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I.

One night at the Troubadour I spotted this extraordinary girl.

So I asked who she was.

‘A professional,’

That was my introduction that on a scale of one to ten

there were women who were fifteens—beautiful, bright, witty, and

oh, by the way, they worked.

Once I became aware,

I saw these women everywhere.

And I came to learn that most of them were connected to Alex



II.

She had a printer engrave a calling card

that featured a bird of paradise

borrowed from a Tiffany silver pattern

and,
under it,

Alex’s Aviary,

Beautiful and Exotic birds.



A few were women you’d see lunching at Le Dôme:

pampered arm pieces with expensive tastes

and a hint of a delicious but remote sexuality.

Many more were fresh-faced, athletic, tanned, freckled

the quintessential California girl

That you’d take for sorority queens or future BMW owners.





III.

The mechanism of Alex’s sudden notoriety is byzantine,

as these things always are.

One of her girls took up with a rotter,

the couple had a fight,

he went to the police,

the police had an undercover detective visit

(who just happened to be an attractive woman)

and ask to work for her,

she all but embraced her

—and by April of 1988 the district attorney had enough evidence

to charge her with two counts of pandering

and one of pimping.

For Alex, who is fifty-six

and has a heart condition and diabetes,

the stakes may be high.

A conviction carries the guarantee of incarceration.

For the forces of law and order,

the stakes may be higher.

Alex has let it be known that she will subpoena

every cop she’s ever met to testify at her trial.

And the revelations this might produce

—perhaps that Alex compromised policemen

by making girls available to them,

—perhaps that Alex had a deal with the police to provide information

in exchange for their blind eye to her activities

—could be hugely embarrassing to the police and the district attorney.

For Alex’s socially correct clients and friends,

for the socially correct wives of her clients and friends

and for a handful of movie and television executives

who have no idea they are dating or

married to former Alex girls,

the stakes are highest of all.



IV.

Alex’s black book is said to be a catalogue of
Le Tout Los Angeles.

In her head are the ****** secrets

of many of the city’s most important men,

to say nothing of visiting businessmen and Arab princes.

If she decides to warble,

either at her trial or in a book,

her song will shatter more than glass.





V.

A decade ago, I went to lunch at Ma Maison,

There were supposed to have been ten people there,

but only four came.

One of them was a short woman

who called me a few days later and invited me to lunch.

When I arrived, the table was set for two.

I didn’t know who Alex was or what she did,

but she knew the important facts of my situation:

I was getting divorced from a very wealthy man

and doing the legal work myself

to avail lawyers who wanted to get a big settlement for me.


Occasionally, she said, I get a call for a tall, dark-haired,

slender, flat-chested woman

—and I don’t have any.

It wouldn’t be a frequent thing.

There’d be weekends away, sometimes in Palm Springs,

sometimes in Europe.

The men will be elegant,

you’ll have your own room

—there would be no outward signs of impropriety.

And you’d get $10,000 to $20,000 for a weekend.





VI.

The tall, slender, flat-chested brunette

didn’t think it was right for her.

Alex handed her a business card

and suggested that she think about it.

To her surprise, she did

—for an entire week.

This was 1978, and $20,000 then

was like $40,000 now,

I knew it was hooking,

but Alex had never mentioned ***.



Our whole conversation seemed to be about something else.



VII.

I was born in Manila

to a Spanish-Filipina mother and German father,

and when I was twelve

a Japanese soldier came into our house

with his bayonet pointed at us,

ready to do us in.

He locked us in and set the house on fire.

I haven’t been scared by much since that.



My mother always struck me as goofy,

so I jumped on a bus and ran away,

I got off in Oakland,

saw a help-wanted sign on a parish house,

and went in.

I got $200 a month for taking care of four priests.

I spent all the money on pastries for the parish house.

But I didn’t care.

It felt safe.

And the priests sparked my interest in the domestic arts

—in linen, in crystal.



A new priest arrived.

He was unpleasant,

so on a vacation in Los Angeles I took a pedestrian job,

still a teenager,

married a scientist.

We separated eight years later,

he took our two sons to another state

threatened to keep them if I didn’t agree to a divorce.

Keep them I said and hung up.

It’s not that I don’t have a maternal instinct

—though I don’t,

I just hate to be manipulated.



My second husband,

an alcoholic,

had Frank Sinatra blue eyes, and possibly

—I never knew for sure—

had a big career in the underworld

as a contract killer.

Years before we got serious,

he was going out with a famous L.A. ******,

She and her friends were so elegant

that I started spending time with them in beauty salons.

They were so fancy,

so smart

—and they knew incredible people,

like the millionaire who sat in his suite all day

just writing $5,000 checks to girls.



VIII.

I was a florist.

We got to talking.

She was a madam from England

who wanted to sell her book and go home.

I bought it for $5,000.

My husband thought it was cute.

Now you’re getting your feet wet.

Three months later,

he died.

After eleven years of marriage,

just like that.

And of the names in the book

it turned out

that half of the men were also dead.

When I began the men were old and the women were ugly.



IX.

It was like a lunch party you or I would give,

Great food Alex had cooked herself.

Major giggles with old pals.

And then,

instead of chocolate After Eight,

she served three women After Three



This man has seen a bit of life

beyond Los Angeles,

so I asked him how Alex’s stable

compared with that of Madam Claude,

the legendary Parisian procuress.

Oh, these aren’t at all like Claude’s girls,

A Claude girl was perfectly dressed and multilingual

—you could take her to the opera

and she’d understand it.





He told me that when she was 40

she looked at herself in the mirror

and said

Disgusting.

People over 40

should not have ***.

But She Was Clear That She Never Liked It

even when she was young.

Besides, she saw all the street business

go to the tall,

beautiful girls.

She thought that she never had a chance

competing against them.

Instead,

she would take their money by managing them.





X.

Going to a ****** was not looked down upon then.

It was before the pill;

Girls weren’t giving it away.

Claude specialized in

failed models and actresses,

ones who just missed the cut.

But just because they failed

in those impossible professions

didn’t mean they weren’t beautiful,

fabulous.



Like Avis

in those days,

those girls tried harder.

Her place was off the Champs,

just above a branch of the Rothschild bank, where I had an account.

Once I met her,

I was constantly making withdrawals and heading upstairs.





XI.

We took the lift

and Claude greeted us at the door.

My impression was that of the director

of an haute couture house,

very subdued,

beige and gray, very little makeup.

She took us into a lounge and made us drinks,

Whiskey,

Cognac.

There was no maid.

We made small talk for 15 minutes.

How was the weekend?

What’s the weather like in Deauville?

Then she made the segue. ‘I understand you’d like to see some jeunes filles?’

She always used ‘jeunes filles.’

This was Claude’s polite way of saying 18 to 25.

She left and soon returned

with two very tall

jeunes filles,

One was blonde.

This is Eva from Austria.

She’s here studying painting.

And a brunette,

very different,

but also very fine.

This is Claudia from Germany.

She’s a dancer.

She took the girls back into the apartment and returned by herself.

I gave my English guest first choice.

He picked the blonde.

And wasn’t disappointed.

Each bedroom had its own bidet.

There was some nice

polite conversation, and then



It was slightly formal,

but it was high-quality.

He paid Claude

200 francs,

not to the girls

In 1965, 200 francs was about $40.

Pretty girls on Rue Saint-Denis

could be had for 40 francs

so you can see the premium.

Still, it wasn’t out of reach for mere mortals.

You didn’t have to be J. Paul Getty.





XII.

A lot of them

were models at

Christian Dior

or other couture houses.

She liked Scandinavians.

That was the look then

—cold, tall, perfect.

It was cheap for the quality.

They all used her.

The best people wanted

the best women.

Elementary supply and demand.



XIII.

She had a camp number tattooed on her wrist. I saw it.

She showed it to me and Rubi.

She was proud she had survived.

We talked about the camp for hours.

It was even more fascinating than the girls.



She was Jewish

I’m certain of that.

She was horrified at the Jewish collaborators

at the camp who herded

their fellow Jews

into the gas chambers.

That was the greatest betrayal in her life.



XIV.

She was this sad,

lonely little woman.

Later, Patrick told me who she was.

I was bowled over.

It was like meeting Al Capone.

I met two of the girls

who worked for her.

One was what you would expect

Tall

Blonde

Model.

But the other looked like a Rat

Then one night

she came out

all dressed up,

I didn’t even recognize her.

She was even better than the first girl.

Claude liked to transform women like that.

That was her art.

It was very odd,

my cousin told me.

There was not much furniture

and an awful lot of telephones.

“Allô oui,”



XV.

I had so many lunches

with Claude at Ma Maison

She was vicious.

One day,

Margaux Hemingway,

at the height of her beauty, walked by.

Une bonne

—the French for maid

was how Claude cut her dead.

She reduced

the entire world

to rich men wanting *** and

poor women wanting money.

She’d love to page through Vogue and see someone

and say,

When I met her

she was called

Marlene

and she had a hideous nose

and now she’s a princess.

Or she’d see someone and say

Let’s see if she kisses me or not.

It was like

I made her,

and I can destroy her.

She was obsessed

with “fixing” people

—with Saint Laurent clothes,

with Cartier watches,

with Winston jewels,

with Vuitton luggage,

with plastic surgeons.



XVI.

Her prison number was

888

which was good luck in China

but not in California.

‘Ocho ocho ocho,’ she liked to repeat

Even in jail, she was always working,

always recruiting stunning women.

She had a beautiful Mexican cellmate

and gave her Robert Evans’s number

as the first person she should call

when she was released.



XVII.

Never have *** on the first date.



XVIII.

There will always be prostitution,

The prostitution of misery.

And the prostitution of bourgeois luxury.

They will both go on forever.



“Allô oui,”



It was so exciting to hear a millionaire

or a head of state ask,

in a little boy’s voice,

for the one thing

that only you could provide

It's not how beautiful you are, it's how you relate

--it's mostly dialogue.



She was tiny, blond, perfectly coiffed and Chanel-clad.

The French Woman: The Arab Prince, the Japanese Diplomat, the Greek Tycoon, the C.I.A. Bureau Chief — She Possessed Them All!



XIX.

She was like a slave driver in the American South

Once she took a *******,

the makeover put the girl in debt,

because Claude paid all the bills to

Dior,

Vuitton,

to the hairdressers,

to the doctors,

and the girls had to work to pay them off.

It was ****** indentured servitude.



My Swans.



It reached the point

where if you walked into a room

in London

or Rome

as much as Paris

because the girls were transportable,

and saw a girl who was

better-dressed,

better-looking,

and more distinguished than the others

you presumed

it was a girl from Claude.

It was, without doubt,

the finest *** operation ever run in the history of mankind.



**.

The girl had to be

exactly what was needed

so I had to teach her everything she didn’t know.

I played a little the role of Pygmalion.

There were basic things that absolutely had to be done.

It consisted

at the start

of the physical aspect

“surgical intervention”

to give this way of being

that was different from other girls.

Often they had to be transformed

into dream creatures

because at the start

they were not at all



Often I had to teach them how to dress.

Often they needed help

to repair

what nature had given them

which was not so beautiful.

At first they had to be tall,

with pretty gestures,

good manners.

I had lots of noses done,

chins,

teeth,

*******.

There was a lot to do.



Eight times out of ten

I had to teach them how to behave in society.

There were official dinners, suppers, weekends,

and they needed to have conversation.

I insisted they learn to speak English,

read

certain books.

I interrogated them on what they read.

It wasn’t easy.

Each time something wasn’t working,

I was obliged to say so.



You were very demanding?

I was ferocious.



It’s difficult

to teach a girl how to walk into Maxim’s

without looking

ill at ease

when they’ve never been there,

to go into an airport,

to go to the Ritz,

or the Crillon

or the Dorchester.

To find yourself

in front of a king,

three princes,

four ministers,

and five ambassadors at an official dinner.

There were the wives of those people!

Day after day

one had to explain,

explain again,

start again.

