Alek Mielnikow

Alek Mielnikow Jul 2019

Lighter

He proclaims this room as if it’s his throne
Igniting his body with his cologne

He presses the top like a wheel to a stone
Then leaves me behind all cold and alone

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

Can you guess which handsome pop ballad British singer I was listening to while writing this?

#love #lonely #loneliness #leaving #cologne

Alek Mielnikow Jul 2019

Breadcrumbs

Old breadcrumbs litter the placemat where
my little one had sat that morning.

That morning I told her she was running too
late to finish the PB&J with fine
pineapple pieces she had made for herself.
She gobbled the thing up in seconds, and with
a mouth still full she walked over and mumbled
bye. I wiped juice leaking out the corner, and
with a snort and a kiss to her forehead I
said see ya’, have fun. And with that she was out
the door, her red backpack one strapped like the
baseball boys did.

All that’s left are these breadcrumbs. I can’t
get myself to clean them up and throw
them away. I see them every day,
every meal, every middle of the
night as I peck on pineapple PB&Js.

As much as I know these crumbs must go, I don’t
regret for a second letting her eat that sandwich
the way she did. It was hell to raise such a rebel,
but she was never going to let anyone stop
her from what she wanted, including me. And she
makes me proud. I’ll clean it up eventually, but
for now, my little one’s breadcrumbs stay.

-
Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

This one was very emotional for me to write.

I cried while writing it, and I haven’t cried while writing since Dear Daughter Of Mine. I mean, I guess one can say I cried while writing (I must attest…), but I don’t believe that counts because those were slight tears of joy that didn’t even roll down my face. I can get those from laughing a bunch, or after ***, too… wow, now you know a bit too much about me.

Anyways, I’m quite sadistic, so I hope this poem makes you cry too. Enjoy.

#death #daughter #sad #sandwich #school

Alek Mielnikow Jun 2019

The Napping Sun

The sun is napping behind a cloud,
though loud plane engines call her awake.

Pollen is prancing around the patch,
and tiny critters follow their lead.

A big dog lies on the patio,
his smelly body absorbing heat.

You rest here with a pen in your hand,
tossing small diamonds into the sand.

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow
(Alek the Poet)

#outside #nature #dog #sun #writer #pen #diamonds #sand #garden #bugs

Alek Mielnikow Jun 2019

Your Shadow

I keep seeing your shadow everywhere I go.

By the lake, on the road, in the city, on
the porch, across my bed. Everywhere, you are
there. I can tell it is you by the shape of
its body, every inch I knew so well. And
it won’t go away. But I’m being selfish.
I know the shadow wishes the sun wouldn’t move,
that it would offer the gift of staying in
place. Or you wish the darkness of the new moon,
the cruelest moon, would not drown you like I did.

-
Aleksander Mielnikow
(Alek the Poet)

Wait... what?!

#love #death #loss

Alek Mielnikow Jun 2019

(I must attest...)

I must attest
to just one thing
to help evolve
your muss and health

I just suggest
that you don't need
to love them all
to love yourself

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

I am filled with so much love! And in more ways than one. I'm in love with my friends, my family, my dog. I'm in love with people in general, and strangers ("the stranger the bettaaa..."). I'm in love with my new video games and books. I'm in love with the wonderful venues I frequent. I'm in love with dancing and singing. I'm in love with someone who is so kind and sweet and smart and warm and caring and **** and cute and strong-willed and skillful and something that I can't explain but I feel it when I see them. And this poem is helping me love one other thing.

This may sound like I’m a comedian who laughs at my own jokes, but this poem made me tear up. I didn’t cry while writing it, though. When I work, I’m too focused on performing surgery to take all the emotions in. But once I sat back and read it as it is, it hit me like a 16 ton weight.

I've suffered, and still live with, such debilitating depression I've tried to **** myself four times. I've lied to friends about how I got bruises on my face while I hid the bite marks on my arms. I've pushed so many beautiful people away to make sure I don’t drag them down and unintentionally yet inevitably, rip them apart. I've drunk enough in one sitting to **** a person, without the hesitancy that a sense of self-preservation should bring. And I’m so ashamed and disgusted with myself getting my thoughts stirring in the morning is like jumping into a hurricane.

While I wrote this poem for you readers to take in, I ended up saying something to myself I didn’t think I could. It feels otherworldly. It even seems wrong, like I’m just waiting to sabotage every syllable. And I've spoken words like this before, only to throw them into a fire I've lit with hate. But I wrote this without hesitation. It flowed through my fingers, through a pen onto a page and then through a keyboard onto a word processor.

And I’m crying from the pain of remembering my destruction, and the joy of thinking I could be my friend. One who will listen and validate and soothe and advise and cheer me on when no one else is there.

I’m sure this mood, too, shall pass. But I’m holding on to this weird feeling of self-love for as long as I can.

#love #self #health #depression

Alek Mielnikow Jun 2019

Sticks St.

A Lazarus body litters the sidewalk
outside a well-lit, desolate lobby.

On the left is a mexican restaurant,
with a line reaching to the
entrance. They should stamp
the grey and scratched up
plexiglass with a light and
dark purple neon:
Welcome To America.
It would be reinforced
by every delicious crunch
one hears on the way out as
cheap crumbs garnish concrete.

On the right, there’s a bar
alive on a Friday night.
Friends share hearty laughs
and pats on the back.
The bitter and the perishing
pretend they want this
when they should be
somewhere or someone else.
And mingling singles look for
compliments and numbers,
or maybe just someone to
take back and **** the **** out of.

But in the midst sits
a throne for ghosts.
Ceiling fluorescent reflects
off porcelain, paler than a farmer tan.
There are no other colors besides
the receptionist, bored to death,
leaning on the wall behind
the porcelain reception desk,
reading a copy of Ebony.
No ottomans or chesterfields
or benches. No consoles or cocktail
tables. Nothing adorning the walls.
Not even a stain.
Just a white hole, a bright
***** in an otherwise colorful
street on gray canvas.

I rise from my slumber
and mosey on out the lobby
in my purple linen suit.
The impoverished scrag,
his dog lapping his sores, asks
if I’d spare some change.

“Sorry, I only have card tonight.”

“That’s alright, sir. God bless.”

And I walk on, aware of the
Abrahams rubbing up against
a ****** in my wallet. I take a sip
of whiskey hidden in my empty
can of a drink that can never
satiate me. I wait for traffic to pass,
and then I jaywalk across Sticks St.

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow

Luke 16:19-31

#homelessness #poverty #america #callousness #narcissism #christianity #nihilism

Alek Mielnikow May 2019

Like Thunder

The echo of a hollow space
strained against my head
An empty cry of deception
and pain inside my mind

Of words not said
Of tears not cried

My fears ****** inside
my broken heart
Strong winds eroded my will
with no mercy

There was no clear path
There was no way out

But when all seemed lost
when all the roads had closed
and my eyes could no longer cry
I heard a sound in the distance

Like thunder

It mended a bleeding soul
healed a broken heart
awoke a dormant warrior

The tender noise
this gracious voice
told me
I am me

-
Written by CZ
Edited and Revised by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

This is a poem that a friend of mine wrote and asked me to edit. I thought it would be less work for me this week, which would’ve been great since it’s my birthweek (my 25th on May 25th). Nope, it was just as much work. Maybe even more because crafting someone else’s work is not the same as doing your own. But they loved the finished version so much they asked me to share it with their name under a pseudonym. So, here you go!

#anguish #despair #hope #faith #pain #love #noise #thunder #past #regret