My Attempt at Free Verse Poetry

Smiling on Cue

By: Ben Draiman

Children don’t smile on cue.

They screw up their faces in what could pass for a smile,

But it’s clearly an empty gesture.

They don’t smile for the cameras,

They don’t smile for the family or the strangers,

They don’t smile when they’ve been naughty

To mask their obvious guilt

And they don’t smile politely

Moments after being offended.

Oh, but children do smile

They laugh, they play, they sing so we may hear them.

But their smile is theirs alone

They smile when they are happy

They smile when they’re content

They smile without reason

As it sometimes appears to be

And they smile unceasingly

Even at times when they shouldn’t be

And then children grow older.

They learn to do what they’re told.

Even if it’s clearly an empty gesture.

They smile for the cameras

A little less innocently then they used to

They smile for the family and for the strangers

Nearly the way they should be

They smile when they’ve been naughty

To cover up their guilt

And they smile politely

Even when offended

But even still they fail to smile on cue.

They laugh, they play, they sing so we may hear them

But the smile still clings to the moment. 

And then one day a smile appears where none used to be.

Prominently displayed broadly across their faces.

Appearing no different from any other.

Their teeth are made perfect, shining white every day.

Brushing them having become infinitely more important than it used to be.

Sometimes coy, sometimes shy, sometimes gay, and sometimes sly.

It has so many variations.

Years of practice has enabled the mastery over the muscles, contorting them just right to achieve the desired effect.

What was once an involuntary emotional response to stimuli has now become a mask to be used at will.

A fortress built to protect the delicate pearl within, to conceal the fragile within. 

For no one may see behind the mask

Though they long for the day someone might ask.

The camera flashes, and the smile is effortless, flawless.

The image, immaculate. 

The photograph, acceptable even among the harshest of critics.

Woe is the day that children learn to smile on cue.

When the smile that was once theirs alone belongs now to another.

Woe is the day when a smile expresses little more then the image of what the world wishes to see, needs to see.

For a smile remains a smile only as long as it continues to be ours alone. 

Would You Know Love?

Would You Know Love?

By: Ben Draiman, November 22, 2010

Would you know love if you met him on the weekend?

Would you know love if he called you on the phone?

Were you thinking of how much better it would be

If the fears you had were gone?

What could be so wrong?

Would you know love if it disturbed your busy life?

Would you know love if there was some other place you had to be?

Would you place it above anything and everything?

Without any guarantee

And wait for it patiently

Would you know love if it wasn’t so damn obvious?

Would you know love if it knocked on your front door?

What kind of love was the kind that you were hoping for?

Always wanting more

With so much left to explore

Would you know love if love was all you had to find?

Would you know love if you could find the space?

Have you had enough and just can’t seem to bring yourself

To lose what can’t be replaced

To have all you love be erased

You cry sometimes, but God hardly listens

He won’t waste his time breaking down your walls

You try all the time to keep yourself well hidden

So scared one day you’ll fall

Or that you’ll cease to care at all.

From Regular Guy to Something So Much More



Mike Shinoda (Linkin Park), Ben Draiman, Donny K.



Linkin Park has to be one of the most successful rock bands of the past 10 years, consistently selling millions of albums worldwide.  They are certainly the prototypical "rock stars" by most standards, at least when it comes to level of fame and success.  The image that comes to mind is by far one of individuals who are so much larger than life.   One almost expects to see a glow coming off of their bodies.  But the grim reality is, at least the one I encountered when chatting with Mike, one of the band's founding fathers and co-lead vocalist, that they are quite ordinary people and the only thing glowing was the flash of my camera. 

He's a soft spoken, quite laid back guy who one might encounter just about anywhere.  He even appeared a bit shy, and certainly far from the cocky and arrogant stereotype of the extremely successful musician.  In fact, putting his fame and success aside, I had felt at the time that we had far more in common as fellow musicians than one might think. 

One might view the experience as a disappointing one.  It's not as fun as one might think to see behind the magician's curtain, seeing just how human our superheroes really are.  We subscribe to a fantasy where it is us that projects our hopes and desires unto our rock heroes, often expecting them to even surpass the fantasy.  It's less fun watching a magic show knowing what's behind the tricks, knowing the magician is less magical than he/she appears. 

Perhaps the most poignant of images that really strikes the point home was how along with me backstage was one of Israel's own superstars: a young and extremely talented musician by the name of Idan Reichal.  This is a guy who by Israeli standards is quite successful, never having a problem packing venues with 1000 or so persons (though sadly not much more than that).  You would never know any of this by looking at him and certainly not by the way he acted, holding in his hand a few of his cds he was hoping to present to the band perhaps with the intention of boosting his PR in the American scene, and anxiously waiting "to meet the band" along with the rest of us.  I had been meaning to go to his concert in Jerusalem just days beforehand, which was held in a very large venue and packed to capacity, or so I heard.  He was genuinely a really nice guy, which certainly enhanced my image of him, but I do wonder if the equivalent of seeing the pretty model without all her make-up and accessories, stripped bare of all that makes her so much larger than life, didn't damage my experience for the future. 

I was anxious to get back into the crowd, back to the front of the stage so that my whole experience wouldn't be too tainted.  And it wasn't.  The moment the lights came on, the music started pumping out of the huge speakers set up in the outdoor stadium of Tel-Aviv amidst the thousands of Israeli fans from all age groups, and the band came out, dark silhouettes in the mist encompassing the stage, I was caught up in the fantasy once again.  No matter how much I had "known" about them and their quite human nature, their stage presence, the lights, the music, the high tech visual effects in the background, they had temporarily been transformed into something so much more than they were.

Musicians are merely mediums by which beautiful music can find true expression.  They are the stuff we project our fantasies on, becoming the heroes we NEED them to be, if only for the brief moments of time that they can be found on stage.  Gone are the days when I can get starstruck, and there is perhaps something sad about that.  Almost like a childhood that has passed.  But still it is empowering to know that the magic that is created, the glamour, the intensity of the performance is just as much due to the audience as it is due to the musicians.  They need us almost as much, if not more, as we need them.