It took about two years.

There would always be a man

who would then say of her,

‘But she’s absolutely exceptional. What is that girl doing here?’ ”





XXI.

A New York publisher who visited

the Palace Hotel

in Saint Moritz

in the early seventies told me,

I met a whole bunch of them there.

They were lovely.

The johns wanted everyone to know who they were.

I remember it being said

Giovanni’s Madame Claude girl is going to be there.

You asked them where they came from and they all said

Neuilly.

Claude liked girls from good families.

More to the point she had invented their backgrounds.



I have known,

because of what I did,

some exceptional and fascinating men.

I’ve known some exceptional women too,

but that was less interesting

because I made them myself.



Ah, this question of the handbag.

You would be amazed by how much dust accumulates.

Or how often women’s shoe heels are scuffed.





XXII.

She would examine their teeth and finally she would make them undress.



That was a difficult moment

When they arrived they were very shy,

a bit frightened.

At the beginning when I take a look,

it’s a question of seeing if the silhouette

and the gestures are pretty.

Then there was a disagreeable moment.

I said,

I’m sorry about this unpleasantness,

but I have to ask you to get undressed,

because I can’t talk about you unless I see you.

Believe me, I was embarrassed,

just as they were,

but it had to be done,

not out of voyeurism, not at all

—I don’t like les dames horizontales.



It was very funny

because there were always two reactions.

A young girl,

very sure of herself,

very beautiful,

très bien,

would say

Yes,

Get up, and get undressed.

There was nothing to hide, everything was perfect.



There were those who

would start timidly

to take off their dress

and I would say

I knew already.

The rest is not sadism, but nearly.

I knew what I was going to find.

I would say,

Maybe you should take off your bra,

and I knew it wasn’t going to be

beautiful.

Because otherwise she would have taken it off easily.

No problem.

There were damages that could be mended.

There were some ******* that could be redone,

some not

Sometimes it can be deceptive,

you know,

you see a pretty girl,

a pretty face,

all elegant and slim,

well dressed,

and when you see her naked

it is a catastrophe.



I could judge their physical qualities,

I could judge if she was pretty, intelligent, and cultivated,

but I didn’t know how she was in bed.

So I had some boys,

good friends,

who told me exactly.

I would ring them up and say,

There’s a new one.

And afterwards they’d ring back and say,

Not bad,

Could be better, or

Nulle.



Or,

on the contrary,

She’s perfect.

And I would sometimes have to tell the girls

what they didn’t know.

A pleasant assignment?

No.

They paid.



XXIII.

Often at the beginning

they had an ami de coeur

in other words,

oh,

a journalist, a photographer, a type like that,

someone in the cinema,

an actor, not very well known.

As time went by

It became difficult

because they didn’t have a lot of time for him.

The fact of physically changing,

becoming prettier,

changing mentally to live with millionaires,

produced a certain imbalance

between them

and the little boyfriend

who had not evolved

and had stayed in his milieu.

At the end of a certain time

she would say,

I’m so much better than him. Why am I with this boy?

And they would break up by themselves.



Remember,

this was instant elevation.

For most of them it was a dream existence,

provided they liked the ***,

and those that didn’t never lasted long.

A lot of the clients were young,

and didn’t treat them like tarts but like someone from their own class.

They would buy you presents,

take you on trips.



XXIV.

For me, *** was something very accessoire

I think after a certain age

there are certain spectacles one should not give to others

Now I have a penchant for solitude.

Love, it’s a complete destroyer,

It’s impossible,

a horror,

l’angoisse.

It’s the only time in my life I was jealous.

I’m not a jealous person, but I was épouvantable.

He was jealous too.

We broke plates over each other’s heads;

we became jealous about each other’s pasts.

I said one day

It’s finished.

Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and say:

Break my legs,

give me scarlet fever,

an attack of TB, but never that.

Not that.



XXV.

I called her into my office

Let us not exaggerate,

I sent her away.

She came back looking for employment,

but was fired again, this time for drugs.

She made menacing phone calls.

Then she arrived at the Rue de Boulainvilliers with a gun.

She shot three bullets

I was dressed in the fashion of Courrèges at this moment

He did very padded things.

I had a padded dress with a little jacket on top.

The bullet

—merci, Monsieur Courrèges

—stuck in the padding.

I was thrown forward onto the telephone.

I had one thought which went through my head:

I will die like Kennedy.

I turned round and put my hand up in a reflex.

The second bullet went through my hand.

I have two dead fingers.

It’s most useful for removing bottle tops.

In the corridor I was saved from the third bullet

because she was very tall

and I am quite petite, so it passed over my head.



XXVI.

There were men

who could decapitate,

****, and bomb their rivals

who would be frightened of me.

I would ask them how was the girl,

and they’d say

Not bad

and then

But I’m not complaining.

I was a little sadistic to them sometimes.

Some women have known powerful men because they’re their lover.

But I’ve known them all.

I had them all

here.



She will take many state secrets with her.



XXVI.

I don’t like ugly people

probably because when I was young

I wasn’t beautiful at all.

I was ugly and I suffered for it,

although not to the point of obsession.

Now that I’m an old woman,

I’m not so bad.

And that’s why

I’ve always been surrounded by people

Who

were

beautiful.

And the best way to have beautiful people around me

was to make them.

I made them very pretty.





XXVII.

I wouldn’t call what Alex gives you

‘advice,’

She spares you Nothing.

She makes a list of what she wants done,

and she really gets into it

I mean, she wants you to get your arms waxed.

She gives you names of people who do good facials.

She tells you what to buy at Neiman Marcus.

She’s put off by anything flashy,

and if you don’t dress conservatively, she’s got no problem telling you,

in front of an audience,

You look like a cheap *****!

I used to wear what I wanted when I went out

then change in the car into a frumpy sweater

when I went to give her the money she’d always go,

Oh, you look beautiful!



Marry your boyfriend,

It’s better than going to prison.

When you go out with her,

she’ll buy you a present; she’s incredibly generous that way.

And she’ll always tell you to save money and get out.

It’s frustrating to her when girls call at the end of the month

and say they need rent money.

She wants to see you do well.





We had a schedule, with cards that indicated a client’s name,

what he liked,

the names of the girls he’d seen,

and how long he’d been with them.

And I only hired girls who had another career

—if my clients had a choice between drop-dead-gorgeous

and beautiful-and-interesting,

they’d tend to take beautiful-and-interesting.

These men wanted to talk.

If they spent two hours with a girl,

they usually spent only five or ten minutes in bed.



I get the feeling that in Los Angeles, men are more concerned with looks.



XXVIII.

That was my big idea

Not to expand the book by aggressive marketing

but to make sure that nobody

mistook my girls for run-of-the-mill hookers.

And I kept my roster fresh.

This was not a business where you peddle your ***,

get exploited,

and then are cast off.

I screen clients. I’ve never sent girls to weirdos.

I let the men know:

no violence,

no costumes,

no fudge-packing.

And I talked to my girls. I’d tell them:

Two and a half years and you’re burned out.

Save your money.

This is like a hangar

—you come in, refuel, and take off.

It’s not a vacation, it’s not a goof.

This buys the singing lessons,

the dancing lessons,

the glossies.

This is to help you pay for what your parents couldn’t provide.

It’s an honorable way station—a lot of stars did this.



XXIX.

To say someone was a Claude girl is an honour, not a slur.



Une femme terrible.

She despised men and women alike.

Men were wallets. Women were holes.



By the 80s,

if you were a brunette,

the sky was the limit.

The Saudis

They’d call for half a dozen of Alex’s finest,

ignore them all evening while they

chatted,

ate,

and played cards,

and then, around midnight,

take the women inside for a fast few minutes of ***.



They’d order women up like pizza.



Since my second husband died,

I only met one man who was right for me,

He was a sheikh.

I visited him in Europe

twenty-eight times

in the five years I knew him

and I never slept with him.

He’d say

I think you fly all the way here just to tease me,

but he introduced me

by phone

to all his powerful friends.

When I was in Los Angeles, he called me twice a day.

That’s why I never went out

he would have been disappointed.



***.

Listen to me

This is a woman’s business.

When a woman does it, it’s fun

there’s a giggle in it

when a man’s involved,

he’s ******,

he’s a ****.

He may know how to keep girls in line,

and he may make money,

but he doesn’t know what I do.

I tell guys: You’re getting a nice girl.

She’s young,

She’s pleasant,

She can do things

she can certainly make love.

She’s not a rocket scientist, but she’s everything else.



The world’s richest and most powerful men, the announcer teased.

An income “in the millions,” said the arresting officer.

Pina Colapinto

A petite call girl,

who once slid between the sheets of royalty,

a green-eyed blonde helped the police get the indictment.

They really dolled her up

She looks great.

Never!

What I told her was: ‘Wash that ******.’





XXXI.

Madam Alex died at 7 p.m.

Saturday at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center,

where she had been in intensive care after recent open heart surgery

We all held her hand when they took her off the life support

This was the passing of a legend.

Because she was the mother superior of prostitution.

She was one of the richest women on earth.

The world came to her.

She never had to leave the house.

She was like Hugh Hefner in that way.


It's like losing a friend

In all the years we played cat and mouse,

she never once tried to corrupt me.

We had a lot of fun.


To those who knew her

she was as constant

as she was colorful

always ready with a good tidbit of gossip

and a gourmet lunch for two.

She entertained, even after her conviction on pandering charges,

from the comfy depths of her blue four-poster bed at her home near Doheny Drive,

surrounded by knickknacks and meowing cats,

which she fed fresh shrimp from blue china plates.



XXXII.

She stole my business,

my books,

my girls,

my guys.

I had a good run.

My creatures.

Make Mommy happy

Oh! He is the most enchanting cat that I have ever known.



She was, how can I say it,

classy.

When she first hired me

she thought I was too young to take her case.

I was 43.

I'm going to give you some gray hairs by the time this is over.

She was right.





XXXIII.

I was fond of Heidi

But she has a streak that is so vindictive.



If there is pure evil, it is Madame Alex.





XXXIV.

I was born and raised in L.A.

My dad was a famous pediatrician.

When he died, they donated a bench to him at the Griffith Park Observatory.



I think that Heidi wanted to try her wings

pretty early,

and I think that she met some people

who sort of took all her potential

and gave it a sharp turn



She knew nothing.

She was like a little parrot who repeated what she was supposed to say.



Alex and I had a very intense relationship;

I was kind of like the daughter she loved and hated,

so she was abusive and loving at the same time.



Look, I know Madam Alex was great at what she did

but it's like this:

What took her years to build,

I built in one.

The high end is the high end,

and no one has a higher end than me.

In this business, no one steals clients.

There's just better service.



XXXV.

You were not allowed to have long hair

You were not allowed to be too pretty

You were not allowed to wear too much makeup or be too glamorous

Because someone would fall in love with you and take you away.

And then she loses the business



XXXVI.

I was pursued because

come on

in our lifetime,

we will never see another girl of my age

who lived the way I did,

who did what I did so quickly,

I made so many enemies.

Some people had been in this line of business

for their whole lives, 30 or 40 years,

and I came in and cornered the market.

Men don't like that.

Women don't like that.

No one liked it.



I had this spiritual awakening watching an Oprah Winfrey video.

I was doing this 500-hour drug class

and one day the teacher showed us this video,

called something like Make It Happen.

Usually in class I would bring a notebook

and write a letter to my brother or my journal,

but all of a sudden this grabbed my attention

and I understood everything she said.

It hit me and it changed me a lot.

It made me feel,

Accept yourself for who you are.

I saw a deeper meaning in it

but who knows, I might have just been getting my period that day!



XXXVII.

Hello, Gina!

You movie star!

Yes you are!

Gina G!

Hello my friend,

Hello my friend,

Hello my movie star,

Ruby! Ruby Boobie!

Braaawk!

Except so many women say,

Come on, Heidi

you gotta do the brothel for us; don't let us down.

