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Feb 2015 · 8.3k
Feminism
Alessander Feb 2015
I don’t get feminism.
The term, that is.
When they ask, "Are you a feminist?"
I reply, “Sure.”
They nod in bobble-head approval.
“I’m also a childist and animalist”
A confounded grimace glazes over
“Huh?”
“Of course. Aren’t YOU a childist?
Aren’t YOU an animalist?”

“Uh. What do you mean?”

“Well, don’t you believe that children
and animals should be treated with love?”

“Well, naturally.”

“Well. There you go. You’re a childist
And animalist.”

"Besides,  you would extend this love
To all sentient beings, I’m assuming?”

“Ummm. Yes...”

“Well, then, you’re a masculinist too,
Just like me!”

This is about the time their cell buzzes
Or their double soy frap is ready

They whisk away

“Oh, I’m also a worldist!” I belt out

Before they exit

As I resume reading
Remaining clever, and

Alone.
Feb 2015 · 977
Post-Aubade
Alessander Feb 2015
I want to be the bed covers
You wake to
That your restless limbs
Have smothered
That your emanating body
The fabric
You have tossed-and-turned in
8 hours hence
Imprinted with your scent

And the mouthwash
You gargle
To swoosh-and-splash
Along your tongue
To be in you
Like a liquid ache
Sloshing
Waking


I want to be the fork
You pick your eggs with
My metallic spine
In your slight fingers
Your demure  hands
Scarred sustenance
Yolk sun

I want to be the comb
Tangled in your frizzy hair
Your wavy hair of smoke
And shadowed lakes
As soft as lint
Cascading

I want to be the cig
You light on the corner
To warm the brick morning
I want to hang on your quivering lips
Like an autumn leaf from a branch
I want you to inhale me
And let your body loose
Feel me utterly
Then exhale...

Let me evaporate
Into the nothingness
I was before

You
Footnotes: An aubade is a morning love song (as opposed to a serenade, which is in the evening), or a song or poem about lovers separating at dawn.[1] It has also been defined as "a song or instrumental composition concerning, accompanying, or evoking daybreak".[2] - WIKI

It's generally a lament about the morning since dawn means the end of the night, the broken spell for the lovers. Romeo and Juliet perhaps exhibits the most famous "aubade".

However, I decided to write about the morning after.
Feb 2015 · 972
Internet Men
Alessander Feb 2015
Let me scan your pretty face
Your wistful eyes and ebbing hair
Your youthful floral air
I distantly embrace

It matters little what you write
I’ll like whatever gibberish
You post, sober or feverish
Morning afternoon or night

You crave fans, and I oblige
You desire compliments
Hits, and shares, and comments
A digital mirage

To reinforce, who knows?
To find one who can comprehend
Truly, more than family, friends?
Love through a computer’s glow

Or escape whatever misery
Whatever flesh and bone
Has left you this alone
To log away to fantasy

You hum to yourself by the river
A low sad steady melody
But from the shaded woods, I see
Your pale visage shiver

So I approach, naughty or behaved
Like a wandering troubadour
Serenading mon amour
To save and to be saved

I’ll stream you instant endless praise
I’ll shadow your every move
It will approximate love
Unmerited as grace

So, let me frame your pretty face
Your chic angular air
Your parted lips, cascading hair
Forever fall through my embrace
This is a little **** in fantasy and fun.

(The Troll and the Princess? Hmmm)
Feb 2015 · 710
Voodoo Doll
Alessander Feb 2015
Stick it with a pin
And I will yelp

Twist its arm
And I will cry for help

Strip it
And I will seek cover

Kick its groin
And I will double-over

Punch it
And I will bruise

Slice it
And I will ooze

Stomp it
And I will ache

Slam it
And I will break

Drown it
And I will choke

Burn it
And I will smoke

Skin it
And I will peel

Flog it
And I will kneel

Bite it
And I will heave

Kiss it
And I will leave.
voodoo, ***;, masochism
Feb 2015 · 1.2k
Fishnets and Stilettos
Alessander Feb 2015
I see you in your black corset
    Shiny as a raven’s claw
      Your hair
         Hips swerving
   Sipping a stiff drink
         In a dark corner
          Mascara thick
              Lipstick full
        In crimson bloom

        Plump lips - glazed eyes
           Fishnets and stilettos

                     Swaying

         Unto the dance floor
      Becoming one
  With the music
While unraveling yourself
       From our mortal fetters
                    Bone fingers
         Reaching, beckoning
      As you are enveloped

By the strobe-lights and fog

             Evaporating

   Only your pale silhouette remains
              On my tongue
Feb 2015 · 1.5k
Albatross
Alessander Feb 2015
You are my home, I whisper
As I lay my head on her lap

She slides her fingers
Through my wavy mind

Hair of wind and obsidian
She sighs chasms

As I fall away from her body
She falls away from my words

And somewhere in that moment
We meet for the first time

Then-and-there, our true selves
Embrace in the eternal plane

Of all we were
Or ever could be

You are my home, I refrain
You are my home, you are my home…

As sleep descends like velvet curtains
I sail off like a paper boat

Across your sea
Whatever comes to mind. Critique, comment, reaction...

— The End —