If the World Should End 

By Benjamin Shapiro
Going to stretch myself awake 

Cobwebs I need to shake,

Big cuppa, I take it black,

No more looking back 

As I run towards the sun’s rays,

Because if the world shall end tomorrow,

I’ll live for today. 
Picnic lunch with my lovely wife,

Nothing wrong in my life,

Boats can capsize

Waters can rise, 

I’ll just swim and play,

Because if the world shall end tomorrow,

I’ll live for today. 
Kids hear bedtime stories

To alleviate their worries, 

Through the air missiles dash,

Landing with a flash, 

And with my girls I will stay,

Because if the world shall end tomorrow, 

I’ll live for today. 
It’s all over now,

Without a whimper, but a pow,

Window’s closed,  no more bets,

But there are even less regrets,

For the world ended today,

But I lived yesterday.


Evening Prayer 

By Benjamin Shapiro
May the world wake peacefully in the morn,

May the downtrodden be reborn,

May the sun shine on this earth,

And the evil experience rebirth, 

May we all love each other tomorrow, 

Banishing hatred and sorrow,

And may the rains wash away

The dirt and tears of today,

To whomever is listening I pray.


By Benjamin Shapiro
The space between 

Misanthrope and empath

Is very thin,

Feelings weigh down sparse string,

Sympathy bent becomes wrath. 

Wrath, an easy sin. 

Anger isn’t hate

At least not right away,

Not until it’s to late,

The string frays. 

Then breaks

Empathy shakes

Hatred takes

A strong hold. 

The tale is old:

Exhausted stars explode.

Sense Memories Nonsense 

By Benjamin Shapiro
Heard a song from my youth,

It smelled of cigarettes and whiskey

Tasted of unspoken truths

Felt like exploits risky 

But didn’t feel that way

In those youthful days

Where mortality stayed

Far, far away

And we swayed

Drunkenly to songs,

Masculine and strong 

All night long;

Back before it went wrong. 

And I look back,

Try to paint it black, 

But in truth it was good. 

Life, then, was very good.

The Misanthrope 

By Benjamin Shapiro
The beauty of the misanthrope 

Is that, to all sides, he says nope. 

Liberal, hippies, hate you all;

Conservative Nazis, your ideas are balls. 

Give to your charity, probably not. 

As far as he’s concerned, you all can rot,

For the misanthrope sees you’re all full of it,

And he’s completely tired of your shit.

Be Careful What You Work Towards

by Ben Shapiro 
He had dreamed his whole life of this: time travel. Ironically, the very technological leaps which were making this trip possible were the reason he wanted to travel back. The world had become encumbered by too much communication, too much information, too much artificial intelligence. The human mind wasn’t ready for this and society had become a Hobbesian nightmare. Benjamin Moorehouse dreamed of leaving this cold, electronic world behind and travelling to the world of which Herman Melville wrote, or even the British countryside of Thomas Hardy. As he flipped switches on the console, he thought of a world where one could be anonymous and flit in and out of stories, building his life as he saw fit. His heart fluttered with the anticipation as he stepped into the chamber. The machine hummed calmly as the door closed behind him. Suddenly, he was gone. 
At the same moment, a tombstone appeared at the cemetery across town. Nobody noticed, it was as if it had been there the whole time. It read:
Benjamin Moorehouse

???- 1820

Showed Up Out of Nowhere

Died Soonafter of Dysentery 
The End


By Benjamin Shapiro
I want to smell decomposing leaves as I sit

Drinking a dark brown cup of aromatic coffee

The scents intertwining to warm the soul

As the brisk morning fills the heart with

Wakeful thoughts. 

I want apple butter on toast, bought from

An orchard overflowing with beautiful 

Apples as pork stews on stove and

Pumpkin becomes pie. 

I want family meals that 

Stick to ribs in preparation

For impending winter frost as

Logs thrown on fire blaze,

Crackling out the song of Prometheus. 
I want Autumn.

Rocket Turd

By Benjamin Shapiro
I sat on the throne, 

Happy and alone,

Waiting for things to move. 

I watched some netflix 

And looked at some pics,

Everything was going smooth. 

Suddenly hit a gas pocket,

Turd shot out like a rocket,

And, then, off of the seat I flew. 

I looked beyond my behind,

The sight blew my mind,

That fast turd had destroyed my loo.

Bawdy Bard 

By Benjamin Shapiro
For e’ery thou and thine you hear,

The bard will chug another beer,

And hence will drunk be before long,

Entertaining you with bawdy song, 

About young man from Nantucket,

Not the man who sail’d in bucket,

But who’s member was of such size

To keep the wenches mesmerized

And as barroom erupts with laughter

He drinks another strong pint after

Which he strikes a minor chord

And taps his toes upon floorboard 

And sings a song so bittersweet,

‘Bout lovelorn boy, ’tis replete

With a love that’s unrequited, 

So the young man, feeling slighted,

Jumps off a cliff to his demise, 

The bard pauses, soaks up cries, 

Then he smiles and tells more,

The young man fell upon a whore

Who, passing by, was quite surprised

At saving young man from demise

And so she took him home to sup

And offered him her mewling cup

And when he partook of her wares,

He jumped up, naked, and declared, 

“If this is the love for which I yearn,

Count me out, because it burns.”

And, drunken now, the bard drinks again,

Passes out. And that’s the end.


By Benjamin Shapiro
That sunlight shone 

In sepia tone

As moonlight made its way

Across the golden rays,

Confused cicada sang its song

As shadows ceased being long

And birds hid away to sleep 

As luna breathed a sigh so deep

So to blot out afternoon, 

Becoming one, the sun and moon,

And people lay upon a field 

Celebrating sunshine’s yield

Dancing, cheering lunacy,

Fear from human infancy

That night eternal would now fall,

Preceding ancient Demon Ball. 

Spared an ancient goddess’ wrath,

The moon continued on its path,

Rays spilled back from darkness’ grip,

Thus came the end of the eclipse.