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Jul 2018 · 591
Alessander Jul 2018
Encyclopedic mainframes
Lap-top heads
Power-boxes for multitudinous outlets, plugs, chargers
Conduits manipulating
Fiber-optic arteries
Artificial energy
Pale lights
Computers aglow in dark cloistered bedrooms
Powered pacemakers stalling at microwaves
Electrocuted blood - cookied fantasies
Ads proclaiming everything free!
Pharmaceutical elixirs for limpness, lumpiness, loneliness
Snake-oil for suffering
Nigerian kings, Syrian refugees
*******, clever memes, whimsical gifs, shocking news, witty banter
Spewing on every thread

Existential *****.
Aroma-less cuisines
Vacuumed vacations
Youtubed communions
Suicide selfies.

Crucifixdrones - pedolandia
Jdate.POF.AshleyMadison.Match. Eharmony.SpeedDate.OKcupid
CG. Missed encounters...
Serial killers,
Pixalated *******, vein-throbbed **** shots, cardboard gloryholes

Instagramed I
Inviolate I
Internet I

I    I     I

No sweaty arm pits, cottage cheese, gray nose hairs or belly fat
Computer [ScreenShot]
While behind, posters hang: The Doors, Tupac, NIN, The Smiths, Hendrix, Joy Division, Nirvana


2D souls
144 word manifestos
Archetype emoticons

Doodled centaurs
Caged in matrices

Transcendental notes
Need a hit
Of internet smack

A line, a pinch, a drag
A like, a comment, a kudos
A reply, a thumbs up, a share, a poke
One measly view
Baby, come on, give me a fix
Just one
Notification: ding-beep-buzzzz
I want to dissolve like alka-seltzer in tap water
Otherwise I'm a used-up toothpaste tube
Sitting in a dank medicine cabinet

If not, I am
A stick-figure created from matches
Drowning in a drum of gasoline

Not buried beneath pregnant soil
No. dumped into blue recycling bins.

[Ctrl +Alt+Delete]
Jul 2018 · 264
Alessander Jul 2018
I'll probably wake up sobbing again tomorrow
Don't mind my drunken confessions
I have the tolerance of a gnat
But the emotional girth of an elephant
Weighing my light body down
That's my tragedy I suppose
If I were to be dramatic
Though drama emits catharsis
Drama is meaning and beauty - creation
In short: not me
In other words
I'm love sick
Sick for it
Sick with it
Sick in its absence
Just straight fuckn sick
Don't mind my vulgarity
It is what one uses
When convention fails
Expletives are the outcasts in language
They wear leather and smoke all night
While the rest of the dictionary
Sleep, pay taxes, and attend PTA meetings
Profane words are death row inmates
Offering their final translucent confessions
Stripped of pomp or rhetoric
****. Mierde. Hijo de la puta madre.
There I go again
It's late and I'm on my third drink
And am becoming vaguely beautiful
In spite of the tarantula
Crawling inside me, through me
Its prickly legs sprawling
Its ugliness spreading
Until I feel like clawing
Clawing at my breast
To get it out
Get it out!
Anyhow, I'll let you sleep
it's fine, really
Come morning I will sob on my stoli-scented pillows
While others yawn and smack their alarm clocks...
Jun 2018 · 223
Alessander Jun 2018
I don't want to contain your fire
   That which burns paper mache men
   Your shimmering eyes of sapphire
   Ignites my titanium pulse
   Illuminates my starless gaze
   Your kiss might utterly consume
   But I'll sing while I'm ablaze
May 2018 · 296
The Ravaging
Alessander May 2018
you fight the feeling, but it’s like trying to quiet hunger during an exam
rumbling, churning, growling, snarling from the pit
where universes and chakras intersect in dazzling purple gold vermilion
it explodes from you -
in waves in waves in waves
from your core to your muscles through your limbs, zapping from your fingers, toes and tongue
like lightning splitting a weeping willow from within
dazed and thunderstruck
you can’t resist the scent, the songs, the polaroids,
the lips or eyes shining between passing clouds or shimming stars
everything pulls you back like a coiling riptide
you’re fighting a parachute caught in a tempest
and all you want is to cut loose
to be sane and sound to be grounded to be planted to be rooted
in soil not turmoil
in the ever-blooming fields of love
for once awash in air and floating cherry blossoms
liberated from euphoric eddies and stretching shadows
deepening across the padded rooms of your heart
read, rant, review...
Dec 2017 · 295
Alessander Dec 2017
Revel in the night, the smoke and liquid
The sound waves washing over your limber electric body
The wild lights spinning, tilting, bursting in and out of musky darkness
Trickling with sweat and industrial poison,
                    Dripping with loneliness and longing
         Inhale the voices, howls and whispers brushing against   your      earlobes
Tingling your spine, swaying your future of marble, concrete      and rebar
                            The night is organic. It grows in you.
                      Its fragrance blooms. You can taste its
Sweet vapid fingers on your tongue.  
              Its rhythm surging in your chest.
 Swelling. Your blood cells rush it to the most desolate lighthouse
      Of your soul. Even that last one, out beyond the craggy shores
  Its light orbiting an ethereal void shrouded in icy fog
       Let this floating torch warm even those derelict  spiraling steps
                Let it illuminate forgotten chambers cobwebbed and dank
                Your life can wait. Your envelopes impregnated with bills
                                  Your appointments, treadmill and alarms itch
                    Death will curate you through your museum of horrors
                    Your monochromatic 50 year yawn can resume at dawn
                                                      But not tonight. Tonight
                               Revel in the music, laughter, curves, leather, lips!
        Abstracted desires - embodied, enraptured, erupting
                                      Reincarnate like a drunken god
                           Dancing on a graveyard of dreams
Jul 2017 · 871
CG: Casual Encounters>W4M
Alessander Jul 2017
I’ll **** for make-up
I’ll **** for shoes
I’ll **** from boredom
Or cuz I use

