought wholly and sold solely to sweeten our short life-As one word often leads to the next, a .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/714688/ Languid light fell eery through the fulgent fog bank.Crows called, wheeling in the glare.We swing on rubber and chain taking turns calling back the chattering challenge.I do not falter as your fingers find minewhile we walk, shoulders brushing. Framed momentarily in crunching autumn leaves.For a whi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/714685/ I am young and small,youthfully slight and skinnywith grasping fingers.You turn your backand begin to trudge away.All I can remember isreaching to hang onto your apron laces-wrapping my fingers in itand being dragged along,my feet leaving furrows in the soft ground of spring.You don't lookor acknowl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/708494/ I am aplenipotentiaryof your heartbut not your tongueWhich whips with shoutInflictingall thisdoubt--Try not to see my glaring mistakeswhen uncaring I am trumpeting arrogant aches.--I became lost in channels of the self and now-I have smoothed out my spikes, inverted my aversions, diluted my delusion.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/708493/ There is insincerity in my electric praise, regardless of response I drip cool pools of soft cloth on floor and utter abstruse succulent phrases.Even with all this, I am insipid in lending lip service to sex.I absently inhale acrid smoke because I never pretended to be a hermetic socialite-because i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/708492/ Who am I   to- deny,to reject.To, discardthe boneless fruit thatis only inanimate clay.I went to hold your handon the return ridein the back of a NY taxi cab,with the sense of imbricatingmemories hanging heavy.I touched the soft flesh 'twixt yourthumb and forefinger.In that moment of time .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/708487/ Electronic karma spills unnoticed, neon in the streets of concrete and oil only to be dissected by the scissoring legs. I see streams of soil eroding whereas you live free from worry because we view time differently and incur incrementally indifferent sins assuredly. I ameschewing violence with the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/708485/ Imagine another world, one that curls slowly inward on an off balance increasingly coiled elliptical descent toward a dwarf star flaming red and in relative size- small, feel the uncertainty within days filled by rays of burgundy. Dead and inorganic with a tightening timed existence. Fuel, I am noth.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689916/ Your weltering words do not interest mewith its lack of true clarity.Just your tongueand all the inhuman noise it can makeOh' schlepped out- sleeping sonyou are the ever tediously coveting one ungratefully burdened by soft sin as if it does not alter the personality within.Scrape gingerly the bottom.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689914/ I despise names and call them the false handle- that they are. A grip of pre-molded proportions, framed in impertinent memory. An acerbic peremptory command of character stamped neatly at birth, a great girth of foreshadowing left pregnant by passing humanity. Crystallized now, dutifully, by the wil.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689912/ Listen closely and hear our collective vernacular in a state of constant mitosis.Live and see our language begin to rival our own complexity.A myriad of inter-connecting word highways with more twists, turns and travelers than that of any physical road.A body of thought massing in our collective con.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689911/ There is no simple sin, even within an ignorant whim.You have an absence of forward thought,I treat this as if- it is an abnormality.Can you, for just a momentimagine yourself as you are,disingenuous and ordinary.Can you, for just a momentstep outside your solidified perception of the continuum.You .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689910/ A Mass Inversion.I have lived to witness an Apple become a juggernaut see the followers nod their heads in belief, walking segregated on the streets unaware of their own worship.We have not yet realized that the largest religion in the world is no longer faith based, technophiles fill our ruraland m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689909/ My body was found in an autochthonous cranny stinking of death,between the hookers legs; burnedwith a magnesium flash- of the bulb popping.It illuminates mere shapesresembling humans only remotely;the way a copse of bracken burnt conifers' resemble matchsticks. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689906/ I am trying to pick up a thin unforgiving object with my over-sized, disjointed creaking hands- again.Plastered smooth, flatly white and plain, sharply contrasting the oaken ornate table beneath.A pointed creation - filled from within by an impossibly pulled pin n' covered simply in slim thinly soft.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689904/ I'm tired of Love lost, of cookie-cutter me missing you and all of the ridiculous rhymes that ensue. More and more I am fed up, plainly sick of inflated ego's insulated by chosen ignorance or inborn imbalances, maybe a history of inbreeding from a catalyst of parochial need.You are a parody of menta.