"i only doused myself in gasoline when you handed me that match because i was tired of being a metaphor i mean, why is it always about burning? we never did find that bridge" omg
I recognised her voice but I couldn't recognise your face. I looked through the poems I had saved and going hers, explains depression to my mother. Seeing her now, the way her hair falls and the colour in her checks, she looks so much healthier. I see the flicker of hope within her eye now. She has come so far and I'm glad to see this. Thank you, for giving me hope
what i love about sabrina is that she doesn't even realise how wonderful not just a poet but a person she is. i messaged her on tumblr and she replied so warm and positively and honestly like she made my day and didn't even know it. i love her so much, she is a true credit to the planet and i'm so grateful she shares her beautiful mind with us all.
“I plucked a daisy in Kentucky It told me that you loved me so I left your love there There in the dancing through, dancing around, there in the spot where I buried my expectations and the wanting of it all You know the truth hurts less when it is not parading around in front of us.” This absolutely destroyed my soul. It’s so hauntingly beautiful and speaks to every neuron in my body, I felt like I was the one doused in gasoline, set ablaze atop a pile of memories that made me mad. You’re so amazing Sabrina. Thank you for what you do.
Did you think about adding the words of poems in the decription box? I know there is a CC option, but the lyrics there aren't always right. For me, as a foreign watcher, it is sometimes hard to understand the words while just hearing them. The poetry here is too good to not be understood in 100%!
It’s a year later and I always find myself coming back to this specific poem. I love all of Sabrina’s work, but this one holds a special place in my heart.
A wink and a crooked smile, chorus of cracking knuckles, a concert of injuries. The fireflies, bats, june bugs, a I, we all saw you watching. The crickets chirped grateful for the angel’s share like goddamn, this air tastes delicious. Speaking of bourbon, Kentucky was barrels on barrels, an old-fashioned ‘yes please, cornmeal-fried catfish’, clocks with Roman numerals, and the street lamps, blugh, the street lamps, wrap around porches, the porch swings, the American flag - look, I know. There is nothing romantic about colonialism. But there was something about that architecture, right, that whispered sticky-sweet nothing, and I was stuck in the roundabout. I was inside looking out finally, see, I had been going in circles, swallowing words, dizzy, I had to lie down before the church at midnight. I had to lay time flat and still, the treetops, fireflies bats, june bugs, and I, we all stood watching the ghost ships of light sail the sea-sky. Silent treatment. The fantastic devastation of unwanted silence, that heavy slink, how it hangs with purpose, the mean easy. My tongue is well trained in the sit-still, it’s my hands that can’t keep a secret. My legs too eager to run into the music, so I went looking for our bridge to burn. And a riverbank to drown the flames, to stifle the heat, Kentucky was hot. All barefoot blue flame, and I wouldn’t say I could see the music, but the music could see me. Bare-boned wind chime, bare skin dunked in full moon feelings, swimming pool daydreams, the sticky hands of lust, tiptoeing earthquake, how it was always but never the right time. One might have found me akin to a scoop of ice cream atop soda-pop bubbles, light as air without care for the impending melt. I plucked a daisy in Kentucky. It told me that you loved me, so I left your love there. There in the dancing around, dancing through, dancing on the spot, where I buried my expectations, and the wanting of it all. You know the truth hurts less when it is not parading around in front of us. Love, the great and handsome, terrible beast, trace me back to it by a trail of smoke. See I only doused myself in gasoline when you handed me that match because I was tired of being a metaphor. I mean, why is it always about burning? We never did find that bridge. Never burnt it down. In Kentucky, there is a pile of bricks I could not use to measure the space between us. I don’t bother trying to do that anymore. There’s this condition called the rapture of the deep. It’s when a deep-sea diver spends too much time at the bottom of the ocean and cannot tell which way is up. You have always been asleep in a different bed in the same room. Kentucky felt like impossible nostalgia. And I saw you looking back. That’s it, I remember, I saw you looking back because I was looking forward. And my jaw was a clenched fist I could not throw because the truth hurts loudest when you toss it around and the echo, the echo is what drives girls like me mad with remembering.