We’ll **** at your place
Or in a car
Or in a theater
Just don’t live far

And don’t be married
Or be married, whatever
Bring your partner
Or hide me forever

He’s always away
Or simply can’t ****
He’s got a small pecker
Break me out of this rut!

They’ll say I’m a **-bag
They’ll say I’m a ****
A cheater or freak
And I say: so what?

You only live once
Be twisted and *****
Be true to thyself
Come. Join me.
Jan 2017 · 2.8k
X-love with a shotgun
Alessander Jan 2017
Sun, heat and sweat
and what remains but the bone
the indecipherable whisper on our ear
the bitter aftertaste of a potent drink
you show me your tattoos, i show you mine
you show me your scars, i show you my poems
you show me your breast, i show you my
sun, heat and sweat
the ghost of a body that has not yet died
pill after pill till the stomach is pumped
till the brain swims in endorphins, nirvana, heaven
till the night screams to be heard and the moans fade
till the bone-sun rises and clobbers our throbbing skulls
no more
for once i want to sleep by 10:00 pm sharp
for once i want to know what the birds sing
what maria callas means by "vissi d'arte"
for once i yearn to be silenced
by another's dream
dissolve in the radiance of a pure syllable
vanish beyond the confines of light
Originally a collab between Z and X

I'm trying to broaden my creativity, so I've opened up a SoundCloud and started recording some of my pieces.

Hope you like, and if you do, follow me over on the cloud  :)
Jan 2017 · 1.1k
The Libertine
Alessander Jan 2017
Life isn’t enough.
I want 10 more
I want 10 penises and 10 *******
I want 10 guns and 10 crosses
I want 10 children and 10 homes
I want 10 friends and 10 enemies
I want more of everything and now
The gamma rays and the cosmic nothingness
The icy chill and solar flares
The Big Expanse and Big Crunch
I  CRAVE the universe
ALL of it
To funnel through me
Like water through a hose
Or electricity through a cable
Or sunlight through a magnifying glass
I am wired
With music, and wine, and kisses
With silence, hangovers, and wishes
I want to consume
Like Horace
the very sun, the very underworld
Engulf dreams, nightmares, and mortality between
Like plumes of obsidian perfume
Sacrifice virgins and assassins
Dig up graves and wheel them into churches
Dig up stones and throw them at CIA vans
I want to rage
Smear my blood all over eggshells
Feces on W2 forms
Give me more thunderclap and ******* wailings
Charge me with the ravenous gasp
To breathe, to bellow
To love in bolted totality
To strike and revel
I hold the goblet out
Shimmering and trembling
For you
Jan 2017 · 1.1k
Future Tense
Alessander Jan 2017
I don’t want to know about your ex
Don’t want to know about your daddy
Or your ******* coworkers or customers
Or your catty friends


Tonight begins the future

Some believe a wall against your back
Creates desperation
But it can also spark urgency
Clear the phlegm of memory
It can  protect
Your vulnerabilities  
Focus your vision

When getting jumped
First thing you scan for is a car or wall
The fists and kicks might ****** down
From everywhere like stony blizzards
But the pain is peripheral
Not ethereal
You’ll have a chance to dodge and block


Tonight begins the future

A future empty of splinters/thorns/shards
Of muscle aches, fatigue, or tremors
Of gooey ***, tar heroine, clunky *****
Dismembered torsos, sliced ears, dangling eyes
Red **** and blacker kisses

In turn I won’t burden you
With my *******
Won’t convert you into an airport carousel
I won’t unload
My unkempt baggage
Upon your frail façade
Turning turning turning
In circles
As weary passengers shuffle
To and fro
Beneath buzzing phosphorescent


Tonight begins the future

Open and free
Like air over mountains
Like clocks un-tocked
Like silence hovering around the corner
A seed buried in ****** soil
A dream light has yet to touch

*Tonight begins our future
Dec 2016 · 2.1k
Ode to Misfits
Alessander Dec 2016
This is to all those misfits