It would be kind of fun opening up an exclusive resort,

and I'll make it really nice,

like the Beverly Hills Hotel

It'll feel private; you'll have your own bungalow.

The only problem out here is the climate—it's so brutal.

Charles Manson was captured a half hour from Pahrump.



I said, Joe! What are you doing?

You gotta get, like,

a garter belt and encase it in something

and write,

This belonged to Suzette Whatever,

who entertained the Flying Tigers during World War II.

Get, like, some weird tools and write,

These were the first abortion tools in the brothel,

you know what I mean?

Just make some **** up!

So I came out here to do some research

And then I realized,

What am I doing?

I'm Heidi Fleiss. I don't need anyone.

I can do this.

When I was doing my research, in three months

I saw land go from 30 thousand an acre

to 50 thousand an acre,

and then it was going for 70K!

It's urban sprawl

—we're only one hour from Las Vegas.

Out here the casinos are only going to get bigger,

prostitution is legal, it's only getting better.





XXXVIII.

The truth is

deep down inside,

I just can't do business with him

He's the type of guy who buys Cup o' Noodles soup for three cents

and makes his hookers buy it back from him for $5.

It's not my style at all.

Who wants to be 75 and facing federal charges?

It was different at my age when I

at least...come on, I lived really well.

I was 22,

25 at the time?

It was fun then, but now I wouldn't want

to deal with all that *******

—the girls and blah blah blah.

But the money was really good.



I would've told someone they were out of their ******* mind

if they'd said in five years I'd be living with all these animals like this.

It's hard-core; how I live;

It's totally a nonfunctional atmosphere for me

It's hard to get anything done because

It’s so time-consuming.

I feel like they're good luck though....

I do feel that if I ever get rid of them,

I will be jinxed and cursed the rest of my life

and nothing I do will ever work again.



Guys kind of are a hindrance to me

Certainly I have no problem getting laid or anything.

But a man is not a priority in my life.

I mean, it's crazy, but I really have fun with my parrots.



XXXIX.

I started a babysitting circle when I wasn't much older than 9

And soon all the parents in the neighborhood

wanted me to watch over their children.

Even then I had an innate business sense.

I started farming out my friends

to meet the demand.

My mother showered me with love and my father,

a pediatrician,

would ask me at the dinner table,

What did you learn today?

I ran my neighborhood.

I just pick up a hustle really easily,

I was a waitress and I met an older guy who looked like Santa Claus.



Alex was a 5' 3" bald-headed Filipina

in a transparent muu muu.

We hit it off.

I didn't know at the time that I was there to pay off the guy's gambling debt.

It's in and out,

over and out.

Do you think some big-time producer

or actor is going to go to the clubs and hustle?



Columbia Pictures executive says:

I haven’t done anything that should cause any concern.

Jeez, it's like the Nixon enemies list.

I hope I'm on it.

If I'm not, it means I must not be big enough

for people to gossip about me.



That's right ladies and gentlemen.

I am an alleged madam and that is a $25 *****!

If you live out here,

you've got to hate people.

You've got to be pretty antisocial

How you gonna come out here with only 86 people?

That's Fred.

He's digging to China.

You look good.

Yeah, you too.

It's coming along here.

Yeah, it is.

I wanted to buy that lot there, but I guess it's gone?

That's mine, man! That's all me.

Really?

I thought there was a lot between us.

No. We're neighbors.



He's a cute guy

He's entertaining.

See, I kind of did do something shady to him.

I thought my property went all the way back

and butted up against his.

But there was one lot between us right there.

He said he was buying it,

but I saw the 'For Sale' sign still up there,

So I went and called the broker and said,

I'm an all-cash buyer.

So I really bought it out from under him.

But he's got plenty of room, and I need the space for my parrots.

Pahrump will always be Pahrump, but Crystal is going to be nice

All you need are four or five fancy houses and it'll flush everyone out

and it'll be a nice area.

They're all kind of weird here, but these people will go.

Like this guy here,

someone needs to **** him.

I was just saying to my dad that these parrots are born to a really ******-up world

He goes, Heidi, no, no; the world is a beautiful garden.

It's just, people are destroying it.

I’m looking into green building options

I don't want anything polluting,

I want a huge auditorium,

but it'll be like a jungle where my birds can really fly!

Where they can really do what they're supposed to do.

There were over 300 birds in there!

That lady,

She ran the exotic-birds department for the Tropicana Hotel,

which is a huge job.

She called me once at 3:30 in the morning

Come over here and help me feed this baby!

Some baby parrot.

And I ran over there in my pajamas

—I knew there was something else wrong

and she was like

Get me my oxygen!

Get me this, get me that.

I called my dad; he was like,

I don't know, honey, you better call the paramedics.

They ended up getting a helicopter.

And they were taking her away

in the wind with her IV and blood and everything

and she goes, Heidi, you take care of my birds.

And she dies the next day.

She was just a super-duper person.



XL.

I relate to the lifestyle she had before,

Now, I'm just a citizen.

I'm clean,

I'm sober,

I'm married,

I work at Wal-Mart.

I'm proud to say I know her. I look into her eyes

and we relate.





I got out in 2000,

so I've been sending her money for seven years

She was…whatever.

Girlfriend?

Yeah, maybe.

But ***, I tried like two times,

and I'm just not gay.

She gets out in about eight or nine months

and I told her I would get her a house.

But nowhere near me.

I didn't touch her,

but I'd be, like...

a funny story:

I told her,

Don't you ever ******* think

about contacting me in the real world.

I'm not a lesbian.

Then about two years ago, I got an e-mail from her,

or she called me and said, 'Google my name.'

So I Googled her name,

and she has this huge company.

Huge!

She won, like, Woman of the Year awards.

So I called her and I go,

Not bad.

She goes, 'Well, I did all that because you called me a loser.'

I go, '****, I should've called you more names

you probably would've found the cure for cancer by now.



XLI.

No person shall be employed by the licensee

who has ever been convicted of

a felony involving moral turpitude

But I qualify,

I mean, big deal, so I'm a convicted felon.

Being in the *** industry, you can't be so squeaky-clean.

You've got to be hustling.

Nighttime is really enchanting here

It's like a whole 'nother world out here, it really is

I’m so far removed from my social life and old surroundings.

Who was it, Oscar Wilde, I think, who said

people can adjust to anything.

I was perfectly adjusted in the penitentiary,

and I was perfectly adjusted to living in a château in France.



We had done those drug addiction shows together

Dr. Drew.

Afterward we were friendly

and he'd call me every now and then.

He'd act like he had his stuff together.

But it was all a lie.

Everything is a lie.

I brought him to a Humane Society event at Paramount Studios last year.

He was just such a mess.

So out of it.

He stole money from my purse.

He's such a drug addict because he's so afraid of being fat.

He liked horse ****, though. He did like horse ****.

This one woman that would have *** with a horse on the internet,

He told me that’s his favorite actress.

Better than Meryl Streep.



XLII.

The cops could see

why these women were taking over trade.

Girls with these looks charged upwards of $500 an hour.

The Russians had undercut them with a bargain rate of $150 an hour.

One thing they are not is lazy.

In the USSR

they grew up with no religion, no morality.

Prostitution is not considered a bad thing.

In fact, it’s considered a great way to make money.

That’s why it’s exploding here.

What we saw was just a tip of the iceberg.

These girls didn’t come over here expecting to be nannies.

They knew exactly what they wanted and what they were getting into.

The madam who organized this raid

was making $4 million a year,

laundered through Russian-owned banks in New York City

These are brutal people.

They are all backstabbers.

They’re entrepreneurs.

They’re looking at $10,000 a month for turning tricks.

For them, that’s the American dream.



XLIII.

If you’re not into something,

don’t be into it

But,

if you want to take some whipped cream,

put it between your toes,

have your dog licking it up and,

at the same time,

have your girlfriend poke you in the eye,

then that’s fine.

That’s a little weird but we shouldn’t judge.



She was my best friend then

and I consider her one of my best friends now,

because when I was going through Riker’s

and everyone abandoned me,

including my boyfriend,

I was hysterical,

crying,

and she was the one that was there.

And, when somebody needed to step up to the plate,

that’s who did, and I have an immense amount of

loyalty, respect, and love for her.

And if she’s going to prison for eight years

—that’s what she’s sentenced for

—I’ll go there,

and I’ll go there every week,

for eight years.

That’s the type of person I am.
There once was a maiden so utterly fair
Everyone desired to be her lover
With her forest eyes and ebony hair
They came asking one after another

Now Alex had a tainted heart
She didn't care for any lover
She only thought of herself
So God decided to fight for her

He thought one of his children
So completely beautiful
Should be given a second chance
To have a beautiful heart as well

So he sent Victoria to her
An angel of purity
Yet perfectly capable
Of kicking *** if need be

So that very night
Alex was out a little too late
And shadows gave her fright
For they followed her again

Voices echoed behind her
Saying "hey lets have some fun"
Yet Victoria arrived at that moment
And said "I think that we should not"

The men only laughed
Sending anger through her blood
Victoria, the angel of heaven
Decided to have her kind of fun

She did not need her wings
To jump from the rooftop
Landing on her golden heels
She smiled and the men just stopped

They only stopped laughing
They stood in shock and stared
How could she survive a jump
From all the way up there

Now Alex, she was awestruck
At the beautiful savior before her
Now the men thought they were in luck
For they now had two to torture

"Leave now!" the divine angel spoke
Or I swear you'll lose your life"
Not one of the men cracked or broke
She pulled out the Empyrean Scythe

How many men let out a shout
At the woman with the weapon
Their heads no longer filled with doubt
They'd run there was no question

So the men they ran and fled
They were all such petty cowards
They left the woman behind instead
Alex then gazed at that woman, empowered

"Are you alright?" The angel said
Yet Alex only nodded in daze
Victoria placed a hand on her cheek
With a soft and worried gaze

"Are you sure?" Asked the holy one
Alex gave her a soft smile
"Yes but what are you,
and have you been here for a while?"

"Nope this is our very first meeting."
Victoria had simply replied
So beneath the stars they walked and talked
And reposed into the night

"Do you believe in angels?"
Victoria asked as midnight struck
"No, but now I've seen one."
Alex said with a flirty look

Victoria chuckled amusedly
Alex didn't know what she'd said
"Yes, you have, but not the same
Angels are beings to dread."

"You mean you're a real angel"
Alex asked in utter disbelief
"But of course my chosen" Tori said
As she revealed her golden wings

Alex stared in awe at the feathers so soft
"Yup!" Victoria said with a grin
"If you're joking with me, I must say *******."
Then angel didn't like Alex's language.

"Don't take attitude with me!" Victoria snapped.
Her eyes glimmered with golden fury
"What if I do, you're just heaven's brat."
Alex snapped oh so sassily

"Listen little girl,
I've lived much more ages than you.
If you think that you can battle me,
Try it I'll give you a lesson true."

"You are made of ignorance!"
"You are not my mother!" Alex called out
"Mute!" Victoria said in annoyance
But no words could come out

When Alex and Victoria go home
Alex still can not speak
Walking down the silent rode
The beauty felt so weak

In front of this divine being
Her eyes they seemed to dance
Her beauty against Victoria,
Psh she didn't stand a chance.

Alex grew to admire her first
Winking and flirting every chance she got
Victoria resisted knowing of the worst
That could happen if her father was distraught

Now one night a week
they sat among the stars
Victoria was staring at Alex's arm
And all it's scars

Yes, Alex was beautiful,
yes, Alex was vain
However she was dutiful
To giving herself pain

She never believed she deserved love
She never once thought she was good
Then she met Victoria
And instantly knew she would

She would learn to love her
Yes she would become entranced
The cutting all stopped instantly
For her feelings had enhanced

Victoria kept her mouth shut
About the scars that lines Alex's wrist
She could tell there could be more
If the questioning did persist

The night Victoria fell for her
They sat beneath the tree among the stars
Vowing her life and love to Alex
Seeing beauty in all her scars

Slowly months, and a year went by
Victoria loved Alex's eyes
Alex fell for an angel of the lord
Her the warrior, with the sword

They hugged, they kissed
They kept in the dark
Not caring for others
Hiding who they are

Now Victoria was called to the gate
To speak with the father, execution by mace
How dare she fall for his lovely daughter
An angel, how dare she find a lover

Now her God, yes he was displeased
Deciding to cast her from above
He took Victoria's golden wings
And she hurt, in the name of love

Bloodied stubs, of faded wings
A halo dropped from the sky
The day the father was in fury
Was the day an angel died.
Jake Backlund Aug 2013
In a darkened haze, I think I see something.  A figure in my living room.  Someone is in my home in the middle of the night?

