The Greatest Gift

In this day’n age,

The greatest gift,

That one can give, 

Is to take,

Another with,

To the forest,

The field or the river,

How many children,

Never receive such a privilege,

My parents, 

Understood this,

Perhaps,

Better than anyone,

And oh so thankful I am, 

They did.

- The Greatest Gift


Broken To Bits

Go!

Get out there.

Get broken to bits.

Pick up all the bits.

Put them back together again.

Go!

Get out there.

Get broken to bits.

Pick up all the bits.

Put them back together again.

- Repeat

F#$! Trump: The America In Which I Grew Up

I know this poem,

Won’t be popular with some,

But by the time I was 13 years old,

I owned three guns,

A 12 gauge with a plug for pheasant, geese and ducks,

A 22 for ground stalking rabbits, squirrels and grouse, 

And a BB for mucking about and learning how,

This was the America in which I grew up, 

I’m not sure if it was right or wrong,

And I’m not necessarily proud,

But it was a whole,

Heck of a lot of fun, 

And I know,

I’m not the only one.

- F#$! Trump: The America In Which I Grew Up

—

I wrote this poem during New Zealand’s +40 day lock down. More than anything, I think it offers a perspective of growing up on the brink of the urban / rural United States cityscape, and perhaps, introduces the notion that not everything with hunters, fisherman, conservationists and outdoors enthusiasts is necessarily straight forward in the US of A.

A common thread I hear suggested whilst living abroad is that U.S. Americans are just a bunch of power, money, hungry, grubby, racist, ignorant, disrespectful, gun owning idiots, which in my experience is untrue. The “America in which I grew up,” a privileged one indeed, was one in which my family and close friends enjoyed an unbridled and incredible sense of liberty and freedom, full of time spent outdoors in America’s most beautiful wild places that led to a childhood and education that I would not trade for anything. It was also one in which the adults I interacted with taught and practiced not only the utmost respect for all human beings and firearms (safety at the forefront), but also the natural world we were so fortunate to access at our literal door steps, something that the Trump administration threatens to take away more of every day (Watch Public Trust). I’ve never tried to explain my poetry before so there it goes… timely as it may be.

Only Love,

Benny Sip

Empty & Full

I’ve dug my ditches,

As well as, 

Had my fair share of “fifteen minutes.”

Been over there, 

Done all of that, 

Crisscrossed the globe, 

A few times over.

And no matter my status, 

Or how irrelevant I was,

I always ended up right back, 

Where I began.

Here,

Alone, 

On my own, 

With no thing to hold.

- Both Empty & Full

Like A Duck

My experience says, 

That “this world” will attempt to turn you into a pessimistic, skeptical, cynic. 

“This world” will spill itself all over you. In ways that you could have never imagined. 

Negativity. Envy. Jealously. You name it. Pure hatred.

Let it run. Water off your back, like a mallard. 

Remaining courageous, calm and trustworthy, knowing that there is good - real good - in this world.

Outweighing the seemingly incessant evil, that at all costs, it will attempt to pour on. 

But remember, be a fucking duck. Water of your back.

- Like A Duck  


Something To Be Said

There is certainly something to be said about being,

  1. Calm

  2. Cool

  3. Collected

  4. And calculated

Detached

From anything and everything

Free and forever flowing.

- Like The River

The man in the arena

Let me ask?

Have you ever poured your entire being into something in attempts to “make it happen?”

I have.

How about you?

Because in my opinion, you either have or “have not.”

And in my experience, it is most often the “have nots,” that have a lot to say.

As they sit, clutching warm cups, comfortably on life’s touch lines,

Muttering at the work of those with worn out sleeves,

Pouring their hearts and souls into the work that must be done, for the world to see.

- Inspired by Theo Roosevelt’s “The Man In The Arena”