To the Romeo car-washing in Inglewood inlets
To the Hippy selling crystals on the Venice boardwalk
The Magician swallowing 8-***** at the Huntington Beach peer
The Rapper selling CDs in the Ranch Market parking lot
The **** tatting in a makeshift garage
The Poet slinging chapbooks at cafes and rec centers…

Not androids pontificating from lecterns
But grimy roots burrowing deep
Seismic rumblings toppling down
Insured ivory towers
Smashing pilled-paradigms beneath Docs
Hustling and slinging
In the forbidden outshacks of civilization
In tents, over barbed-wire, beside shards
Desperate and burning
For neither Truth or Beauty
But for LIFE

They do not tap wrists
No,  they thump chests
To feel it beat
To feel it rage
For fugitive fugues
For new eternities

They embrace
******* romance
Graveyard necromance
The holy hunger for change
Defying commercials and charts
Shivering and howling on streets
Waging guerrilla war
Liberating cubicled-hearts
Dec 2016 · 1.9k
Alessander Dec 2016
Your tears are so light
Like cheetah paws over puddles
Tepid and quick
Below ivory moons

And your hands though small
Massive on my chest
Each finger
A Stonehenge slab

Your words don’t quite reach
Muffled like some ancient wind
Low and distant
Falling off the Himalayas

But the ache is intimate
Like burning sage spreading
Touching every empty corner
O ashen holiness

Smoldering inside
Dec 2016 · 499
Alessander Dec 2016
Longing, confused, and discontent
Imagining kisses that froze like snow
In the endless blizzard of the mind
It's time to let go

Time to find the cobbled path home
Beneath the glacial earth
To thaw the mangled fingers
Beside a stony hearth

The icicles will melt
The woods crackle and whir
The sun will slowly rise
The heart firmly endure
Just a simple nature poem.
Dec 2016 · 3.5k
She wears too much makeup
Alessander Dec 2016
Even to an untrained eye
One can spot layers of foundation
Caked into her face

Is she a victim
Of some historical imperative?

Is she caged
In some arbitrary matrix?

Some fun-house of mirrors
While a mustachioed ringleader
Overcharges, shouting

“Come one, come all, bedazzled spectator
Behold, the distorted woman
Transmogrifying before your eyes!”

Or maybe she’s just vain
Or betwixt the two

Somewhere, a boy drops a sixpence
It rattles in the dusky jar
As he enters the dark show
whatever comes to mind as always
Dec 2016 · 740
Alessander Dec 2016
Vacancies are only temporary
Moments of emptiness where bodies rest elsewhere
Though they always buzz
In neon midnights
Next to gutters, alleys and parking lots
The distance between us
Breaks in my gut
Oct 2016 · 1.0k
The Undoing
Alessander Oct 2016
When they ask
If I’m seeing anyone
I respond

Haven’t for years

They snicker
But they asked
The wrong question

They should’ve asked

Does your heart thump
Does it sing in ecstasy
Does it swoon in anticipation
Does it stall before doors
Does it falter after kisses
Does it clang with emptiness
Or pump with desire

Does it writhe
In broken glass and gasoline
Each night
For her?

Then I shall whisper


And walk away
Sep 2016 · 1.5k
Alessander Sep 2016
I like dancing and drinking, sometimes fighting and *******, and not necessarily in that order.

Life isn't an equation. It's not a folded napkin, windexed decanter or applebees' reservation.

Sing, smoke, scream. When you laugh, let it boom. Howl at imaginary moons.

Roar to life
Sep 2016 · 1.7k
Minotaur 36
Alessander Sep 2016
With frenetic horns he gores
    The limp woman
          Draped on his bulging forearms
              Undoubtedly bronzed
          By  Mediterranean suns
                      Or paled
         By subterranean shadows

She is either praying or panting
                     Fainting or fawning
              In an unimagined  tense
Based on Picasso's drawing "Minotaur and Pray"
Aug 2016 · 437
The Fluffer
Alessander Aug 2016
He with the hard ***, tats, and gruff
Will beguile lonely princesses
With fluffy words for instances
When vibrators aren’t enough
If you wanna read the companion piece, read "**** Jobs:"
Alessander Aug 2016
She with the deepest cleavage
Will allure the most clicks
******* b-minus chicks
Cause the most leakage
bawdry barding
Jul 2016 · 783
Alessander Jul 2016
I am yours, but only in moments
Intense and startling like flash bulbs
Blinding and dazing
Leaving the dark blacker than before

Like laughing at carnivals
Never entirely wholesome
Over-saturated like cotton *****
So sweet it sickens in delight

Onslaught. ******. Overmuch
It is the opposite of life
Drab and drooling
Enter the delirium