It is her!  Its Alex!   The cute girl from my thoughts and my laptop screen.   The curly haired, ****, brunette who makes me think pleasant thoughts while trying to pretend I'm really a writer.  The same girl who gives me inspiration and who is more than a little gorgeous.  The beautiful, sensual babe from the southern USA who causes me to consider moving to a warmer climate.

She is sitting alone on my couch in my living room at 2:00 am.  I can't sleep but need it.  However, the thought of being in the same room with her makes me feel invigorated and powerful.  This young woman makes me feel like a manly stud.


She is wearing a short, lavender nightshirt and is sitting cross legged on the couch. She looks incredible.   Very sensual.  Why is she here?  What is going on?    This is crazy.


But who cares about the reasons at this point.  I plan on playing along with this.  


I am only clad in boxer briefs and a smile as I approach her somewhat casually.   "Alex?"    I ask her dumbfounded as I move closer in order to see if she is really there or if I might be just completely imagining this.


"Hi Paul. Its nice to see you.  I suppose you are surprised to see me like this."   She says with a friendly tone mixed in with a certain serenity about her that I find both odd but very alluring.


Without another word spoken for a while...


I sit down next to Alex and look into her moonlit eyes. The only light is coming from the nightlight plugged into an outlet a few feet away. Alex looks perfect.  A beautiful and charming smile, a gorgeous body, and the two of us alone in the dark in my home at night makes this too good to be true.


I can't help myself any longer.  I feel like we should talk and get more acquainted.  Like we should move slowly.  But I am mezmerized by this amazing creature!  I have little self control in this situation.


My hands have an agenda of their own as the left one starts to stroke Alex's beautiful knees and thighs mindlessly. This sweet action causes Alex to moan in approval which only causes more stroking of her legs.


My heart starts to pound and my pulse races at what could possibly happen next.


Neither of us speak much since our communication is being done physicially and sensually.  Speaking could ruin this moment.


I get that this encounter will happen, it will indeed occur. At this point though, its only a queston of how incredible this unexpected ******* will become.


Alex does not want to give any impression of not being in favor of this moment of really happening, so she quickly removes her only piece of clothing and throws it on the floor in front of the two soon-to-be lovers.


She is now gloriously naked on the old black leather couch.  Her beautiful body and sweet demeaner are without description.  She appears calm and comfortable.  She wants this to happen!


I feel a strong reaction to this beautiful girl now and I know that the time for any actual subtlety has long since  passed.


As I move closer to her on the couch, Alex reaches out for me with a hand to my cheek and I respond with my hand holding hers instead, and a soft kiss on her lips instead.  A slow, warm kiss that doesn't end quickly. The kissing is slow and sweet, but pleasing and exciting.  


She is real.  And I can feel, see, touch, and smell her beauty.


The kissing becomes more active now as we move closer together on the couch.  Alex moves her arms around me to pull me closer.  Her perfumed skin and her soft warmth almost causes me to scream.  


But that noise wouldn't be appropriate since it could cause a neighbor to knock on the door, or a phone to ring and we certainly don't want that.


Alex moves further back onto the couch now.  She wants to make more room for me. She knows what she wants and she will get it.   We will indeed make love now on this couch.  I remove my boxers and am now sitting together with the most beautiful young woman I have ever seen-both of us completely naked.


In another moment I am kissing and stroking Alex's ******* with my hands and am exploring her soft skin.  My hands feel like giddy mice who have just secured access to a warm stack of hay in sub zero cold.  Alex's body is so incredibly soft.  My senses have completely come alive.  I love the scent of her body.


Alex opens up her legs and pulls me toward her now.  She is breathing hard now as I almost can't wait any longer to feel her soft, wet middle.


In another moment, I am pushing myself inside of her. Her body and mine are moving in unison and it feels perfect. I am now pushing further and further into her as I can no longer control my need for this to happen.


Alex delights me by saying quietly,  "Yes, baby.  That's it.  More  More. That's it.  More of that. Oh baby."  


She pulls me even further into her now and we start a rythmic motion that is simply too exquisite to be described.  Our bodies are in tune. My **** reaches Alex's tailbone now and my tip is literally pushing against her back frame.


After several wonderful moments of this sweet love making.  I turn Alex around and enter her from behind.    She hasn't experienced this before, but she is delighted at how well we are performing this.


After moving around on the couch in our wild expressions, exploring each other bodies liberally, and changing positions often, we *** together in violent spasms of pleasure


It takes several moments for either of us to be able to talk clearly about this amazing, unexpected event; but we slowly vocalize our feelings by holding each other closely and covering ourselves with the only blanket we can find.


For several minutes we are too enamored in our pleasure to speak.  We can only hold on to each other sweetly and slowly regain our breathing patterns.


"Alex."   I begin.   "I don't know what to say.  That was unbelievable.  I never would have thought it would happen tonight."


"Paul."  You say.   "We both needed this and won't forget it.  Now hold me close and lets fall asleep together before morning has to arrive.  Ok?"


I just smile at this suggestion.


A few hours later when my pre set phone alarm stupidly rattles its tune,  Alex is no longer in my apartment.    But the sweet smell of our love lingers in the still dark morning.
linda barrett Feb 2013
One night in Provincetown
@2013 Linda Barrett


On my niece Jessica’s wedding
in the middle of July
The three of us weren’t invited
for the wedding rehearsal dinner
Instead of staying around the hotel,
That night
we went out on our own fun
just Alex, Kathy and I

We walked into Provincetown
searching for a place to eat
Looked at all the menus
and what entree to buy
discovered Pepe’s Wharf
sat on its deck
watched the Coast Guard’s fleet
ate boiled lobster and french fries
just the three of us
Alex, Kathy, and I

Our waiter, Derek, adored Alex
with his excellent restaurant manners
Two Lesbians admired his etiquette
A young straight couple made it complete
with their unified, approving sigh
Everyone on the deck admired us
Alex, Kathy, and I

On the Deck,
We linked our glasses in a toast
Alex with his Shirley Temple cocktail
Kathy with her white wine
Me with my diet Coca Cola
Smitten Derek played the host
told us of the pirates museum
the one that made Alex hum
we all thought it was fine
to see it with him
We left Pepe’s wharf
with our spirits high
toured the rest of Provincetown,
Alex, Kathy, and I







We walked upon cobblestone streets
still the same since
the 18th century
Ancient homes stood as witnesses
to the tall woman in
her Sonoma  sun dress
the red haired boy with the necktie
the middle aged woman
Clad in turquoise and white
and black high heeled sandals
' wandering on a Friday night
wondering residents passed us by
as we walked on the pavement
we impressed them all
Alex, Kathy, and I

The evening grew dark
we walked wherever we went
Motorcycles roared on the street
Drag queens dressed to the nines
We went into the stores
Stared at by dogs and artists
Kathy led me to a boutique
called Toho
bought a bracelet for my wrist
something unique
Alex got a Bear Claw pie
We astounded the parade
with our differences
and the commotion they made
at  Alex, Kathy, and I
We found out of the night
footprints of some African cat
from some bright yellow paint
followed their shiny way
down a side street
Kathy tried not to laugh
where it ended
A place called
the Kofu Kafe
Seretta the owner entertained us
with her South African thrills
displayed for Alex
Kalahari porcupine quills
We drank coffee
and South African sweets
let the time slowly fly
under the cafe’s sparkling ceiling
Just Alex, Kathy and I





At around ten
We three took off
Down the dark streets
To roam
I led  the way
with my feeble flashlight
Shining upon uneven cobblestones
walked past hand holding men
try to get ourselves
to our temporary home
silently say good bye
to our new found friends
and return to our beds
Alex, Kathy, and I
Brother Jimmy May 2016
MCMLXXXI

Turning point

It was the day that changed my reputation
And my teachers’ descriptions of me
From “Jim is a natural leader”
To “Jim likes to keep to himself”
It had to do with my ego
It had to do with my not wanting to eat dirt;
Wanting to save face...

In conversation around the 4th grade lunch table, the topic turned from jokes and laughing to a rating of who was tough and who was not. Alex steered it thus...and at this point, Alex and Albert were doing the talking.

"I could totally kick THAT kid's ***", said Alex.   "And probably that dude's too.  He looks like a spaz".

"Just don't mess with Big Ben or he might sit on you", said Al, trying as always to get a laugh at someone else's expense.
"You know I could kick Jim's ***.  
...Right Jim? Right, you little *****? Heh heh."

"I dunno." I say with a shrug.

"Say it.  ...SAY IT."

"...Say what?"

"Say it! Say that you know I could kick your ***", said Alex with a yellow grin.

"What does it matter? This is stupid.", I say.

"Say it", says Alex, with his best mad face..."Say that I could kick your ***.  You know I can."

"I don't know that."

"Then I guess I will have to show you", Alex sneered.  And he proceeded to tell me how he was going to come to my house and beat the living **** out of me.  

"Whatever", said I.

The day went on and, believe it or not, I forgot all about his threat.  I thought I was past it.

Well, later that day, after I was home for a while, the doorbell rang.  I was a latch key kid, and home alone.  
I had put the whole confrontation out of my mind, so for a moment, I was surprised to see Alex on the front stoop when I opened the door...

He taunted me.  He did the old fakeout punch and I flinched big time.  I instinctively tried to block with my foot, and then he said, "oh, so you're trying to kick me now?", and he pushed his way in, grabbed me by both wrists, and pulled me out onto the front lawn.  

He straddled me and punched me. Mostly in the chest...but also got a few groin punches in...to let me know he wasn't afraid to fight *****.  I was pinned and couldn't do much.  That's what made me angriest.  My helplessness in the face of this evil bully, grinning with delight at the pain he could inflict.

And here, the story gets worse.  When I was able to get away, I ran for the front door to hopefully get in and lock him out.  Unfortunately, he was on my heels and pushed his way into the house.  

And just at the point where he was literally rubbing my head against the stucco wall just inside the front door...my MOM WALKED IN.

****.  

THAT made it FAR worse.

The worst possible ending as far as a kid's reputation is concerned.  Mom grabbed Alex by the neck and put him out on his ear.

After that I had to endure, of course, the taunts of "hey look it's Jimmy...he has his Mama fight his battles for him."...beautiful.  Just wonderful.  

I got past it eventually, of course, but this episode had forever changed something in me.  My demeanor changed.  My love of my fellow man was reduced ...and I was much more focused on SELF...on navigating the social workings of elementary school unscathed.

Alex, as it turned out, had a tough family life.  Single Mom, and an older brother that beat the **** out of him regularly.  Al's home life wasn't great either, I guess.  It was that humor that grows out of pain that drew me to them in the first place.  
I've always been drawn to sources of laughter...it's a primal desire to laugh and to elicit laughter.  I've even read that monkeys have been known to tickle their children just like humans do.  

It seemed Al's humor was always at someone else's expense...and Alex had this need for power- due to his complete lack of any at home.

I like to think that I got it back, my love for my fellow man...at least  for the most part...but every now and then I catch myself saying, "look at THIS *******", and in my head categorizing folks who I perceive to have wronged me in some small way as "Alex Smith Types".  
Al is now a doctor. He's helping people daily.  
I often wonder what ever happened to Alex.  I have no idea how he turned out or what ever happened to him.  