Hiiiiioouoouoogogluooiiogio I io uoiijoooookuui I hogijoigijoigojjojoba uoolgiguioiijiugoioiiogiii hhhi loo kolhouijiiGigi ugijoooghiI I uoiiiooologooi oookj okogiioioogu I kool iiiioioioioooooiiioogokkjuiioioioiooujuoiooookgoioi no iuioojiooiooiooiokiioiioiiooooiiioooi oliolkuoiiouogokiooihoioiioioiiiiioioijooiijioioouoioooioiooooiiiiookijoioioiioiioioiioiiouo i giioihow uoioioiiogiioooo ogiooiiioouooiuoooiiioohoioiohcooiooocigciiiiioiicoiioiiooogl kojgiioiiioioioiji uciocogiciiiiiiiiioioiioiiiioookkjuoogoggiooic hooping I iiigjigjgjjokigi kool iiijigi I ioooopkioioigiooiih in ii
after listening to this piece the first time I was dizzy, drowning in the lovely language. after listening to this piece for the 10th time, I now know, it was no fluke, I still feel that way, still celebrate the various and lovely ways that Sabrina approaches language
I cannot express my gratitude to you in words for uploading this. I wish I could meet this woman - she defines the word magic to me. I am not fond of idols and mentors but she is the one I wish to emulate. 🍻 to Sarah Benaim, the wonder woman. I hope to see more of her!
Miguel Cisneros she is an amazing hugger and one of the best people I know, she's honestly my idol and I feel so lucky to have been taught by her at camp
holy shit. here is the thing. I constantly look for that thing that will really cause me to stand up at cheer, rarely do I find it. today I found it. it is this poem. bravo!!
Finally found the famous tumblr quote. The beauty of the metaphors. Never knew where it came from but my my it hit deep. Glad to finally be able to hear it. It sounds so beautiful 💜
I'm not sure if it's correct because I just wrote down what I heard. A wink and a cricket smile,chorus of cracking knuckles,a concert of injuries.The fireflies,bats,Jun bugs and I,we all saw you watching,the crickets tripped greyful for the angels share like goddamn this air taste delicious.Speaking of bervin,kentucky was barrels on barrels and old fashion,Yes please,corn meal fried catfish.Clocks with roaming numerals and the street lamps,wah,the street lamps wrapped around the porches,the porch swings,the American flag.Look,I know there is nothing romantic about colonialism, but there was something about that architecture right that whispered sweet sticky nothing and I was stuck in roundabout.I was inside looking out finally see.I had been going in circles,swallowing words dizzy.I had to lie down before church at midnight I had laytime flat and still the treetops.Fireflies,bats,jun bugs and I,all stood watching the goships of lake sail the sea sky.Silent treatment the fantastic devastation of unwanted silence that heavy slink how it hangs with purpose the mean easy.My tongue is well trained in sit stills,its my hands that can't keep a secret.My legs to eager to run into the music so I went looking for our bridge to burn,and a river bank to drown the flame steful the heat.Kentucky was hot all barefoot blue flame.I wouldn't say I count see that music but the music could see me.Barebone windchime,bare skin dunked in fullmoon feelings,swimming pool dreams,the sticky hands of lust,tip toeing earthquake, how it was always but never the right time.One might have found me akin to scoop of ice top soda pop bubbles,laid as air without care for the impending melt.I plucked a daisy in kentucky.You told me that you loved me so I left our love there.There in the dancing around,dancing through ,dancing on the spot where I burried my expectations and wanting of it all .You know the truth hurts less when it not parading around in front of us.Love,the great and handsome terrible beast by a trail of smoke. See,I know doused myself in gasoline when you handed me that match because I was tired of being a metaphor.I mean why is it always about burning?we never did find that bridge,never burnt it down.In kentucky there is a pile of brick I could not use to measure the distance between us.I don't bother trying to do that anymore.There's this condition called the rapture of the deep so when a deep sea divers spend too much time at the bottom of the ocean and cannot tel which way is up.You have always been asleep in a different bed in the same room. Kentucky felt like impossible nostalgia and I saw you looking back,thats it! I remember,I saw you looking back because I was looking forward amd my jaw was a clenched fist I could not throw because the truth hurts loudest when you toss it around in the echo.The echo is what drives girls like me mad with remembering.