Which you crave. It is ****
Unadorned, unlike dreams
Which detour you from love
In its absolute form. Click.
Jul 2016 · 2.3k
Letters from N.M.
Alessander Jul 2016
They enter the café just as some sappy pop song is playing
They order then immediately hug
Swaying to one side, together, like the wind
Encircling the leaning tower of Pisa
Then teetering to the other solstice
Foot to foot, smile to smile, hand round skirted waist
Forearm resting on his tall  blazered shoulders

This is forgivable in the young
Those teeny-boppers with defiant hair-cuts and posters
However, he has peppered hair
She, though voluptuous and tanned,
Must be in her 30s.
My cynical devil snickers, between sips

But I sit mesmerized, and for the first time ever
The chairs and the tables somehow seem more distant
The song  now sounds as if it’s funneled through some crackling phonograph
The very light disentangles itself from stones
It’s as if a sky has opened up in my chest
Flying high overhead,  one lone raven,
Its slow shadow
Gliding across my heart

Oh, how I miss you
5 states away

I see your smile on magazine covers
I vaguely sniff your scent on passing women
Yet you remain elusive - immaterial, haunting,  
While this visceral assault

Leaves me bewildered - empty
An echo in a chiaroscuro cavern  
Fading for thee
Alessander Jul 2016
Your snores are like a poem, your silence - writer’s block
Your tears a bleeding pen, your ****
A double-entendre for a sock

Please stop writing about writing

No one cares if you haven’t scribbled a haiku
In two days. Or if angelic Whitmans sing to you
Like bearded cherubs, baby-boo

Please stop writing about writing

And no one cares about its state
Or what it does or doesn't, or its fate
Or what it takes to be first rate

Please stop writing about writing

It's a literati twerk
Watch your fellow wordsmiths go to work
At the meta-circle ****

Please stop writing about writing

Yes, you’re spitting rhymes and flow
Basking in the muse's glow
Dropping learnéd metaphors , we know

Just please stop writing about writing

                                                        ­     Like so
might get longer soon.
Jul 2016 · 1.4k
Impoverished Travels
Alessander Jul 2016
Lying in your arms
Is my vacation

Your eyes are the stars over Paris
Your lips my Spanish sangria
Your scent like Persian jasmine

When you nuzzle into my neck
And rapid kiss me, laughing
Then rest your eyelids
Lightly on my pulse

I transport to that ashen couple
As the Vesuvian magma oozes over
Forever in terrestrial communion
Embracing - as we do now
Jul 2016 · 937
Alessander Jul 2016
Your childhood dream
Your teenage dream
Your 20s dream
Your 30s dream
Your 40s dream
Your 50s dream

Measure them in decades
Transfixed before a distorted hall of mirrors

A cycling fun-house

While presidents come and go
Parachute pants, bomber jackets, bangs

When you’re drifting off to sleep
What feeling awakens in your heart?

What small feet run across your translucent landscapes
Cubists blocks of what might have been

Twisting , reforming…, parallax

Like Etcher in motion, Inception

Dark cities floating overhead while eclipses burn red

Do your hands tremble with rage or with despair?

Or do you lie perfectly still, resigned

Practicing for your casket

Selfies of your head sinking into starched pillows

You’re responsible now

Clerks and coroners pat you on the back

The least you can be is responsible

Hunting down dreams in dreary forests
With bow knives and bandanas

Is foolish

Better to fill out your W2s

Calculate your interest and help with homework

Don’t be selfish

Let others burning with madness, desire and discontent

Dream for you

Shape the future for you

Preferable to be content

An anti-pioneer   To Nest in paperclips and razors

Satisfied with consolation prizes, Ms. Congeniality

To sink silently down the toilet of trivialities
Floating listlessly like a ****
Flushed out into the polluted ocean of time

But let us not dwell on dreams

Let us drill, let us dance, let us down

Korean BBQ and snap-shot sunsets

Never mind the shadows swirling

Through you, deepening with every tock

Civilization calls  - You must be integrated.

Not like days of yore

On the hunt

But wrenched into a mechanical maelstrom

Input into a coded vision

An alien incubator zooming through metallic tubes

You are an app

Of Aborted dreams

Of pragmatic passiveness

Fingered by millions of strangers

To **** time and hope
whatever comes to mind

Mar 2016 · 804
Phone Sex
Alessander Mar 2016
I want you to close your eyes
Hand over breast
Until your palm thumps

What you feel transfigures the physical
What we have transcends the sultry soma
Or random tactile sensation

I want you to close your eyes
Listen to my ripe breath
Inhale my low voice

It is like a hymn
It is true because while it whisks
Through your ear
It blossoms in your heart

Let it reverberate through those midnight gardens
You deny yourself among the slobbering masses

Groping you like raw meat
Pounding, slicing and packaging you
Like clumsy butchers

You are not a bleeding slab to me
Though I cherish that animal
Which temporarily houses your light

It is that radiance which warms my loveless bones
Which illuminates my dreamless skull

