#benjamin prosser

[blackspotben]

This apart I've no business with you

I want to be sure of my subject

I hold this flower of battle

This poem, this theft

I hold this microphone

To amplify this my thieved voice

This is sheer verse willed into being

To bring you to believe

To drag you into this triangle

This walled word tower

This Pyramid of Bribes

I hold this slice of self

This metal stand in hand

This metal fork to throat you

To pierce and bore you

To broadcast up up up

on the air's back

This voice

and with the seal on my soul

thus peeled

I may walk this stage

barefoot and brave.

[blackspotben]

[blackspotben]

The candle's flame is still burning, the flower's are on fire, I need advice from an astrologer on why I can't paint, on why I can't seduce, I need a new fable to believe in, I need a wise man to help me out, to understand my childhood, to feel touched by grace, to make love with an angel who will look, question and spread her wings wide, bear me up and never let me fall.

We'll pass over my past arm in arm, laugh at the joy of waving farewell to impasse and neurosis, to longing, jealousy and hatred, to set sail on a voyage of love without equal.

Benjamin Prosser - Voice, Guitar and Digital Effects.

[blackspotben]

Oh no don't come calling

Oh no don't call no more

Heed me, heed the warning

I hear ghosts they're at my door

They're at my door

Speak low say you love me

speak low or speak no more

heed me heed the warning

I hear angels through the floor

They say

'Your ox will calve

you'll feel that pain no more,

the sentence speaks your mouth

like never before,

death is just a lifetime away,

death is just a lifetime away,

your ox will calve

and you will find a way'

Dream oh dream a lifetime

Dream now your dreams can't wait

Sleep well, sleep a lifetime

find yourself at heaven's gate.

Benjamin Prosser - Spanish Guitar and Vocals

Ed Deegan - Oscillator

Recorded at the Gizzard 2011

[blackspotben]

The Blue Mustache (for Jakov Lind)

On Pepys’ Mountain with a one armed skeleton;  a faithful pet of mine, exactly perfect with a blue mustache.  My name is Benjamin, I have grey skin and I’m carrying this poem for Jakov Lind, built of him, taut in theft.  

We journey through the night, for a second time, toward Deptford, losing our way nonetheless, a country mile wayward.  Both born in old days, born in fear.

There is a voice, slow rising, a squat sound, the sound of deep water, a voice black as coal yet somehow silver as God’s throne.  This language is a problem, no doubt about it. We walk on.

Sentences speak, trailing back toward the Lewisham cubes before descending three flights down.  An underworld.

I will awake from this, back at Pepys; bald, myopic, mouthing the salvaged parts worth having, set it on the stove, will it to grow, step outside and switch tongues.

2013

[the-unsui-blog]

An hour long interview by writer Michael Freerix on Berlin's Reboot FM with Benjamin about his work and influences.

[the-unsui-blog]

Chardine Taylor Stone's film collage for Joe Byrd's Kalyani