"See I only doused myself in gasoline when you handed me that match because I was tired of being a metaphor. I mean, why is it always about burning? We never did find that bridge."-Sabrina Benaim
I got this notification the second I finished writing my own slam poem. I swear poetry is literally the best thing that has ever happened to me!! Also does anyone know where I can preform for @buttonpoetry in England?
Eva Makande If you enjoy reading or listening to poetry you may be moved by my book of dark poetry inspired by the darkest days in my life. facebook.com/darknessbeforethedawn.com If you order a copy directly through me I'll autograph it for you.
A wink and a crooked smile. Chorus of cracking knuckles, a concert of injuries. The fireflies, bats, june bugs and I we all saw you watching. The cricket stripped grateful for the Angels share like "goddamn, this air tastes delicious". Speaking of bourbon, Kentucky was barrels on barrels, an old-fashioned "yes, please" cornmeal fried catfish. Clocks with Roman numerals and the street lamps, wha, the street lamps! Wraparound porches, the porch swings, the American flag... Look I know there is nothing romantic about colonialism, but there was something about that architecture right that whispered sticky-sweet nothing and I was stuck in the roundabout. I was inside looking out, finally see I had been going in circles, swallowing words. Dizzy, I had to lie down before the church at midnight. I had to lay time flat and still the treetops. Fireflies, bats, june bugs and I, we all stood watching the go ships of light sail the sea sky. Silent-treatment, the fantastic devastation of unwanted silence that heavy slink. How it hangs with purpose the mean easy. My tongue is well-trained in the sit still, it's my hands that can't keep a secret. My legs too eager to run into the music, so I went looking for our bridge to burn, and a riverbank to drown the flames to stifle the heat. Kentucky was hot, all barefoot, blue flame and I wouldn't see. I could see the music, but the music couldn't see me. Bare bone, wind chime, bear skin, dunked in full moon feelings. Swimming pool, daydreams, the sticky hands of lust tiptoeing, earthquake how it was always, but never the right time. One might have found me akin to a scoop of ice cream atop soda pop bubbles light as air without care for the impending melt. I plucked a daisy in Kentucky. It told me that you loved me, so I left your love there. There in the dancing around, dancing through dancing on the spot where I buried my expectations and the wanting of it all. You know the truth hurts less when it is not parading around in front of us. Love, the great and handsome terrible beast, traced me back to it by a trail of smoke. See I only doused myself in gasoline when you handed me that match because I was tired of being a metaphor. I mean, why is it always about burning? We never did find that bridge, never burned it down. In Kentucky there is a pile of bricks I could not use to measure the space between us. I don't bother trying to do that anymore. There's this condition called the rapture of the deep. It's when a deep-sea diver spends too much time at the bottom of the ocean and cannot tell which way is up. You have always been asleep in a different bed in the same room. Kentucky felt like impossible nostalgia, and I saw you looking back. That's it, I remember. I saw you looking back because I was looking forward, and my jaw was a clenched fist I could not throw because the truth hurts loudest when you toss it around. And the echo... the echo is what drives girls like me mad with remembering.
I really enjoyed it even though I understood the 20% of it as i have started the c1 English level 2 months ago and it's quite difficult to me to understand but it is still amazing
My tongue is well trained in the "sit still, " it's my hands that can't keep a secret My legs too eager to run into the music so I went looking for our bridge to burn
"i only doused myself in gasoline when you handed me that match because i was tired of being a metaphor
i mean, why is it always about burning?
we never did find that bridge"
omg
Robbie Martin can you explain it to me please
I recognised her voice but I couldn't recognise your face. I looked through the poems I had saved and going hers, explains depression to my mother. Seeing her now, the way her hair falls and the colour in her checks, she looks so much healthier. I see the flicker of hope within her eye now. She has come so far and I'm glad to see this. Thank you, for giving me hope
instaBlaster.
I absolutely recognize her voice after her first word. What is the poem you are referring to? Anyone know??
@@jess_jeff7549 "depression: a conversation with my mother" or something along those lines. Its very beautiful!