Distance only magnifies our effulgence
We are insects below it, scrambling

Let us immolate together beneath its searing heat
Until the facades of flesh melt
And we are left as **** as shadows
Aching for an unremitting bliss
As always, anything that comes to mind
Jul 2015 · 702
Alessander Jul 2015
Like a bad *** general reciting deaths
Strewn bodies like dead roses
Along the shore while the waves engulfs them
You glare at me like the enemy i have slained
But havnt conquered,  my love
I read your book but failed to read between the lines
Of what makes you holy, or mine
Jul 2015 · 1.0k
Alessander Jul 2015
Wake up in a slight daze
like the hanging haze when something in the kitchen is burning
but it’s the fog of hangovers, dizzying post nights
flash cards of kisses, songs, and maybe tears

all kinds of parts of me ache with bruises and bite marks
there’s opened chasers, flung boots, bottles under the bed
I spot your red lipstick imprinted on ashed cigarettes and beer cans
and when I go take a ****, I discover your ******* in my pocket

I see your text, “Home. Had a blast. Miss ya! ***”
and I am no longer haunted by some vague lingering feeling
that somehow this was a ****** scene
instead of our raw rituals of love
was going to entitle it "aftermath"- what say the gallery?
Jul 2015 · 1.1k
Alessander Jul 2015
You would figure
such a moment would be burned
into the paradigm of memory
when exactly did I learn
life was no cartoon?
well, it wasn’t one traumatic incident
rather a rushing current of events
a drunk uncle here, a screaming mom there
a belting boyfriend or toy-stealing sister
playmates picked dead last no matter
older boys bullying the younger
teachers who didn’t particularly bother
some cousins had yards and fathers
while others like me had neither
always more chores than fun
and no one ever explained how come
priests were less present and less kind
than the mexican street venders
there’s no specific scene to pause when I rewind
I honestly can’t remember.

It wasn’t at a funeral, by then
though I was young , I somehow knew
life was not all beautiful and true
that those adults who told me what to do
sobbed on dark beds and screamed at phones
then wiped their tears or ****** walls
before reentering the room
their eyes a little more like stone
while I pretended to un-see it all
and kept on playing with my toys, alone.
Weltschmerz: World-pain. World-weariness. That unique breed of melancholy born from recognizing the actual world will never mirror our ideal world.
Jun 2015 · 3.4k
Alessander Jun 2015
It’s like some beast
whose roar startles
drowsy landscapes  
from a mechanical planet
where veins leak oil
where organs deoxidize
where bones lay scattered
unburied like discarded rods
homes are garages
churches are factories
cemeteries are junkyards
where all organisms operate
toward a singular optimum imperative:

Jun 2015 · 826
For You
Alessander Jun 2015
I do a few pushups

Before you visit

I rummage for the good cologne

Dash some on wrist, neck


I trim my hair

Sweep the floor

Swipe the gunk

Off sinks

Wash the dishes

Stuff all the junk

Socks, backpacks, ****

Into the closet

Rearrange my trinkets

Shelve the various books

Thrown all about

Lay out the good movies

Songs, covers

Ready at hand

Prep my mind

With witticisms and humor

Hang up strawberry


Buy wine

Out of my price range

Dim the lights

Scrape the crust

Dust off the shadows

For you

I dream
Jun 2015 · 1.6k
Alessander Jun 2015
I told them,  “I don’t feel sorry for Robin Williams.
He lived it. Coke-fueled, bearded trickster of ******.
Well traveled and well versed, raging into worlds
Physical and ephemeral, like a ghostly bull
Goring mortals to unfeel the estoques
Sunk deep into his vital corpse.”

I had a friend who blew his brains out
While his parents were watching tv in the living room
And another who rented a room at the Marriott
Then hung himself off the shower-rod

Both early 20s
You won’t see them on the big screen
Or hear their witty banter on interviews
Chic celebs won’t eulogize them
On “Extra”, “TMZ”,  or “Access Hollywood”
No 2 minute montages
At award shows, while tuxes and gowns float
Clapping in ovation behind the shimmering façade
Of golden statues

They got a few lines in an obituary, in A7
Those who knew them will speak in hushed euphemisms
No one daring to whisper “suicide”
As if it’s the ****** Mary of deaths
Like walking under a ladder, or breaking a mirror
The mirror containing, like smoke, the future
The jagged shards reflecting moonlight faintly