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689903/ What can an individual know of drugs? While transcending only able to look in on the Id of themselves and not the out of said mental health. Sunken and sullen while witnessing the golden kingdom, an illusion of a fully realized sense of self, an identity never fully actualized in reality.And every d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689901/ a drugstore pallid in waning light, always illuminated in halogen halos.I am earless with music. Black metal loud in clanging sets and blows-foreshadowing the smell of cleaning solution, air freshener and the outside sweet at my back all steeped deep in the rip roaring undertone torrent of cigarette.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689899/ You subtly strum soft passionate symphonies of pathosand are wordless in casual relapseto canals of bliss and carnal bane-Schisms of cannibalism eat at my soft humanitywith cries of animalism-that are sexy, animated in oil.I consume you on dull nightsbecause you are there no matter whatAnd I hate th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689898/ My frantic worship of winter is bitter.His ache was gone in a moment,you use the knife and incubate a symphony.We the ugly rust run madalways beneath the Lightbared lust watching Lovedrooling delicate shadows.-Your repulsive tongue has screamedsweet languid moans,my cry is bitter and essentialour ga.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689897/ A forlorn jacket absently left on a gate post warms in the sun. No wind rustles its fringed edges, the shadow cast envelopes half of the green post and its arms circle down around embracing the square metal pole. Like a man hanging his head it stays; a resting place for both bugs and lonely thoughts.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689893/ My words have been ripped from meuncovering my naked body below and I bemoan the cold or mayhap just existenceMy pupils will not focus, a lack of dilationI am not entombed in lifefor I blink with each inhalationI am subtly encased in fleshnot sufferingsimply slippingMourning the loss of my languagea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689892/ Cold and clean, clinical, “and his name is The End of Days” said the priest.        “At least he wasn’t born deceased”-        “Like the last”Clips and phrases filtered and bent .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689890/ the Exquisite Executioner.What kind of organic golem of engrammic man am I, so cold as to make you quiver.You ask what hides under my thin veneer of vernacular? A bullshitter.Caressing a mind swollen with SuperegoI'd rather be traveling Home if only I could just letMe     &n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689889/ As you jerk and jigglehop and knockslip and gigglekeep a foot forwardand the other forewarned.Slack jawed and hackneyedyou're endlessly forlornslack kneed and jack knifed.High on strife and bloody,car crashes on black rockcracked streets and hardsweets lined teeth sostained with self love thatyour i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689888/ I am staring at the red hand demanding stop in a mostly silent rushing manner with any urgent notice for the blind lost in the crushing banter.And there is white hot anger in meat the flamboyant capsules borne along to be seenit is Soylent in essence proudly proclaiming to be greenI am flaring at th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689887/ Nowhere is now here, desolation; within my adulterated honesty you took from me that which you did not believe I still owned in your break-neck speed habituallyfreed into earthly delight inthe last shades of dim lightwild with sin, hiding a sparsevapid wilderness within.You firmly handle my grip as .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689886/ Oh' glamorous god glassy eyed, in meyou have so very much time investedI burn past tense n’ loosen tight lips. I maybe lost without Love jejunely injectedregularly in to my life made little withworry and neglect. Love's politics ensue; know I am not the one for you. I have not been properly te.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689885/ I forgot my life as I lived it.I forgot my body as I died.I forgot my shadowas it was burned on the wall.I forgot then and nowand will forever after.I forgot the sky as it was blue.I remembered the sky as it is now,still dark and brooding--filledwith the truth of our downfall.I forgot that the bombs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689884/ I strip you naked,leave you firmly fixed to the spotin the coldencircled by a metalfence.You're rooted to that spot.Without me, you'll neverleaveand with my cold metal devicesI will find the disease in you.Driving it outfor fear it will reach the core.--You're curled inward,dense limbs jumbled .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689883/ He opened his coffin and folded the side down, swung his legs over. Gathered his strength and pushed off heavily, rising unsteadily to his feet.           "Dead man walking" He catcalled, giggling to himself.       .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689882/ The transvestite in the corner sauntered over to me dripping sleaze while I tightly gripped j&b on the rocks in a heavy glass ignoring myselfand he whispers heavily in my earafter colliding with the bar, sitting down hard"I want to be treated like a woman, and fucked like one."The hooker next to.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689881/ Their wrecked bodies festoon the fence, lovingly hand hung.The spot was recently afflicted with such violencenow sits empty of life, full of hideous silence.Take a hold forcefully with your grasping fingers ofthe handleand wipe the slate clean,sweep the desk off,rip the picture from the wall,take ah.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689879/ I miss being filled with a sense of here and now fromthe unclouded mental vision of youth beforethe eclosion from adolescent reverie toadult delusions.Every moment thereafterbeing crystallized with serene debasement of self.With age eagerly gripping the hand of heartache,will you worry about losing .