@jess_jeff7549 the poem they're referring to is called "explaining depression to my mother"
She's one of my favorite spoken word poets ahhh this is amazing
Keep an eye out for her debut book, "Depression & Other Magic Tricks", coming out on our press later this year!
+Button Poetry omg she wrote a book! I'm so excited is there any specific date I should look forward to?
Button Poetry im excited!!!
Not as of yet, but follow us and her on social media (@buttonpoetry, @badass_sab) and you'll see the announcements. Aiming for early fall.
Yes! My top 5 are: Blythe Baird, Sabrina Benaim, Sarah Kay, Jeanann Verlee and Kate Hao
what i love about sabrina is that she doesn't even realise how wonderful not just a poet but a person she is. i messaged her on tumblr and she replied so warm and positively and honestly like she made my day and didn't even know it. i love her so much, she is a true credit to the planet and i'm so grateful she shares her beautiful mind with us all.
"See, I only doused myself in gasoline when you handed me that match because I was tired of being a metaphor. I mean, why is it always about burning?"
“I plucked a daisy in Kentucky
It told me that you loved me so I left your love there
There in the dancing through, dancing around, there in the spot where I buried my expectations and the wanting of it all
You know the truth hurts less when it is not parading around in front of us.”
This absolutely destroyed my soul. It’s so hauntingly beautiful and speaks to every neuron in my body, I felt like I was the one doused in gasoline, set ablaze atop a pile of memories that made me mad.
You’re so amazing Sabrina. Thank you for what you do.
Did you think about adding the words of poems in the decription box? I know there is a CC option, but the lyrics there aren't always right. For me, as a foreign watcher, it is sometimes hard to understand the words while just hearing them. The poetry here is too good to not be understood in 100%!
"And I wouldn't say I could see the music... But the music could see me."
"How it is always but never the right time.."
“I had to lie time flat and still the tree tops” is my fav line. Awesome!
I absolutely love Sabrina, she is one one the main reasons why I started spoken word
It’s a year later and I always find myself coming back to this specific poem. I love all of Sabrina’s work, but this one holds a special place in my heart.
she's the first person i ever heard do spoken word poetry and i have been stuck inlove ever since
A wink and a crooked smile,
chorus of cracking knuckles,
a concert of injuries. The fireflies,
bats, june bugs, a I, we all saw you
watching. The crickets chirped
grateful for the angel’s share like
goddamn, this air tastes delicious.
Speaking of bourbon, Kentucky
was barrels on barrels, an old-fashioned
‘yes please, cornmeal-fried catfish’,
clocks with Roman numerals, and the
street lamps, blugh, the street lamps,
wrap around porches, the porch swings,
the American flag - look, I know.
There is nothing romantic about colonialism.
But there was something about that architecture,
right, that whispered sticky-sweet nothing,
and I was stuck in the roundabout. I was inside
looking out finally, see, I had been going in
circles, swallowing words, dizzy, I had to lie
down before the church at midnight. I had
to lay time flat and still, the treetops, fireflies
bats, june bugs, and I, we all stood watching
the ghost ships of light sail the sea-sky.
Silent treatment. The fantastic devastation
of unwanted silence, that heavy slink,
how it hangs with purpose, the mean easy.
My tongue is well trained in the sit-still,
it’s my hands that can’t keep a secret.
My legs too eager to run into the music,
so I went looking for our bridge to burn.
And a riverbank to drown the flames,
to stifle the heat, Kentucky was hot. All
barefoot blue flame, and I wouldn’t say I could
see the music, but the music could see me.
Bare-boned wind chime, bare skin dunked
in full moon feelings, swimming pool
daydreams, the sticky hands of lust,
tiptoeing earthquake, how it was always
but never the right time. One might have
found me akin to a scoop of ice cream
atop soda-pop bubbles, light as air
without care for the impending melt.
I plucked a daisy in Kentucky.