I love them all the same
estoques: the swords ****** into bulls
Jun 2015 · 636
Unholy Trilogy
Alessander Jun 2015

a swelling fills my chest
it sounds like heavy waves crashing
against jagged cliffs

     stars stars stars

silver spears descend
   i am pierced


through my clavicle

the rain-swept streets waft with reminisces
  like stale perfume on a black wrinkled shirt

            my head half
submersed in water

                tickling my ear

        I can hear my nose breathing
                  heart pounding
                      throat gulping

body floating


                       in this liquid abyss

               like a spirit lost
                        in the neon-green ether
         of absinthe

              press against my shivering skin

                 a warm palm plunges

                            clasps my numb hand

   a light delves

                            into the obsidian chasm

                   pallid faces



               from a cavernous distance      

fiery orbs combust


                                like dry wood

                               in a snowy forest

smoke billows
                                     towards the fathomless night












The shadows in the corners of the room
whisper my name
they are the same shadows
by alley ways,
            behind tombstones
       beneath beds
inside my head

over the plains

the highest and whitest of clouds
cast darkest hues

the brightest of suns

i think of you

                         the whispers get louder
                         the curtains flutter
                         the air turns colder

somewhere a murmur


be still   be still  my dear

the rope hanging in the attic
                        the vague visions through the static
                                    the tremors of the addict

  be still
      my dear

                          love casts its pallor
                                blood on pale collar
                                  i hear you call her

                   by candle lights
                        as rain drops
                               and winds howl
                                       and wood creaks

               icy razors lay on warm tubs
                            guillotines fly through the air                
                    birds fall from thick heights
               like notes of despair

don't shake your head
it will all end
in the corner of the room
where the shadows call out your name
like the wind sweeps the rain

               pull out a smoke
                    drag over a chair
                          sit by the window
                            and stare

there is the world    there is the world
   you are not a part of
                there is the world
            full of cruel love
        there the children laugh and play
like you never have
or ever could

   It’s understood

                  the rain floods into gutters
                       the once crisp leaves drift
                          they sog and they shudder
                          from spring-autumn skies
                                 down down sewage drains
                                     all truths mask in lies
                                          all love in pain      

shhh  shhh

the shadows the shadows

   they whisper my name



I see your spectral silhouette
   hovering on the sea's horizon
      at midnight

  as the surf struggles and collapses
     before my feet

    it's so **** cold
     my gut convulses
      my hands shake
        my being shivers

              your hair whips
                 the dark air
               like thunder

                           the wind lashes
                         my numbed skin with coarse sand

            and it's so dark

                    the moon oscillates wide rings
                            of pallid skeletal light

                               and you flutter there exactly
  where the sun set
       six hours ago

                                 when its afterglow
                             pixel x pixel

                               your shadowy figure
                                   now beckons

                                      join me
                                    this night
                                and every night


                              I close my eyes....


dancing and sweating

  we lay in my room

             under burgundy covers

                      reeking of cheap beer
                               and dirt

your ******* still slightly moist
    flung on my chair

  my sticky shirt still emanates smoke
     like an industrial factory

you arms wrap a
Apr 2015 · 752
Alessander Apr 2015
Your eyes are not portals to your soul
They are not some archaic metaphysical equation
Ancient mathematicians formulated to confound

They are pastures for nymphs
They are branches for fruit
They are laurels for poets

They rend me open like a flaming axe
They tie my stomach like knotted roots
I lose myself in their dusky wilderness

In them, I observe universes
Perpetually exploding and collapsing
Your pupils are black holes
At the center of galaxies
Balancing energy and force
Bending light inward

Like a sickle glistening high over hayfields

In them I hear songs
And sagas narrated by savage tongues
Of catastrophic floods and rebirth
Aryan myths about oneness

In them I see IVs dripping
Candles flickering behind carved pumpkins

I loiter in them like a pauper
With a styrofoam cup

Gazing on them is nearly intolerable
Like glaring at hydrogen bombs blinding

It is like Hebrews
Uttering the name of El- who cannot be named
El- who is above mortal matrices

The eye that never sleeps
The ear that always comprehends
The self that waivers like the sea

Eternity ends when you blink
Infernos extinguish when you sob

I tremble before them
As if they're holy relics
Decaying into perfection

Oh look upon me one last time
My love

Oh glance at me before
I petrify into pillars of salt

Look upon me
Before I transfigure into an amnestic god
Bearing light pure

Peer once more into my binary pulsars, frozen
In a fathomless abyss.
Apr 2015 · 469
when i cry
Alessander Apr 2015
I make sure to punch my bf in the face
Just to let him know im not ******* around
Then i slink off to a corner
And pound the
Rest of the *****

Before they walk in to check on me
I backslap my tears from the darkness
" of course I'm ok, *******."
Then peer out into that song.

That song which beckons on the sea
Which makes me want to love and fight
I crunch a can , and squeeze a lung
And gasp An indeterindeterminate light
Apr 2015 · 1.1k
u fucks
Alessander Apr 2015
What do u know of loss?
W ur ******* Nirvanna shirts
Did u ever love a crackhead
Or cry toiletless room?.

