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Alex Fontaine Jul 2017
My little son is radiant
surrounded by gold and brilliance
sometimes i think he only glimpses me
through glimmering clouds of celestial glory
he smiles and giggles and claps hands at me
holy light pierces fragile darkness
like the moon i clap hands back.
Alex Fontaine Jul 2017
Feeble opinions of cellphone zombie
Facebook philosophers perched
upon flaccid moral frameworks
like feeders upon which a sparrow
would hop from perch to perch,
nuggets, morsels, rules, restrictions,
convictions, insecurities falling
so conveniently down to make him
the master of his plastic choice
to be plucked like a cucumber
by the cold lonely wet hungry
hawk who provides his own sustenance.

Little sparrow not only do you not
matter some day soon you will
barely be matter molecules stacked
one by one a discoloration in a rock
formation waiting for the sun
to explode and make dust again
to be quiet until it all turns inside
out again to make new sparrows.
I will not waste the starlight glimmer
of consciousness joined to gross matter
for the briefest moment gasp in time
on your silly ****.
What to say when people try to talk to you about politics. They leave you alone.
Alex Fontaine Jul 2017
Thank you Lord Vishnu
For the bones of this demon.
A swing to the left encompasses time,
A swing to the right encompasses space.
I am here in the middle to be stretched and balanced.
I am here to be broken and strengthened.
To be purified and prepared for the next swing,
When I take up these bones again.
The gada is a traditional hindu mace and my favorite way to work out. Check it out on youtube.
Alex Fontaine Jul 2017
I am not sad because you are gone,
I am sad because I am happy you left.
What to say when you want to call your ex at 3am
Alex Fontaine Nov 2018
Above frozen hills and icy forest,
Finding definition through separation,
A dark island in a white sky,  
Coming closer.

The eyes first- burning beads of life,
Searching for death and opportunity,
Blazing terrifying focus,
Coming closer.

The sound next- quiet rush of primaries,
Hiss of bone and feather slicing frozen air,
Whisper of the wolds wild goddess,
A knife blade.

Cutting holy air like I cut myself,
Soul slicing distinctions and definitions,
Of happiness and loneliness,
And he leaves me,
Lately I’ve been thinking that the more a person separates their body from their mind, the more dependent they become  on society to tell them who they are. The raven suffers from no such illusion of separation between body, mind, and soul., and is enough in itself.

“A man is happy if he finds praise and friendship within himself. You can never be sure of where you stand in someone else’s heart.”  -Havamal 8
Alex Fontaine Jul 2017
Last friday a homeless man asked me for a sheet.
Confused, I laughed to myself.
I was dropping off food and water.
Silly man. He could have asked for more.
Cant he see how good I am?
This friday I tossed a light, clean, crisp bundle of
and sleep and dreams and whispered secrets
morning sunbeams and mid day tickle fights
and a smell
that someone had worried about
and folded just right and stored safely away
until it was his.
Maybe next friday I wont wait to be asked.
Maybe I will spend more time listening
and less time criticizing.
Maybe I will spend less time thinking in
and more time thinking out.
Maybe I'll have a chance
next friday.
Alex Fontaine Nov 2020
I see so many people,
Who carry their dread,
Like concrete umbrellas,
Up over their heads.

No time for sunlight-
Preparing for rain.
Ready to fight-
But not to feel pain.

All wrapped up in themselves,
Discontent with their lives,
Like they’re owed something else,
Than a good day to die.

Awareness floats on an eternal sea,
A glittering instant of consciousness ,
Vibrating between unrealities,
On a firmament of impermanence.

For no reason deciding to spring up from the ground,
As we careen through an exploding universe.
We spend our time trying to tear each other down,
The hue of our flesh sacks determining what we’re worth.

The earth is our mother and my ancestors are there,
I’m not scared to die as I was born- screaming and naked-
To love life as a moth loves fire is to live a prayer;
I am terrified of the moment being wasted.

Hope and freedom are not found
Behind the illusion of truth.
Look to Prometheus bound-
Who cares little to nothing for Zeus.
“A fool thinks he will live forever if only he can avoid a fight, but old age will bring him no peace, even if weapons do.” Havamal 16
Alex Fontaine Jul 2017
Free will is
getting out of someone elses bed,
putting on clothes someone else made,
under a ceiling someone else raised,
walking across a floor someone else built,
pouring coffee someone else grew,
into a cup someone else bought you,
driving a car someone else designed,
powered by fuel someone else refined,
down a road someone else planned,
to fulfill requests and make demands.
Freedom is
closing your eyes
and being okay.
Alex Fontaine Jul 2017
I am the son of Thor.
The blood of Odysseus runs in my veins.
I breathe thunder.
My heart is the ocean.

Do you think I am the son of Cain
To trade my inheritance for your bowl of soup,
For your shiny things that vibrate and spin,
For your **** and violence,
For your ***** pills and swimsuit models?
I will close my eyes to your neon lights.
I will hold my breath against your sweet poison.
I will close my ears to your siren call.

I will dive below the cluttered surface of my consciousness.
I will seek in the darkness and find the spark of the sacred feminine
where she slumbers in the cold stone stillness,
Lightning will surge through my nerves
and I will explode into flame.