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689878/ As the winter begins to again seep into my perceived world,I use clothes as my pseudo-armor,layering to keep in warmth.In staunch dissonanceI will begin to leave complicated tracks.As snow dissolves familiarity, leaving only cold ambiguity, I will begin to miss youeven moreas I cannot make enough he.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689877/ Do you know what it means to have a moment encapsulated and remain enthralled with an utterance for what seems a century?Or more?It isn't your voice or your beleaguered indiscretionit is not your rounded shoulders and body (language) speaking of consequential truthsits the way your words round my ha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689876/ I hear and seesoles grind small pebbles into night nighobscured flagstones, something young, a passerby, says                 “What are you doing? Old man"Stepping from the well-worn stoneto spongy dirtmoist leaves.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689874/ And with hot branding, I name the end, it is unknown Obadiah, it is uncompromising Demosthenes, it is ambuscaded Agamemnon, it is crafty Cain, it is able to pull lightning down from clouds to electrify a world beset upon by forces of great magnitude, vibrations ricochet off of each other, quak.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689872/ These are wordsand I change so muchwith this sword.Just by adding or rearranging, that is the strange thing.I perspire as you suspire, Engaging you olfactorily.Our day is melting hourly while you are looking at me sourly.From a long distance awayI can hear the luscious rain,when did being decrepit m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689871/ Sugar nightmares haunt childrenNancy harlequins cane themOh, child of mineyour life you did,away, sign.Force fed familiarity with already branded emotions, irregular realities and clouded surreal formalities, so very many humans’ form dichotomies out of our shared mute gray; spinning constant .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689870/ My name is Ben Lingemann and these are strange times-My Introversion is Innocuous, or so I keep telling myself.Solid soil means more to me.Hard granite rockcracked blue shalehot-weather hailshady characters.I heard a recession was coming to town.I'm watchful and stolid,waiting,ever vigilant,ever con.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689866/ The broken and the disheartened wander old roads with lost ideas,searching for deep morals to half forgotten truths.Chopping wood for a woman and her child,for payment being fed outside without trust,they may wish to be loved instead,in this world where they were so thrust.We are not as prolific as .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689865/ I wish to peer at Paris, under-dressed and dirty in all of its neoclassical splendor.For that, there are things I would give up.I wish to see a prehistoric forest, verdant, overgrown and jumbled.Before evergreen mysteries I would be ever humbled.For that, there are things I would give up.I wish to s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689864/ I've released my tight grip of earth and meandered off, aloftthe bobbing strangeAll of these lofty thoughts arrangedPressure from emotions like tectonic plates and all the strife it createsI needed to keep my feet on the ground,And keep these voices boundbut I continue throwing my ballasts ov.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689861/ Rails mime safety of man,                   and rules comfort you.     Authority stiffens your belief,out of this support comes power,and now above us so many tower. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689860/ There is no juice in your meatNo sweet to your thinNo beat in your heartNo wheel on your cartLittle love for your mindAnd these missives I have signedWith relish and gustoReligious ink writing - Irreligious rite inkingPages full of pelliculous thinkingMy pages, filled with the ridiculousThese are my.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689856/ I will feed you falsehood, calling it callous desire - you seed me with false gods and blame me for a child I did not sire.There are witches in your words, and they are burning down my holy places. I look out across our boundless lake and sit upon a throne built from bones of the long since rotted c.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689855/ I'm known for navel-gazing my way to elation, and am living in a country caught withinthe grips of frenzied matriculation.My insidiouslymalapert generation, my incessantly malcontent gene-nation.This is a Garden of Eden, Where is our guard of Eden?carefully removingall of the un-heathens.Plucking th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689854/ Am I alive?If you look at this life as whole;even though you cannot, -BZZZkkkSSt-Deaf ears and ignorant words flowing from the gleefully jabbering jaw.A rowdy room with a fat white man pointing to a smiling childs doom.Pontificating lifestyle changes to a junky indulgence and swift isolation all wit.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689852/ Day eleven, I'm missing you and I'm feeling like sinning, maybe I should start from the clement beginning.Day one, I see no more sun for I am alone contemplating how I accrete age and how many seeds I have sown.Day two, palimpsest problems weigh in heavy on my choices and my mind has many voices.Day.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ben-Lingemann/689850/