Through grit teeth, I wish him well...the ***** *******.
~

"Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in THEIR shoes.

...because then, when you do criticize them, you're a mile away! ...and you got their shoes! "

-some comic
(whose name escapes me)


Alex Bautista Nov 2013
Alex is his name,
People say he's insane,
He's always the one to blame,
Don't trust him they say,
He'll hurt you,
He'll betray you,
And the list goes on....

One day Alex met this
Beautiful young girl
"Ashley",he said
With such bliss.

He gazed at her,
He hung out with her,
He played with her,
Then something kicked in
But he doesn't know what it is.

"What is this strange feeling?", he said

"The thing you are feeling right now is LOVE Alex", Ashley responded

"Love huh, I like it", Alex said while starring at her with a smile

Alex was very happy
Oh boy
What joy
He was feeling that day
He kept thinking of Ashley daily
And made a list of things he would say
To her

Months passed by,
As the two young teen begin to walk,
Ashley told Alex something that threw him off

"What are you trying to say?", asked Alex

"Look,I'm sorry about this", Ashley responded "I should have told you this since we met,but I'm in a relationship already."

Oh what damage did poor little Alex received that day
He didn't know how to do,
He didn't know what to say,

He looked away,
Very slowly,
With the feeling of sadness,
He was at the point to just wreck everything.

"What am I suppose to do now?", he asked himself"

"I can't go back with her, I trusted her, why did she do this to me? This is unfair, what did I do to diserve this?"

Five have months passed since the incident
Alex was playing music at the park under a tree,
Far out in the distance
He sees
Ashley crying by the fountain by herself.
He decides to go and cheer her up

"Ashley what's wrong?", Alex asked softly.

"I broke up with my partner, I don't know what to do or feel", she responded

"This reminds me of the incident we had five months ago, I know exactly how you are feeling right now." He said

"I'm sorry about that Alex,can you forgive me,please?",Ashley cried

"I will forgive you,but I won't go back with you, I am now known as 'The Broken and Confused'." He replied as he picked up Ashley from the fountain

Later that day they became friends
Again,



Till this day,
Alex is still known as

"The Broken and Confused"
Its been a while since I've been here on Hello Poetry, I'm all excited to see what you guys think of this =)
Jack P May 2018
Alex is dead.
Alex is indistinguishable from the soil.
Alex is the dissemination of bad ideas, the confusing of such schools of thought.

Ben feels like Alex is.
Ben is lost in a crowd.
Ben is a poor choice of words, on the wrong end of a loaded barrel.

Alex feels nothing.
Alex feels the twitching of an index finger on the trigger.
Alex does not see her target, but catches the vague outline of a thing lost in translation.

Ben misspoke.
Ben makes a sand angel on a beach of excuses.
Ben is the bottom of a wine barrel, sublimates a clenched fist into an outstretched palm.

Alex is the opposite of sublimation.
Alex is subsumed by id.
Alex is locked in the cast iron *** of what she thinks her friend did.

Ben sits down at the table.
Ben places the gun in her hand.  
Ben cannot do this himself; Alex is shaking, shaking, shaken.

This:    
The vacant lot of 2AM - did she hear him correctly?
Not much of a distance for a voice to travel
Meek and fractured though it may be
So surely she heard what he said; the words "pull the trigger".
But what is the f()king point of an epilogue
If it contradicts the book? And what's the f()king point of a moral compass, if the needle is broken? No more can she read and she doesn't know the difference between North and South, she holds a tooth from The Always Open Mouth.

There are three types of people in this world: those who are rocks, those who are hard places, and those are pinned between the first two. Ben is a rock, and Alex isn't sure whether the only way to help both of them is to stay trapped, or to push him down this hill. Alex feels nothing now. And Ben is indistinguishable from the soil.
instant regret under quilt
Alexavier Glenn Mar 2015
Seeing her makes my heart jump
She knows me
She knows my story
She knows Alex and she understands Alex
Yet she knew Alexis before Alex
That name and this body get in the way of Alex
She knows Alex yet still only sees Alexis
She understands Alex but can't envision him like I do.
I can see him clearly because well I am him.
I can see my soon to be muscles.
My soon to be stomach.
My soon to be deeper voice.
My soon to be manly chest.
But...she only sees this body I have now.
All she sees is my feminine chest.
My non-manly stomach
And my high pitch voice.
So maybe one day she will know and see Alex.
Like I can.
Jon Tobias Apr 2012
Looking for love in different faces
Looking for love in carnival mirror beauty

Alex does this
Tells himself that she might actually love him back this time

He sees them all perfectly
Falls for their touch
Can’t tell the difference between passion and love
The difference between being caught up in the moment
And when the moment actually ends

I am going to ******* as hard as we hate ourselves

It takes a long time to actually make love to somebody

And being caught up in the moment hasn’t ended yet
So Alex doesn’t realize this

But it ends eventually

Ends with him wondering

Why is there so much wrong with me
When all I wanted
Was a warm body
Because I don’t know how to sleep alone
I don’t know how to sleep alone

Alex looks at this new girl
Gives her his weight
In patience
In presence
In hope

She doesn’t bite
Doesn’t take the bait
She smiles and removes her clothes
So he can see her carnival mirror clearly

He only sees himself
He wants to stretch her out
So he can make sense of the lies next time

He knows
If he were really broken
She wouldn’t see herself either
Wouldn’t run scared at her own image reflected back
Alex no longer has a carnival mirror

The truth is the scariest thing on the planet
Since like
Ever

And Alex is honest
Knows
People don’t shatter when they feel broken
They melt and make harder
They stretch out

It takes a long time to love yourself
It takes even longer for someone else to love you
Like you want to be loved

Alex has been waiting around
For almost that long

He hasn’t seen that yet
He doesn’t know what his own reflection
Really looks like

But if he’s lucky
He will
First line donated by kelli
Diana Mar 2014
The first words Alex ever said to me were “God ******, you ******* *******!”

See, I had just come to the realization that I was, in fact, worthless. No matter what I did with my life, I would not matter, so it only made sense that I **** myself.

That’s how I ended up on the roof of the tallest building I could find, drunk off of cheap ***** and high on *******, thinking that I could fly. But before I could even put my leg out, someone yanked me back, yelling “God ******, you ******* *******!”

He grabbed me by the neck and led me down and out of the building. He sat me on the curb and looked at me. He was 6’4, probably in his mid twenties with a beard and tattoos completely covering his arms and he said “What the **** were you thinking?”

Back then, I was just a punk kid who thought everyone over the age of nineteen was a ****, so I asked him “Why do **** do you care?” He glared and said “Don’t question it, I just do.”

I told him about my father being a cheating *******, how my mom and I didn't get along, and how I have never, in all my life, felt like I fit in anywhere. I explained to him that I was worthless, he should of just let me jump.

He told me to get up and follow him. I, being made entirely of bad decisions stitched together with recklessness, decided to follow him.

We were in the bad side of town, the streets were laced with drugs and bathed in the blood of untimely death. It’s the kind of place parents told you never to go but was filled with kids from broken homes. He led me to a house where music was playing so loud, the Earth shook and as we entered, I feared that my ears would start to bleed.

It was a party full of people with tattoos and piercings, crazy hair on every head and a drink in every hand. He led me to where a groups of kids were sitting, two girls and three boys. He said:

“This is Jimmy, his parents are divorced. Amy’s dad is an alcoholic. Mary’s big brother killed himself. Jack gets made fun of at school, and Neil is a ******. Literally. Make yourself at home.”

And I did.

See, Alex was like our savior. He told us that as long as we had lungs, we could sing. As long as we had hands, we could break things. As long as our hearts were beating, we were to fight for our lives. He told us that we weren't worthless.

One time, at a concert, some pervert tried to grab my ***. I spun around to punch him, but Alex beat me to it.

Another time, we were at a party, and this chick and I started talking **** to each other. There was no good reason for it, I guess we were both just feeling rowdy. She said something I felt went to far, so I reared back and was about to throw the first punch. Someone grabbed me and put me in a choke hold.

It was Alex

He said: “Kid, what the **** are you doing? You don’t know who these people are, and if they light you up, I ain't setting you out.”

An out of townee Alex had had tift with a few years back went up to him and stabbed him underneath his rib cage. Blood was gushing out of his mouth.

That night, I patched up the holes in my jeans. I went home, said sorry to my mom and dad, and locked myself in my room.

Finally, after three days, I climbed out my window and ran. I ended up on the roof of the same building Alex had pulled me down from. I ended up getting drunk off cheap ***** and high on *******. I felt like I could fly.

Jimmy, Amy, Mary, Jack, Neil and I used to be a family. Now, we only call each other every month or so to make sure we're all ok.

Alex is dead. Sometimes, though, on the nights I feel like I can fly, I can hear him say "Don't be stupid, kid. Keep going."
Alyse Lee Sep 2010
Alice is clingy
Alex keeps her distance

Alice needs attention
Alex prefers staying secluded

Alice stretched the truth
Alex plain out lies

Alice trusts anyone who wants it
Alex isn't to quick to open

Alice  holds a grudge
Alex lets things go

Alice doesn't think
Alex doesn't do

Alice is dead
Alex is very much alive
Alex
Jimmy King Jul 2014
I commit to poems the second that I begin writing them,
And here I am committing to this one,
My cursor on the screen
Tap tap tapping like tap-roots across it’s blue-glowing surface.
With every push of every button,
I begin seeing the blue light
As more than it is. I begin seeing it as a poem.
The blue light that illuminated the Never Sink sinkhole
Was not from a screen.
Nor was it from glowworms.
As I write on this screen though, there is that same blue light
With me still. It is
Streaming from the walls of the cavern,
Still massaging the bags of tiredness
That hang beneath my eyelids to remind me
Of where I just was, having *** with my ex-girlfriend,
And of all the places that I was before that: to remind me
Of the blue lights in Never Sink,
The sinkhole that is 120 feet wide and 170 feet deep that I
Climbed out of on a rope and in the dark,
Which was anything but dark—an unlocked lock
Sat in my driveway after I got home

From having *** with my ex-girlfriend tonight,
And there, in that lock, was a comparison to or an analogy for or a metaphor of
My climb out of Never Sink: gradual ascension
And then a moment
Of absolute awe and profundity so unlike any other profundity
That the clarity I felt absolutely throughout my body tonight
Can only really be brought into my mind with full force
Through a comparison and analogy and metaphor
To, for, and of the blue lights
That that temple provided us. Looking into that lock’s
Reflective gleam, I discovered that I felt
The way I’d felt ever since climbing out of Never Sink, which was exactly
How I’d spent the past year or so wanting to feel.

“Bring me,” I said to Duane, who went with me to Never Sink,
“To the hole in the ground
Where the blue light glows; where the glow-worms lightly blaze” and Duane
Said “okay” and he brought me there without
My ever having to say those words. And then,
In the moments after the sun went down we discovered
That the glowworms were not glowworms but
Armillaria mellea, a bioluminescent fungus.
Not glowworms but Armillaria mellea,
Which rose through and across the cave walls, coating the rock
With its skin. The whole pit was covered in that skin—the skin
Of that single individual.
As I methodically climbed out of the sinkhole on my rope, I felt that
Fungus (that individual) extending
Its black shoelace looking taproots into my lungs too,
And into my skin,
Where I was but where
I wasn’t quite yet. Where I was but
Where I couldn’t yet describe to myself without the use of glowworms—
Without the use of made-up and childish sounding words
Like Depropheria, which I wrote a book about but which
I never really understood, and I, the whole concept of which is flawed,
Feel like I could be the plant on Joe’s counter,
Which he said I already am.
Because if my “I” was in all of its molecules and its “I” was in all of my molecules
Then we would both just be exactly what we already were, Joe said, and so
By the very logic I extended in posing the question
I was and am the plant.