It told me that you loved me, so
I left your love there. There in the
dancing around, dancing through,
dancing on the spot, where I buried
my expectations, and the wanting
of it all. You know the truth hurts less
when it is not parading around in front
of us. Love, the great and handsome,
terrible beast, trace me back to it
by a trail of smoke. See I only doused
myself in gasoline when you handed me
that match because I was tired of being
a metaphor. I mean, why is it always
about burning? We never did find that
bridge. Never burnt it down. In Kentucky,
there is a pile of bricks I could not use to
measure the space between us. I don’t
bother trying to do that anymore.
There’s this condition called the rapture
of the deep. It’s when a deep-sea
diver spends too much time at
the bottom of the ocean and cannot
tell which way is up. You have always
been asleep in a different bed in the
same room. Kentucky felt like impossible
nostalgia. And I saw you looking back.
That’s it, I remember, I saw you looking
back because I was looking forward.
And my jaw was a clenched fist I
could not throw because the truth
hurts loudest when you toss it around
and the echo, the echo is what drives
girls like me mad with remembering.
Hiiiiioouoouoogogluooiiogio I io uoiijoooookuui I hogijoigijoigojjojoba uoolgiguioiijiugoioiiogiii hhhi loo kolhouijiiGigi ugijoooghiI I uoiiiooologooi oookj okogiioioogu I kool iiiioioioioooooiiioogokkjuiioioioiooujuoiooookgoioi no iuioojiooiooiooiokiioiioiiooooiiioooi oliolkuoiiouogokiooihoioiioioiiiiioioijooiijioioouoioooioiooooiiiiookijoioioiioiioioiioiiouo i giioihow uoioioiiogiioooo ogiooiiioouooiuoooiiioohoioiohcooiooocigciiiiioiicoiioiiooogl kojgiioiiioioioiji uciocogiciiiiiiiiioioiioiiiioookkjuoogoggiooic hooping I iiigjigjgjjokigi kool iiijigi I ioooopkioioigiooiih in ii
Ffixifcccyxigf
I’m ccxicxo
X ix
I’m XX Cd cdo
YES SHE'S BACK
after listening to this piece the first time I was dizzy, drowning in the lovely language. after listening to this piece for the 10th time, I now know, it was no fluke, I still feel that way, still celebrate the various and lovely ways that Sabrina approaches language
"You have always been asleep in a different bed
in the same room"
YES, SHE'S BACK!!
Keep an eye out for her debut book, "Depression & Other Magic Tricks", coming out on our press later this year!
YESSS cant wait
just her voice alone❤
"and the echo...the echo is what drives girls like me mad with remembering"
"We never did find that bridge. Never burnt it down."
She's such a ray of sunshine. A true gift to the world ❤
I am in love. She is so deep, poetic, articulate, charismatic and so much more
"you have always been asleep in a different bed in the same room" that hit me hard
It took me two listenings to understand this one. Worth it.
What did you get from it?
"I went looking for our bridge to burn" nice
She is my favorite spoken word poet
Sabrina is my favorite , I swear!!!
Drawn to this video by the title. Didn't know I'd be in store for something soo different. Looove it!!!!
She's so talented and intelligent. What a beautiful soul.
More than well written, I'm sure I won't forget this one any time soon. I had to listen to this again straight away to soak it all in...
I listen to this everyday. It speaks to me. And I'm always sad when it ends.
I cannot express my gratitude to you in words for uploading this. I wish I could meet this woman - she defines the word magic to me. I am not fond of idols and mentors but she is the one I wish to emulate. 🍻 to Sarah Benaim, the wonder woman. I hope to see more of her!
can I just like
marry her
or be her
or something
I want to give her a hug. I feel like she would give good hugs
I got to hug her: she gives amazing hugs
Miguel Cisneros she is an amazing hugger and one of the best people I know, she's honestly my idol and I feel so lucky to have been taught by her at camp
U wanna be cross eyed?
I adore her. Her poetry is wonderful. Much love
I really want to be her friend. She is such an inspiration to me.
This is one of my favorite poems. Ever.
I LOVE HER, everything about her is AMAZING
SHE'S BACK . THIS IS BEAUTIFUL
holy shit. here is the thing. I constantly look for that thing that will really cause me to stand up at cheer, rarely do I find it. today I found it. it is this poem. bravo!!