What do u know w ur dull razors
Colred hair, tapered pants
Nothing. U only imagine kisses
Against ***** lips on nov 1st
Apr 2015 · 547
Alessander Apr 2015
I'm looking out to the hwood hills,
Step over junkis and lovers
Who shall i kiss first. Dying
Dying, dying , dying
I will kiss those sub cracked lips
Thirstnig for lovE,
Palming the emptiness
WheRe my heart was,
Yet when my drunken lips call
At 2 am w cruel lightning
U will discard me like the wind
Apr 2015 · 1.2k
cherry blossoms
Alessander Apr 2015
Something about her
the way she sips her beer
as if it’s tea, and she’s in a kimono
peering out into a storm
as the wind rattles the ***
and snakes through the silk
she undulates, sliding her finger
over the rim, then sips

I know the real storm
broods inside her frail frame
but she says little. mostly listens
and it drives me utterly insane
she should scream or bang on walls
she should throw ashtrays into tvs
but instead, she simply nods
her glazed eyes as still as pearls

She’s like a cherry blossom descending
towards the  muddy trail below
she will be trampled by hooves
of  merchants and thieves
and I am the charcoal cloud, aching
as I feel her falling farther from me…
Keep denyng art, *******
Alessander Apr 2015
And pew by pew, they shuffle up
In stoic homage, cane in hand
Or awkward reverence, drudging forth
I dare not rise to join the train
Of human need, of appetites
That crave the air, that lust the sun
That knock on wood to trap a nymph
That find a god within a waif.

And others, likewise, stay as well
A few old-maids who cannot walk
Yet others more than capable
I think, “Maybe the night before…
They ****** their sister’s married friend
Perhaps they stole their neighbor’s TIMES
Or sabotaged their best-friend’s plan
Got drunk and cursed and fought their dad
Or maybe even killed a man…”

And yet they’re sober enough now
Beneath the stained-glassed reddened light
That slants before the multitudes
Sober enough to fear what’s done
To touch, to taste, the burning bread
With sweaty palms, or slobbering tongues

And all at once a feeling swells
A kinship for those left behind
Who gaze upon these rising rows
Yet still remain for all to see
Just how deprived they truly are
Now those who’ve fed and drunk return
Crossing themselves, they kneel to pray

The holy hymnal spreads its wings.
Mar 2015 · 5.9k
Alessander Mar 2015
I need to read love poetry
For the same reason monks read bibles

the irrepressible need to believe

That love exists
That love is omnipresent, omniscient, all powerful
That it is eternal

For someone somewhere, at least

The emptier I feel, the more I read

Let me believe

Someone kisses
Crusty eye-lids in perfect bliss
Mar 2015 · 1.7k
Alessander Mar 2015
She sat beneath the high-noon blinds
The light too garish - spilling bleach
Not the soft song that falls behind
Far-off horizons of aural beach

No, this was hill-light - mountain-light
It was harsh, abstract, Cézanne
Cutting deep into each crevice - dust-mites
Irradiated at dawn

Overlooking every balcony
Of barking mutt - of barbeque
She craved for an epiphany
To change how she perceived the view

To find some meaning in the pools
The bars - the plastic awnings
She muttered, “I am such a fool”
Then took a drag and kept on longing.
Mar 2015 · 923
Alessander Mar 2015
You are the snake charmer
      mesmerizing poisonous slithery creatures
      spellbinding them with your undulating hips
      gyrating *******
      nimble graceful hands
      lulling lulling
      the predator
      into a limp drowsy posture
      until its rapid oscillations dull
      until its spitting hisses silence
      and glowing yellow eyes milk over
      you drape it over with your red garment
      it coils into infinity
      as darkness spreads.
Mar 2015 · 4.5k
Cherry Blossoms
Alessander Mar 2015
Something about her
the way she sips her beer
as if it’s tea, and she’s in a kimono
peering out into a storm
as the wind rattles the ***
and snakes through the silk
she undulates, sliding her finger
over the rim, then sips

I know the real storm
broods inside her frail frame
but she says little. mostly listens
and it drives me utterly insane
she should scream or bang on walls
she should throw ashtrays into tvs
but instead, she simply nods
her glazed eyes as still as pearls

She’s like a cherry blossom descending
towards the  muddy trail below
she will be trampled by hooves
of  merchants and thieves
and I am the charcoal cloud, aching
as I feel her falling farther from me…
Mar 2015 · 957
Alessander Mar 2015
It's not so much your lips
But the words behind them
And the touch my skin still tingles from
And the way your closed eyelids warm
My stiff neck in the morn

I can see you layered there, bundled
Among the blankets you stole from me
Some time during the night
One hand tucked under the pillow
The other serenely on the bed

You lazily turn, half-languidly
Digging your head into my broad breast
Then heave your leg over my thigh
Kissing my scruffy beard

How can I summon the will
To wake and troop to work?
To be sobered from my delirium!
To be polluted by time and space!
Yanked away from your ethereal landscape
And hurled into corporate junkyards
Of grinding metal, cubicles, alarms
I want to dwell forever in your liebestraum
Like a ghost drifting through a foggy rose garden
Mar 2015 · 1.1k
Sorry, Sake
Alessander Mar 2015
I'm sorry, I drank all your sake
Again, I left you some money
    On the desk - I'll be gone in the morning
      Like the rain.