I could be Armillaria mellea too
But what am I if I think that I am glowworms? but really
The glowworms are fungus, and while I ****** my ex-girlfriend tonight, falling
Further into the space away from her, I was also
Scraping away at the walls of Never Sink
To see the tiny little hairs that revealed to Duane and I what really was there,
The Armillaria mellea, of course, but how could something so different
(“**** me, Daniel,” she said, “I feel you inside of me, I want you.”
“**** me,” I said
“”
“I feel myself inside of you, I”)
Be the thing that I am? I would never

Stop the car because I saw something shining on my driveway.
And I would never
Open the car door
And step out into the night with the engine running.
Step out into the night to find an
Unlocked lock
Lying there on the pavement while the song that I tried to live all year
Called In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel blasts loudly
From my Buick’s speakers. Step out into the night
With that song blaring through my open car door, surely waking
My soon to be empty-nested mother from her sleep behind
That second story window
Right up ahead.

I did those things though—I
Stopped the car because I saw something shining on my driveway, and I
Did those things.
I am glow-worms.
I am, and so
I am the plant on Joe’s counter, and so
I can be a glow-worm.
I can be what I already am without knowing or comprehending that I am it.
I can be the whole universe.
I am the whole universe.
I saw over one hundred salamanders at the bottom of Never Sink.
And I saw four different species of salamanders at the bottom of Never Sink.
And I saw six different species of frogs, and I saw
Three brown rat snakes, which thankfully were not copperheads, but which
Could have been glowworms that were copperheads,
I guess. If you ask Joe, anyway. I’m not sure
I believe it fully
Even though when you strip away sentimental definitions of “I”
It’s pretty **** convincing. He was convincing.

I danced around Joe’s counter (where the plant sat, even then)
In September. At the time,
The counter was quickly becoming Alex’s counter,
Because I was becoming close friends with Alex,
And because Alex was Joe’s little sister, and because
Joe had left for the college he’d drop out of,
And during his hiatus from what he’d wanted to run from
It was just
Alex’s counter. It is Joe’s counter again now,
Because Alex has a dumb boyfriend who she likes to kiss
And doesn’t really like to ****
But who she does **** anyway and as a result
Doesn’t really like spending much time not ******* me anymore.
Anyway, I danced

Around Joe’s counter in September, when it was becoming Alex’s counter,
And I sank songs like In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel
With all my new friends. I thought that I
Was living those songs
Because, if my “I” was in the molecules that vibrated when the song played,
And the “I” of those molecules was in me
Then I would be those songs and those songs would be me.
Being the songs wasn’t the same as living the songs, though.
Rising out of Never Sink I saw myself
Reflected in the blue dots of light that Armillaria mellea created.
I saw that I hadn’t been living everything
That I was; I saw that I was the blue dots then, but I also saw
That I didn’t know that the blue dots weren’t glowworms.

When I was dancing
Around Joe’s counter, I didn’t yet know the words
To In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel.
But all my new friends were singing those words, and so I
Screamed out barely-syllabic nonsense
With a smile on my face,
Speaking like a baby who recognizes the existence of language
But can’t yet put it into use.

Rising out of Never Sink
The whole cave opened up, as more and more levels of the sinkhole
Were revealed to be stars and galaxies
Of blue fungus to climb through.
Rising out of Never Sink, I held in my hand
The unlocked lock which I would use later
To weight my pocket as I would sit with these bags of tiredness hanging
Writing this poem late at night on the screen illuminated
By the blue lights of Never Sink. To weight my pocket
As I would sit writing this poem, with
***** excreted thirty minutes prior still resting on my ****
Like the name I haven’t yet learned to call her—
Caterina, Caterina, why did she change it? Maria
Was so pretty, why did she change her name, it was
To get away from me, it was to get away from me like
I wanted to get away from her, it was to get away from me it was
Because she always hated the name Maria. And
To grow more confident in herself
She needed to become
Caterina. She needed to rebrand herself like she worked on rebranding
That company’s logo for her senior thesis project in high school
When I first fell in love with her because
Glowworms lit up Never Sink at night.

They were glowworms in Never Sink
Because the glowworms are fungus
And I am the glowworms.

If you ask Joe.

I want to take some time now to describe
Rising out of Never Sink
Without giving any time
To the lock I found in my drive-way this evening, or
To Joe’s counter-top and how I danced around it knowing
That it wasn’t his but that it was him,
Or to the remnants of Maria, Caterina, and I which are all I, and which
Stick to my ***** still. Never Sink is a sinkhole
That is 170 feet deep
And 120 feet wide at its top.

I went spelunking in Alamaba, Georgia, and/or Tennesse last week
Where I never knew which state or time zone I was in,
And where an annoying but charming guy named Glenn
Led me and my best friend through epic places of infinite beauty.
One of those places was Never Sink,
Which is a sinkhole that is
170 feet deep and
120 feet wide at its top. We repelled into Never Sink
Because Glenn wanted to show us the glowworms
(Which were fungus that were glowworms that were
**** it) and because my friend Duane, who is my best friend, who is
A 39 year-old factory worker who worries that he is much older than he is,
Wanted to see the glowworms too.
We found over a hundred salamanders in Never Sink
And Duane and I discovered that it wasn’t glowworms
That illuminated the pit, but Armillaria mellea, which is a fungus, and
It was very cool.
But ascending through Never Sink was more than very cool,
And it was much more than fungus,
Just as the fungus which I took into my body in August (which it
Almost is again now) after the summer music festival was more
Than just fungus. That fungus was more than just fungus because
I took it into my body right after breaking up with Maria-Caterina (who
I can’t not talk about) For Good (which was
The name of a song they sang
At Maria-Caterina’s high school graduation a year ago, after which
We made love (which was what we called it
Because we were cliché and in love
(Which is what we made.)))

It was a spiritual journey through the cosmos,
In Never Sink,
Or at least that’s how it felt,
And when I climbed out of Never Sink’s mouth, I hugged Duane
And he hugged me and we
Thought that it was beautiful.

I am the plant in Joe’s kitchen.
I am glowworms.
Brent Kincaid Jun 2015
It’s about my husband Alex,
He’s a truly wonderful man
But I fear Alex has gone
For a trip to Wonderland.
He works hard, and long
But lost some of his grip
On reality as it really is
And seems to be on a trip.

Ice trays that fill themselves,
Self-closing cupboard doors,
And magic laundry chutes
That puts clothes back in drawers
Ketchup bottles with 1/10th ounce
And leftovers never consumed.
And of course automobiles
Driven but never get tuned.

In Alex’s fantasyland
He lives across a chasm
Where only he gets hungry
Or gets to have an ******.
He doesn’t answer doorbells
Or incoming calls on the phone.
And, when he’s watching games
He is demands to be left alone.

Presents given out by him
In his fairy tale existence
Are often gift certificates
After a round of insistence.
And, don’t ask my husband
For the date of our anniversary
Or the dates our children
Showed up in the nursery.

I am only mentioning all this
Because I totally understand.
I have read quite a few books.
I have been to Disneyland.
But what I don’t understand
And can’t get into my head
Is why he hasn’t heard me yet,
Or a ****** word I have said.

It isn’t like I haven’t complained
Or told him what I wanted.
But he looks around like maybe
He thinks the house is haunted,
Because he is hearing voices
That he can’t quite understand.
See? What did I tell you?
Alex lives in Wonderland!
Conscious Oct 2018
It was a hot & sunny day in Arizona. Happily floating down a calm river, in between beautiful canyons & deep trenches, was Alex, Lindsey and her whole family. They had floats on their backs with water proof backpacks filled with camping gear, laughing, smiling and enjoying the ride down the natural blue waters, sliding through beautiful vibrant orange 100ft + Arizonian canyons surrounding them. It was coming to an end as their stop was approaching, Lindsey & Alex were trailing last behind Donny, Mrs. & Mr. Schuster, Lauren & even Tom. They approached a small crack in the orange wall, large enough for a few people to fit, where a meander of sand had formed from the cut banks of the river. At this meander, there was a wooden door on the wall. The rest of the family had already passed through the wooden door at this small island into an open green field. As Lindsey and Alex slowly washed up on the small orange shore, she dried herself off, and began to slowly open the door. Feeling oddly content, Alex came to a realization & stopped her with a question: “Lindsey?”… he asked as she slowly turned around and smiled at him. He sighed and calmly asked with a soft, almost defeated, tone of voice, “ … Is this a dream?” She then looked at him, subtly lost her smile, and began to open the door again. Alex slightly nodded his head up and down with understanding. He felt a great sadness but at the same time, a great acceptance of the situation. He got her attention one last time before she left and whispered "ok... I love you." She looked at him with a look of connection and grounded compassion and said "I love you too... goodbye Alex." "Goodbye Lindsey" Alex replied with a tone of finality in his voice. He held back his tears to watch her pass through the wooden door & happily jog through the grass field towards her friends & family & into the loving arms of Tom. He watched them walk away into the sun lit world that embodied the happy feelings he once felt. Once the wooden door shut on him, the temperature dropped & the river started to fill up the cave & wash away the meander. A devastating wave of tears and utmost despair overcame him, pulling his state of mind deep into an intense vortex of darkness within his own mind, destroying every sense of self, forcing his mind, body and soul to become one with infinite sadness.
dream
Elena Ramos Jul 2014
By Elena Ramos©
1
Todays my last day of School before I graduate, go to the University and the most important thing summer vacations, I just hope to be accepted in a good University, and I am talking seriously. All my entire friends are going to travel or do something incredible as always before they start the University, but I cant. My vacations are boring, watch movies at home,I just visit  my grandparents house, or watch tennis games with my dad and brothers. I am the second son of four kids, Julian is the older, I am next, Ryan the third and Georgina the small one. My mother name is Lauren Parker but she was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS) which is basically a sickness that do not **** you but makes your life harder, not only physically but mentally also. Mom started to feel fatigued, loss her concentration constantly and memory, extremely pain in her muscles, and a inexplicable headache. It is a little bit hard for all of us because even if mom is alive she cant do anything for us, she started feeling this way after Gerogina was born, that was sixteen years ago. My dad Julian is the one who suffers the most, they cant do any activity toguether, even watching Tennis Chanel is hard for her, she is more time sleeping than what she spend awake. Georginas sweet sixteen just passed and sadly mom couldn’t  help her to plan the party. All the boys of the house, we help her to plan it, but our ideas **** up that much that she almost cancel the party. Even so, she did it, and she had a good time, all her friends came and dance a lot, my brother Julian buy her some alcohol because he is more than twenty one, and brought some friends with him supposedly to supervise everything and have things calm. Dad was not in the party because  he trusted Julian that everything was going to be fine. All Julian friends were wasted but for my sisters friends they were cool, so at the end we all have fun. Right now is almost Lunch, that means school will end soon. Arnold my best friend of all my life, is sitting next to me making some jokes about Mrs. Frances horrible make up, like if she did it in the dark. I cant believe that during my entire life I did not talk to Mary the hottest girl in the entire school. Her hair so light brown, her beautiful smile, her blue eyes, and her incredible capacity of being the best student of Seattle’s High School make me fall in love of her, sadly I was never able to speak to her, not even a hello in the cafeteria line. Girls like her make boys feel stupid for even believe we have a chance with them. Even Arnold feel the same way with her, just that he is not able to admit it, because he thinks we can fight for her and end our friendship. Lunch is here, we are meeting Sarah a friend of us, but she is a junior, sadly we wont graduate with her. We had this little pact that the three us were going to the same University together and that Sarah was going to meet us the next year too. Seattle pacific University is our best option for now. They offer Arnold a half scholarship, something awesome that I wish could happen to me, thanks god my parents save money for school during their entire life. I live in Seattle the largest city of Washington, Sara mom reserve a table tonight for the three of us to celebrate were out of school in the space needle. Later we can got to a party or something alike, definitely tonight were having some fun. We just meet Sara in the hallway.
-Hey donkies!-said Sarah-
-Hello Sarah-I said in a sarcastic mood. She is an incredible person, probably with the only girl I being so close to. We have even sleep together, I mean the three of us, sometimes when its get to  late and we have a lot to study.
-Nerd, how you doing?-ask Arnold to Sarah.
-Great airhead, cool that your almost graduated!-.reply Sarah.
-Yeah, is pretty awesome that we make it until here, I am ready for the University, imagine how many pretty girls would be there waiting for a nerd to do their homeworks or a shoulder to cry after a break with her boyfriend-Arnold laugh.
-Yes, your still an ******* inmature, I cant believe you have a half scholarship-Sarah said.
-Its fine the two of you, let quick so we can make it to the cafeteria line, before all those ******* of the football team-I said.
The cafeteria was still empty, we made it before the athletes. I even said goodbye to the lady who served the food. She was nice to me, she serve me more green grapes or more French fries every Tuesday. This is one of the things I will miss the most from the school, too many memories, things that with the time I will forget, i wish to have more time here, I guess I love my school, or I am scared of growing up, and becoming an adult. We sat in the last table of the cafeteria, I wanted to observe all the room for the last time, full of people I used to know. It is funny how ironic the day gets, you desire this last day of school all your life, but when it comes, you want to fall back again to the first day of school where you start everything, where you meet your best friend of all your life, Arnold and Sarah in this case, your first breakup or your first party, or the day you kiss a girl for the first time, something it has not happened to me yet. I want it to be real and true, I know it sounds funny, but I am still a old school boy, when its related to how treats ladies. Even if I had the chance to be with one I will never do something, first of all because I respect them a lot, I always think of Georgina, I will treat girls the way I wish my sister be treated someday by a dude.
-In what your thinking Alex?-ask Sarah eating in a silly way her sandwich.
I reply-Well, to be honest I am sad-
Arnold laugh instantly after my answer-how you dare to say your sad, if you were always saying you wanted to graduated and getting the hell out of here-.
-I know I said it, but think in this, what will happen after we graduate, we wont see you often Sarah, you will have new friends, Arnold you will be busy meeting new girls and being a Casanova, and I probably will be in my dorm reading some Mangas, or listening music, or worst talking with my family.-I said.
-Don’t worry Alex it wont happen, I bet you wont do skype with your family only once every six months, I swear. Don’t take your mangas collection, you will seem yourself weird and nerd, not to offend you but its true, and yes I will be a Casanova, hope god listen you-.Arnold said in a inspirational mood.
-Thanks dude, you’re the best-I said to Arnold – and about my manga collection I don’t promess you nothing, I gues that instead of taking the all I will only take ten, and read the rest online-.
-I cant believe your sad Alex, I wish to be graduating now, I cant handle one year anymore-said Sarah.
-Well your day will come soon Sarah, your senior year will be awesome I promess-I said.
While everyone was getting ready for the last period of class I couldn’t take my eyes off Mary, beautiful face. She was wearing this beautiful white dress, with her pink Vans. All I can said she look like an angel,her breast was incredible good locking, all in her was just perfect. Sadly she was dating someone bigger than her, he picked up her always after school, all I can said is that a lady like her deserve something better, a men that respect her, take care, and treat her delicately; but that ****, dressed like a lazy men, his hair was awful, the loudness of his music was horrible, and he smoked in her face, I mean at 2 centimeters from her face. Sometimes I said to myself she deserves me, even if it was a crazy idiot idea I knew I could treat her as the lady she was and make her happy.