Your filth will rise from me like smoke,
Your carnal lies will fall away like ash,
I will smash your idols like twisted mirrors,
And you will remember god.
At what point does it become your job as a man to question the stereotypes that our actions support? Where do they come from? Who are they really serving?
Alex Fontaine Apr 2018
I feel
Like a square hat
Well defined edges
Sharp corners
Everything a hat should be
Except worn
Alex Fontaine Jul 2017
Sandals slapping ******* glued stone,
Sun hitting hard soaking my clothes,
I like to pretend Im alone,
Empty houses vacant windows.
Dog **** smell wafts from my plastic bag
Scraped from a  carefully manicured lawn

Dog pants pull me from bush to bush,
Past awkward neighbors with no eyes,
Cant talk now, always in a rush
Another encounter to despise.
The trees could take the houses back over
Birds bees and deer make for good company.

My boy is four and loves the dirt,
He loves to smell the sunflowers,
Pulls them from heaven down to earth,
To softly imbibe their powers.
I stop for a minute and bow to them
And breathe their delicate blessing as long as I can.
Alex Fontaine Jul 2017
Happy words like tears,
Soak into the page.
Sad words like sunbeams dry them away.
So clean and so clear,
Like animal rage.
Everybodys got a poem poem...
Alex Fontaine Sep 2017
If you cannot place your ear to the earth and hear its quiet hum,
Or watch the seasons change like the beating of a drum,
Or feel your spirit seeping like mycellium into the universe,
How can you place judgement upon the intensity of my experience?

Your plastic entanglements could not withstand the brutal inciciveness of my pesonality,
Which you so desperately need me to change,
Clawing as you plunge into the abyss,
Firmly bound to the social edifice.

I am sorry for your pain but this is not my knife,
I cannot heal what is not broken.
I will apologize for my life,
When you make amends for your sin.
Alex Fontaine Feb 2019
Colossal arms catch the radiant sun,
Giants rooted in tree shrouded hills,
I smile at them till my workday is done,
Sun soaring above as we pay the bills,
Pompously colossal and full of drive,
I look up at them looking down at me,
Laboring away beneath resplendent skies,
With the spirit of Jesus and Don Quixote,
We sally forth into the teeth of fate,
Wielding noble visions of how life should be,
No effort too small nor sacrifice too great,
Not to impale self to self upon Odins tree.
And the hills turn to dust, dust turns to earth,
The void collapses, the sun burns away,
And I’m left to question what our needs are worth,
Smiling at windmills till the end of the day.
Alex Fontaine Jun 2021
Watching the lightning, listening to thunder
Did I do the wrong or right thing
It’s got to make you wonder
What tomorrow might bring
to tear it all asunder.

Splitting our limbs and bringing the pain
Leaving us torn
We wonder why it came
But the fiercest storms
still bring the rain.

We try to hold on to what we forgot
Not to grow up and throw it all away
But the storm has taught
That life finds a way
And branches heal like it or not.

I miss my fiends and I miss my youth
If I could go back I don’t know what I’d do
Branches bend and on time moves
All things end but the search for truth
Alex Fontaine Oct 2020
We crowd into a darkness of neon and strobe lights, sweating grasping thrusting jumping,
Deafened; ears by bass and spirits by alcohol
As of a single mind, like the maggot, we wriggle and crawl  blindly back to the darkness from whence we came-

But I dream

Of not seeing you

In a faraway forest,
Touched and untouchable,
Naked and triumphant,
Wild and free.


In a sunbeam

A shaft of light
Penetrating the throbbing verdant green canopy,
Shining brighter for the privilege of caressing your cheek
As the wind plays with your hair,
And the earth trembles under your toes,
Eyes bright, soul soaring,
Enraptured by the music of the wild god of the world,
Ears filled with laughter at the very notion

That you could ever be anything less

Than a goddess
Alex Fontaine Sep 2017
"Oh yeah? Did you **** anybody?"

Is what people ask when they see
smeared across my past
like a bloodstains on a white sheet
US Marine

And they cant understand the answer
because they cant understand the question

“I really think you got that guy man!
We should radio back and get you
a confirmed ****!”

“Im pretty sure I shot that guy in the back.”

"******* Miller and Johnson are dead."

And I never knew what to say to my friends
Because I was busy doing mental math
Emotional equations
In their eyes

How many more times they could be blown up
Before they were unreliable

Divide the fear with rage
Because you had a job to do
Someone had to get in the truck
And push the fragile blindfolded bodies back
With his boot so he could sit down
below the armor
away from the snipers

And one of them was shaking
it was cold
And his cowering skinny teenage body shook
It was like mine had been not long ago
For the whole convoy
three hours

And I carry these memories in the same tissues as the ones
that carry my sleeping infant son
nuzzled against my chest
under a blanket

Some of us let them spill out of our veins
Onto bathroom floors
In ditches and alleys
car wrecks

Any good devildog prefers the screams of the dying
to the screams of the living.

And the math keeps coming out negative
When I equate the cost of our
cell phones candy wrappers
vibrators golf courses

And I subtract the dark areas of my mind
From what can be filled with love
And am still at war.
Please be nice to me.
This took a long time to write.
The quotes here are actual quotes, the stories actual stories.
Alex Fontaine Sep 2017
If and when I return,
I would like to be an earthworm.
Consciousness buried deep in dark ground,
Embraced by the stone silent earth.
To suffer neither hunger nor lust,
Cold or greed.
To toil ceaselessly and timelessly,
To sacrifice myself blindly to sun or bird.
If not to be spared the pains of death,
Then at least those of life.

— The End —