You have always forgiven - forgotten
  A tinture of both mixed in the palette
    of your heart withstanding
      Me.  My black swathes

Of Beauty and Pain. You conceive
  What I feel when I glance
    At the flowers I trampled
     With my boots

Yes, I've been meaning to buy you flowers
  But it's too cliche - too conventional
   For our approximations of love
    Like cherry blossoms in the wind

So instead, I drank all your sake. I'm sorry
   Again, I left you some money
    On the desk - I'll be gone in the morning
     Like the rain.
Mar 2015 · 1.1k
The Loneliness of Stoics
Alessander Mar 2015
The loneliness of stoics
Rocks, ancient rivers
Streaming only through
Blue hills, shadowed banks
The shade that makes
All bare boys shiver
Beneath the leaves.

The lake glistens
Such golden boughs
Hanging overhead
Lanky limbs
Sharp elbows
Into ribs
Upon damp grass.

This was the time
Before women
Before black hair
Swung lightly over
Our shuddering shoulders
Before dark eyes
Fiery tongues

Before we could imagine
Such soft perfumed skin


Only in dreams
Only in books

And then…our life.
From the Alessander Archives.
Mar 2015 · 1.5k
Alessander Mar 2015
your pale smooth skin
     slides under me
     as we are more sweat
     than bone
     i suckle
     your pink taut areolas
     you clutch my hair
     and my fingers spread
     you close your eyes
     bite down your lips
     shudder slightly
     a low heavy breath
     and it’s like
     some shade in an inferno
     opened a cobwebbed window
     from the blackest molten bowels
     to release the compressed
     stagnate humid air
     from your deepest self.
Mar 2015 · 907
Jr. High Dances
Alessander Mar 2015
I miss slow dancing
awkwardly in musky
jr high gymnasiums
with lame hair cuts, and shoddier shoes
from payless

but in the dark
limitless future
when hands trembled at hips
and lips quivered at ears
when perfume broke us
like picks
at a bottomless a quarry

was that not heaven?

when hard-ons rose like spears
and we talked on phones all night
on our backs peering into moons
Mar 2015 · 1.1k
The Laughing Lion
Alessander Mar 2015
a facsimile of happiness
a continuous depression filled with interludes
of sunsets shimmering off loving eyes

          neither logic nor morality warm beds
          so we keel over, head long into midnight streets
          groping for lips to kiss
              ears to listen
                 hands to caress
                   ******* to obliterate

for Newton's apple to drop
or Buddha's lotus to blossom
for Gabriel's sword to rip chests open

       some are enslaved to absolute subjectivity
                                  a tattered rag flapping on the wind
                       they are forever drowning drowning drowning
             dooming any who dive in to save

                        they can not step back and observe the play
                        they are the play: the king, the jester, the soldier
                         the longing maiden, bitter spinstress, sword-smith's daughter
                         the prideful hero or stubborn villain
                         the country bumpkin chopping wood
                         the raving madman in the wilderness

          oblivious to the back-drop or matrices
            the paradigms of passion
             the translucent chemical pulleys
            the perpetual violations of history
              ******* them

                even in the womb

the birth of an idea is the most wondrous phenomenon
the booming I AM forever resounding
it is a big-bang of metaphysical splendor
it is the unity of art-science-religion
the holy trinity of being
"Laughing lion" is from Nietzsche
Feb 2015 · 1.2k
Alessander Feb 2015

                          It was there heating
                                            sloping cavernous craniums

                         It was there illuminating
              marble hallways

         It was there immolating
                              witches at stakes

                                     Its fierce essence
                          frightens wilder-beasts

                                   Its mesmerizing radiance
  lures moths to annihilation

                       When in love, we often become
             both wilder-beast and moth

                As children, we learn
             to leap back from the flame

                               When old, we are rolled
                 into iron incinerators

                                    And every day between
   We are encompassed by suns
                       We are consumed by flickering passions

                                  We set-off firecrackers
                           for amusement

               We light candles
                                     to measure time

                         Veladoras to whisper
                                 to gods

                                          Fire is Life

                                      Something in us will
                                            forever burn.
Feb 2015 · 1.9k
The FaceBook Blues
Alessander Feb 2015
Oh, you got your politico pals
Posting stuff about them blues-and-reds
Oh you got your new-age pals
Posts about their chakra dreads
Oh you got your pervy pals
Posts about their whips and spread
Oh you got your journal pals
Posts about their EX and meds
Oh you got your comic pals
Posts of grumpy cat in bed
Oh you got your trendy pals
Posts of food and celeb weds
Oh you got your gossip pals
Posts about what so-so said
Oh you got your music pals
Posts of bands on every thread
Oh you got your mother pals
Posts of how their babies fed
Oh you got your nightlife pals
Posts of each local they’ve tread
Oh you got your righteous pals
Post of what you need instead
Then you got your artsy pals
Oh someone shoot me in the head!
Just a silly romp.
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