Bell just ring, last class period, maybe the teacher will said some last words and school stuff be decline today. I just want it to end now, I want it to be night, I want to go to any good party we were not invited but we enter anyway. Sara mom was too gentile in paying a dinner for the three of us. I guess that school will end but I feel its time to wake up a part of me I never knew it existed; the free man. ©

CHAPTER 2 SOON ...
By
Alexander K Opicho

(Eldoret, Kenya; aopicho@yahoo.com)


Spiritual scholars of Christian Science have a concept that there is
power in the name. They at most identify the name Jesus and the name
of God, Jehovah to be the most powerful names in the spiritual realm.
But in the world of literature and intellectual movement, art,
science, politics and creativity, the name Alexander is mysteriously
powerful. Averagely, bearers of the name Alexander achieve some unique
level of literary or intellectual glory, discover something novel or
make some breakaway political victories.

Among the ancient and present-day Russians, most bearers of the name
Alexander were imbued with some uniqueness of intellect, leadership or
literary mighty. Beginning with the recent times of Russia, the first
mysterious Alexander is the 1700 political reformist and effective
leader, Tsar Alexander and his beautiful wife, tsarina Alexandrina.
The couple transformed Russian society from pathetic peasantry to a
middle class society. It is Tsar Alexander’s leadership that lain a
foundation for Russian socialist revolution. Different scholars of
Russian history remember the reign of Tsar Alexander with a strong

bliss. This is what made the Lenin family to name their son Alexander
an elder brother to Vladimir Ilyanovsk Ilyich Lenin. This was done as
parental projection through careful   choice of a mentor for their
young son. Alexander Lenin was named after this formidable ruler; Tsar
Alexander. Alexander Lenin was a might scholar. An Intellectual and
political reformist. He was a source of inspiration to his young
brother Vladimir Ilyich Lenin, who became the Russian president after
his brother Alexander, had died through political assassination.
However, researches into distinctive prowess of these two brothers
reveal that Alexander Lenin was more gifted intellectually than
Vladimir Lenin.

Alexander Pushkin, another Russian personality with intellectual,
cultural, theatrical and   literary consenguences. He was a
contemporary of Alexander pope. He is the main intellectual influence
behind Nikolai Vasileyvich Gogol and very many other Russian writers.
He is to Russians what Shakespeare is to English speakers or victor
Hugo is to French speakers, Friedriech schiller and Frantz Kafka is to
Germany readers or Miguel de Cervantes to the Spaniards. Among English
readers, Shakespeare’s drama of king Lear is a beacon of English
political theatre, while Hugo’s Les miscerables is an apex of French
social and political literature, but Pushkin’s Boris Godunov, a
theatrical political satire, technically towers above the peers. For
your point of information my dear reader; there has been a
commonaplace false convention among English literature scholars that,
William Shakespeare in conjunction with Robert Greene wrote and
published highest number of books, more than anyone else. The factual
truth is otherwise. No, they only published 90 works, but Pushkin
published 700 works.
Equally glorious is Alexander Vasileyvich sholenstsyn,the, the, the
author of I will be on phone by five, Cancer Ward, Gulag Archipelago’
and the First Cycle. He is a contemporary of Leo Tolstoy, Fyodor
Dostoyevsky, Alfred Nobel and Maxim Gorky. Literary and artistic
excellence of Alexander Sholenstsyn,the, the anti-communist Russian
novelist was and is still displayed through his mirroring of a corrupt
Russian communist politics, made him a debate case among the then
committee members for Nobel prize and American literature prize, but
when the Kremlin learned of this they, detained Alexander sholenenstyn
at Siberia for 18 years this is where he wrote his Gulag Archipelago.
Which he wrote as sequel five years later to the previous novel the
Cancer Ward whose main theme is despair among cancer patients in the
Russian hospitals. This was simply a satirical way of expressing agony
of despair among the then political prisoners at Siberia concentration
camps .In its reaction to this communist front to capitalist
literature through the glasnost machinery, the Washington government
ordered chalice Chaplin an American pro-communist writer to be out of
America within 45 minutes.
Alexander’s; Payne, Pato, Petrovsky, and Pires are intellectual
torchbearers of the world and Russian literary civilization. Not to
forget, Alexander Popov, a poet and Russian master brewer, whose
liquor brand ‘Popov’ is the worldwide king of bar shelves?
In 1945 the Russians had very brutish two types of guns, designed to
shoot at long range with very little chances of missing the target.
These guns are; AK 47 and the Molotov gun. They were designed to
defeat the German **** and later on to be used in international
guerrilla movement. The first gun AK 47 was designed by Alexander
klashilinikov and the second by Alexander Molotov. These are the two
Alexander’s that made milestones in history of world military
technology.
The name Alexander was one of the titles or the epithet used to be
given to the Greek goddess Hera and as such is taken to mean the one
who comes to save warriors. In Homer’s epical work; the Iliad, the
most dominant character Paris who often saved the other warriors was
also known also as Alexander. This name’s linkage to popularity was
spread throughout the Greek world by the military maneuvers and
conquests of King Alexander III. Alexander III is commonly known as
Alexander the Great .  Evidently; the biblical book of Daniel had a
prophecy. It was about fall of empires down to advent of Jesus as a
final ruler. The prophecy venerated Roman Empire above all else. As
well the, prophecy magnified military brilliance, intellect and
leadership skills of the Greek, Alexander the great, the conqueror of
Roman Empire. Alexander the great was highly inspired by the secret
talks he often held with his mother. All bible readers and historians
have reasons to believe that Alexander of Greece was powerful,
intellectually might, strong in judgment and a political mystery and
enigma that remain classic to date.
In his book Glimpses of History, jewarlal Nehru discusses the Guru
Nanak as an Indian religious sect, Business Empire, clan, caste, and
an intellectual movement of admirable standard that shares a parrell
only with the Aga Khans. Their   founder is known, as Skander Nanak
.The name skander is an Indian version for Alexander. Thus, Alexander
Nanak is the founder of Guru Nanak business empire and sub Indian
spiritual community. Alexander Nanak was an intellectual, recited
Ramayana and Mahabharata off head; he was both a secular and religious
scholar as well as a corporate strategist.
The American market and industrial civilsations has very many
wonderful Alexander’s in its history. The earliest known Alexander in
American is Hamilton, the poet, writer, politician and political
reformist. Hamilton strongly worked for establishment of American
constitution. Contemporaries of Hamilton are; Alexander graham bell
and Alexander flemming.bell is the American scientist who discovered a
modern electrical bell, while Fleming, A Nobel Prize Laureate
discovered that fungus on stale bread can make penicillin to be used
in curing malaria. Other American Alexander’s are; wan, Ludwig,
Macqueen, Calder and ovechikin.
Italian front to mysterious greatness in the name Alexander
spectacularly emanates from science of electricity which has a
measuring unit for electrical volume known as voltage. The name of
this unit is a word coined from the Italian name Volta. He was an
Italian scientist by the name Alesandro Volta. Alesandro is an Italian
version for Alexander. Therefore it is Alexander Volta an Italian
scientist who discovered volume of electrical energy as it moves along
the cable. Thus in Italian culture the name Alexander is also a
mystery.
Readers of European genre and classics agree that it is still
enjoyfull to read the Three Musketeers and the Poor Christ of
Montecristo for three or even more times. They are inspiring, with a
depth of intellectual character, and classic in lessons to all
generations. These two classics were written by Alexander Dumas, a
French literary genious.he lived the same time as Hugo and
Dostoyevsk.when Hugo was writing the Hunch-back of Notredame Dumas was
writing the Three Musketeers. These two books were the source of
inspiration for Dostoyevsky to write Brothers Karamazov. Another
notable European- *** -American Alexander is  Alexander pope, whose
adage ‘short knowledge is dangerous,’ has remained a classic and ever
quoted across a time span of two centuries. Alexander pope penned this
line in the mid of 1800 in his poem better drink from the pyrene
spring.