My favorite of her poems
And this is why I'm subscribed.......love her words 👏👏
I'm new to poetry but she's already one of my favorites!
she speaks my thoughts in such a great way
This poem friggin wrecks me every time. Every time! we're living parallel lives I think.
this is my favorite spoken word poem i love sabrina
I just love her voice
Finally found the famous tumblr quote. The beauty of the metaphors. Never knew where it came from but my my it hit deep. Glad to finally be able to hear it. It sounds so beautiful 💜
She is my favorite.
I pushed like button before watching this..coz I know this is one of the best..
❤i swear she's my favorite poet. she's so inspiring
AMAZING. I love this so much.
I'm not sure if it's correct because I just wrote down what I heard.
A wink and a cricket smile,chorus of cracking knuckles,a concert of injuries.The fireflies,bats,Jun bugs and I,we all saw you watching,the crickets tripped greyful for the angels share like goddamn this air taste delicious.Speaking of bervin,kentucky was barrels on barrels and old fashion,Yes please,corn meal fried catfish.Clocks with roaming numerals and the street lamps,wah,the street lamps wrapped around the porches,the porch swings,the American flag.Look,I know there is nothing romantic about colonialism, but there was something about that architecture right that whispered sweet sticky nothing and I was stuck in roundabout.I was inside looking out finally see.I had been going in circles,swallowing words dizzy.I had to lie down before church at midnight I had laytime flat and still the treetops.Fireflies,bats,jun bugs and I,all stood watching the goships of lake sail the sea sky.Silent treatment the fantastic devastation of unwanted silence that heavy slink how it hangs with purpose the mean easy.My tongue is well trained in sit stills,its my hands that can't keep a secret.My legs to eager to run into the music so I went looking for our bridge to burn,and a river bank to drown the flame steful the heat.Kentucky was hot all barefoot blue flame.I wouldn't say I count see that music but the music could see me.Barebone windchime,bare skin dunked in fullmoon feelings,swimming pool dreams,the sticky hands of lust,tip toeing earthquake, how it was always but never the right time.One might have found me akin to scoop of ice top soda pop bubbles,laid as air without care for the impending melt.I plucked a daisy in kentucky.You told me that you loved me so I left our love there.There in the dancing around,dancing through ,dancing on the spot where I burried my expectations and wanting of it all .You know the truth hurts less when it not parading around in front of us.Love,the great and handsome terrible beast by a trail of smoke. See,I know doused myself in gasoline when you handed me that match because I was tired of being a metaphor.I mean why is it always about burning?we never did find that bridge,never burnt it down.In kentucky there is a pile of brick I could not use to measure the distance between us.I don't bother trying to do that anymore.There's this condition called the rapture of the deep so when a deep sea divers spend too much time at the bottom of the ocean and cannot tel which way is up.You have always been asleep in a different bed in the same room. Kentucky felt like impossible nostalgia and I saw you looking back,thats it! I remember,I saw you looking back because I was looking forward amd my jaw was a clenched fist I could not throw because the truth hurts loudest when you toss it around in the echo.The echo is what drives girls like me mad with remembering.
A wink and a crooked smile :)
"I plucked a daisy in Kentucky, it told me that you loved me so I left your love there" (:
my favorite poet!
She's my favourite!
"See I only doused
myself in gasoline
when you handed me
that match because I was tired of being
a metaphor.
I mean, why is it always
about burning? We never did find that
bridge."-Sabrina Benaim
She's really good love the enthusiasm very natural
I got her book and it is absolutely amazing!!
+Jarrod Prinsloo glad you enjoyed it!
I got this notification the second I finished writing my own slam poem. I swear poetry is literally the best thing that has ever happened to me!! Also does anyone know where I can preform for @buttonpoetry in England?
Eva Makande If you enjoy reading or listening to poetry you may be moved by my book of dark poetry inspired by the darkest days in my life.
facebook.com/darknessbeforethedawn.com
If you order a copy directly through me I'll autograph it for you.
"The truth hurts loudest when you toss it around and the echo, the echo is what drives girls like me mad with remembering."
This is absolutely beautiful
I love this so much!
A wink and a crooked smile.
Chorus of cracking knuckles, a concert of injuries.
The fireflies, bats, june bugs and I we all saw you watching.
The cricket stripped grateful for the Angels share like "goddamn, this air tastes delicious".
Speaking of bourbon, Kentucky was barrels on barrels, an old-fashioned "yes, please" cornmeal fried catfish.
Clocks with Roman numerals and the street lamps, wha, the street lamps!
Wraparound porches, the porch swings, the American flag...
Look I know there is nothing romantic about colonialism, but there was something about that architecture right that whispered sticky-sweet nothing and I was stuck in the roundabout.
I was inside looking out, finally see I had been going in circles, swallowing words.
Dizzy, I had to lie down before the church at midnight.
I had to lay time flat and still the treetops. Fireflies, bats, june bugs and I, we all stood watching the go ships of light sail the sea sky.
Silent-treatment, the fantastic devastation of unwanted silence that heavy slink. How it hangs with purpose the mean easy.
My tongue is well-trained in the sit still, it's my hands that can't keep a secret.
My legs too eager to run into the music, so I went looking for our bridge to burn, and a riverbank to drown the flames to stifle the heat.
Kentucky was hot, all barefoot, blue flame and I wouldn't see. I could see the music, but the music couldn't see me. Bare bone, wind chime, bear skin, dunked in full moon feelings.
Swimming pool, daydreams, the sticky hands of lust tiptoeing, earthquake how it was always, but never the right time.
One might have found me akin to a scoop of ice cream atop soda pop bubbles light as air without care for the impending melt.
I plucked a daisy in Kentucky.
It told me that you loved me, so I left your love there. There in the dancing around, dancing through dancing on the spot where I buried my expectations and the wanting of it all.
You know the truth hurts less when it is not parading around in front of us.
Love, the great and handsome terrible beast, traced me back to it by a trail of smoke.
See I only doused myself in gasoline when you handed me that match because I was tired of being a metaphor.
I mean, why is it always about burning? We never did find that bridge, never burned it down.
In Kentucky there is a pile of bricks I could not use to measure the space between us. I don't bother trying to do that anymore.
There's this condition called the rapture of the deep. It's when a deep-sea diver spends too much time at the bottom of the ocean and cannot tell which way is up.
You have always been asleep in a different bed in the same room. Kentucky felt like impossible nostalgia, and I saw you looking back. That's it, I remember. I saw you looking back because I was looking forward, and my jaw was a clenched fist I could not throw because the truth hurts loudest when you toss it around.
And the echo... the echo is what drives girls like me mad with remembering.
she is my favorite, does she have any social media to follow her on??
twitter, instagram @badass_sab
Helpfulreality she also has a tumblr: sabrinabenaim
I love this so much.
ahhhhhhh sabrina. she's so rad. yay
"My tongue is well trained in the sit still, it's my hands that can't keep a secret" 🌙🌻
Amazing!!
living in kentucky, this feels more like words from a different mouth but a shared heart
YEESSS! THANK YOU!:D
Beautiful. I would really love to know how some people interpreted this poem?
I saw you looking back, cause I was looking forward 💕
Beautiful and so talented.
*I love her*
I really enjoyed it even though I understood the 20% of it as i have started the c1 English level 2 months ago and it's quite difficult to me to understand but it is still amazing
does anyone have a transcript of her poem? i love it so much i couldnt pick a favorite line!
i liked the video even before i watched it
that was so good oh man it made mE FEEL SOME HOW i dont have a big enough vocabulary to explain it
Beautiful 💜
The last part hit me hard
my fav!!!!!!!
i'm always thinking about this
the "yeah" at the end was me
Deep!
I LOVE HER
OMG SABRINAAAA
I love her.
Wow she's awesome
My tongue is well trained in the "sit still, " it's my hands that can't keep a secret
My legs too eager to run into the music so I went looking for our bridge to burn
Sabrina is my fave
i love her❤
She's my favourite
She sounds amazing even thought i cant understand a think she's saying
can anyone explain what she is trying to say in this poem? I've listened through a couple times and I still just cant fully grasp it
sOO GOOD!
just wow
This was preformed at the most recent button poetry live right
Mr. Podcastman yeeeeee
love this.
I was there.
beautiful
LOVE YOU SABRINA