In the last century colleges, Universities and high schools in Kenya
and throughout Africa, taught Alexander la Guma and Alexander Haley as
set- book writers for political science, literature and drama courses.
Alexander la Guma is a South African, ant–apartheid crusader and a
writer of strange literary ability. His commonly read books are A walk
in the Night, Time of the Butcher Bird and In the Fog of the Season’s
End. While Alexander Haley is an African in the American Diaspora. An
intellectual heavy- weight, a politician, civil a rights activist and
a writer of no precedent, whose book The Roots is a literary
blockbuster to white American artists. Both la Guma and Haley are
African Alexander’s only that white bigotry in their respective
countries of America and South Africa made them to be called Alex’s.
The Kenyan only firm for actuaries is Alexander Forbes consultants.
Alexander Forbes was an English-American mathematician. The lesson
about Forbes is that mystery within the name Alexander makes it to be
the brand of corporate actuarial practice in Africa and the entire
world.
Something hypothetical and funny about this name Alexander is that its
dictionary definition is; homemade brandy in Russia, just the way the
east African names; Wamalwa, Wanjoi and Kimaiyo are used among the
Bukusu, Agikuyu and Kalenjin communities of Kenya respectively. More
hypothetical is the lesson that the short form of Alexander is Alex;
it is not as spiritually consequential in any manner as its full
version Alexander. The name Alex is just plain without any powers and
spiritual connotation on the personality and character of the bearer.
The name Alexander works intellectual miracles when used in full even
in its variants and diminutives as pronounced in other languages that
are neither English nor Greece. Presumably the - ander section of the
name (Alex)ander is the one with life consequences on the history of
the bearer. Also, it is not clear whether they are persons called
Alexander who are born bright and gifted or it is the name Alexander
that conjures power of intellect and creativity on them.
In comparative historical scenarios this name Alexander has been the
name of many rulers, including kings of Macedon, kings of Scotland,
emperors of Russia and popes, the list is infinite. Indeed, it is bare
that when you poke into facts from antiques of politics, religion and
human diversity, there is rich evidence that there is substantial
positive spirituality between human success and social nomenclature in
the name of Alexander. Some cases in archaic point are available in a
listological exposition of early rulers on Wikipedia. Some names on
Wikipedia in relation to the phenomenon of Alexanderity are: General
Alexander; more often known as Paris of Troy as recounted by Homer in
his Iliad. Then ensues a plethora; Alexander of Corinth who was the
10th king of Corinth , Alexander I of Macedon, Alexander II of
Macedon, Alexander III of Macedonia alias  Alexander the Great. There
is still in the list in relation to Macedonia, Alexander IV  and
Alexander V. More facts of the antiques have   Alexander of Pherae who
was the despotic ruler of Pherae between 369 and 358 before the Common
Era. The land of Epirus had Alexander I the king of Epirus about 342
before the Common Era and Alexander II  the king of Epirus 272 before
the Common Era. A series of other Alexander’s in the antiques is
composed of ; Alexander the  viceroy of Antigonus Gonatas and also the
ruler of a **** state based on Corinth in 250 before the common era,
then Alexander Balas, ruler of the Seleucid kingdom of Syria between
150 and 146 before the common era . Next in the list is  Alexander
Zabinas the ruler of part of the Seleucid kingdom of Syria based in
Antioch between 128 and 123  before the common era ,  then Alexander
Jannaeus king of Judea, 103 to 76  before the common era  and last but
not least  Alexander of Judaea  son of Aristobulus  II the  king of
Judaea .  The list of Alexander’s in relation to the antiquated  Roman
empire are; Alexander Severus, Julius Alexander who lived during the
second  century as the Emesene nobleman, Then next is Domitius
Alexander the Roman usurper who declared himself emperor in 308. Next
comes Alexander the emperor of Byzantine. Political antiques of
Scotland have Alexander I , Alexander II and Alexander III of Scotland
. The list cannot be exhausted but it is only a testimony that there
are a lot of Alexander’s in the antiques of the world.
Religious leadership also enjoys vastness of Alexander’s. This is so
among the Christians and non Christians, Catholics and Protestants and
even among the charismatic and non-charismatic. These historical
experiences start with Alexander kipsang Muge the Kenyan Anglican
Bishop who died in a mysterious accident during the Kenyan political
dark days of Moi. But when it comes to  The antiques  catholic
pontifical history, there is still a plethora of them as evinced on
Wikipedia ; Pope Alexander I , Alexander of Apamea also the  bishop of
Apamea, Pope Alexander II ,Pope Alexander III, Pope Alexander IV, Pope
Alexander V, Pope Alexander VI, Pope Alexander VII, Pope Alexander
VIII, Alexander of Constantinople the bishop of Constantinople , St.
Alexander of Alexandria also the  Coptic Pope and Patriarch of
Alexandria between  then Pope Alexander II of Alexandria the  Coptic
Pope  and lastly Alexander of Lincoln the bishop of Lincoln and
finally  Alexander of Jerusalem.
However, the fact of logic is inherent in the premise that there is
power in the name .An interesting experience I have had is that; when
Eugene Nelson Mandela ochieng was kidnapped in Nairobi sometimes ago,
a friend told me that there is power in the name. The name Mandela on
a Nairobi born Luo boy attracts strong fortune and history making
eventualities towards the boy, though fate of the world interferes,
the boy Eugene Mandela ochieng is bound to be great, not because he
was kidnapped but because he has an assuring name Nelson Mandela. With
extension both in Africa and without ,May God the almighty add all
young Alexander’s to the traditional list of other great and
formidable  Alexander’s that came before. Amen.

References;
Jewarlal Nehru; Glimpses of History


Alexander K Opicho is a social researcher with Sanctuary Researchers
ltd in Eldoret, Kenya he is also a lecturer in Research Methods in
governance and Leadership.
Fah Aug 2013
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jeffrey-lebowski:

Untitled by Yayoi Kusama.
Acrylic on canvas, 45.5 x 38.0 cm. Signed and dated 1993
jeffrey-lebowski:
Untitled by Yayoi Kusama.
Acrylic on canvas, 45.5 x 38.0 cm. Signed and dated 1993
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These are the days that must happen to you.
Walt Whitman, from Leaves Of Grass (via violentwavesofemotion)
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18 HOURS AGO / LARMOYANTE
axiatonal:

Canola Flowers Field, China
axiatonal:
Canola Flowers Field, China
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whatisadvertising:
What would modern technology and social networks look like if they were vintage ads
This is a post gathered Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, Skype, iMac, Nintendo Wii and Sony Playstation as if they were vintage ads.
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aplacetofindlife:

Someone Should Start Laughing
I have a thousand brilliant lies For the question: How are you?  I have a thousand brilliant lies For the question: What is God? If you think that the Truth can be known From words, If you think that the Sun and the Ocean Can pass through that tiny opening Called the mouth,
O someone should start laughing! Someone should start wildly Laughing Now!- Hafiz
aplacetofindlife:
Someone Should Start Laughing

I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:
How are you?

I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:
What is God?

If you think that the Truth can be known
From words,

If you think that the Sun and the Ocean
Can pass through that tiny opening Called the mouth,

O someone should start laughing!
Someone should start wildly Laughing Now!

- Hafiz
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meditationsinwonderland:
Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche, We Should All Be Feminists
How could I not reblog this?
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1 day ago – 234,004 notes

artismyempire:
gentledom:
A wonderful analogy.
What I shall do today.
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1 day ago – 30,054 notes

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1 week ago – 81 notes
beachsloth:

SYNESTHESIA by Joshua Espinoza
                God watches everyone’s first kiss. Although God used to be an awesome God He’s been a bit lazier as the years have progressed. Long ago God felt that raining frogs on Egypt was cool. People were turned into pillars of salt for looking at the destruction of their towns. Now God isn’t into that whole vengeful thing. Rather He realizes the importance of free will and understands it is more important than any instruction manual.
                Dreams are the ultimate instructional manual. Sub-conscious hates being a sub. Sub-conscious wants to be dom-conscious. Unfortunately such things do not happen anymore. Drinking dreams from people is potentially delicious. Flab is the hallmark of a family man or woman. Their dreams have become realities. Mere impulses of creatures become vaguely self-sustaining then fully self-sustaining. Right in the heart is where the familial love lives. Floaters in the eyes are more than floaters. When one sees floaters they see ghosts. Floaters are ghosts for the vision-impaired.
                Afterlife is big into God. Death brings people closer to God. They live in God’s domain hoping for the best. From on high the angels live on the down low. Beneath angels are the exciting ones, the ones they can and do mess up. Humans are interesting for their ability to mess up all the time and somehow remain completely loved. Every human is made in God’s image. Once people come back to God they realize how much of their decisions were good, how the evil was more than counterbalanced by the good. Living in Earth tends to make people forget how fortunate they really are.
                The world hates leaving people behind. In Heaven everything is fine. From Heaven people can see themselves from light-years away. Such distance makes it easier to see what the right and wrong decision was. Death takes the people away. Online presences remain long after the body has left. Everything has a digital footprint entirely different from their real life footprint. Sometimes it is bigger and sometimes smaller. It depends on the lust for life.
                Kissing is a form of lust. Lips love each other. Lips like locking together. That is where the key to the heart comes from, from the lips. Words flow from the mouths of babes. Life means the words work well but the tones work better. Even babies understand the importance of tone. Words are meaningless. Tones are tender. People wrap themselves up in tones, in the environmental sounds that surround them for that is what it means to be alive: it means to interact.
beachsloth:
SYNESTHESIA by Joshua Espinoza
                God watches everyone’s first kiss. Although God used to be an awesome God He’s been a bit lazier as the years have progressed. Long ago God felt that raining frogs on Egypt was cool. People were turned into pillars of salt for looking at the destruction of their towns. Now God isn’t into that whole vengeful thing. Rather He realizes the importance of free will and understands it is more important than any instruction manual.
                Dreams are the ultimate instructional manual. Sub-conscious hates being a sub. Sub-conscious wants to be dom-conscious. Unfortunately such things do not happen anymore. Drinking dreams from people is potentially delicious. Flab is the hallmark of a family man or woman. Their dreams have become realities. Mere impulses of creatures become vaguely self-sustaining then fully self-sustaining. Right in the heart is where the familial love lives. Floaters in the eyes are more than floaters. When one sees floaters they see ghosts. Floaters are ghosts for the vision-impaired.
                Afterlife is big into God. Death brings people closer to God. They live in God’s domain hoping for the best. From on high the angels live on the down low. Beneath angels are the exciting ones, the ones they can and do mess up. Humans are interesting for their ability to mess up all the time and somehow remain completely loved. Every human is made in God’s image. Once people come back to God they realize how much of their decisions were good, how the evil was more than counterbalanced by the good. Living in Earth tends to make people forget how fortunate they really are.
                The world hates leaving people behind. In Heaven everything is fine. From Heaven people can see themselves from light-years away. Such distance makes it easier to see what the right and wrong decision was. Death takes the people away. Online presences remain long after the body has left. Everything has a digital footprint entirely different from their real life footprint. Sometimes it is bigger and sometimes smaller. It depends on the lust for life.
                Kissing is a form of lust. Lips love each other. Lips like locking together. That is where the key to the heart comes from, from the lips. Words flow from the mouths of babes. Life means the words work well but the tones work better. Even babies understand the importance of tone. Words are meaningless. Tones are tender. People wrap themselves up in tones, in the environmental sounds that surround them for that is what it means to be alive: it means to interact.
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1 week ago – 74 notes

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1 week ago – 78 notes
maymonsturr:

My mantra.
maymonsturr:
My mantra.
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1 week ago – 568 notes
foxxxynegrodamus:

***
foxxxynegrodamus:
***
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cosmic-rebirth:

Live joyfully, make your life a dance, all the way to the grave.
cosmic-rebirth:
Live joyfully, make your life a dance, all the way to the grave.
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2 weeks ago – 22,305 notes
“The point is not to pay back kindness but to pass it on.”
– Julia Alvarez (via cosmic-rebirth)
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bl4ckhippie:

Fly.
bl4ckhippie:
Fly.
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2 weeks ago – 110,456 notes
meditationsinwonderland:

ॐ flower child in Wonderland ॐ
meditationsinwonderland:
ॐ flower child in Wonderland ॐ
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pleoros:
Helminadia Ranford - Guilin,China
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designgather:

Oak Room
Andy Goldsworthy
designgather:
Oak Room
Andy Goldsworthy
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2 weeks ago – 286 notes
miguu:
don’t be afraid.
lean into your genius.
let your own brilliance support you.
you are something
we have all been waiting to know.
please.
(via bluishtigers)
2 weeks ago – 339 notes

odditiesoflife:
Amazing Jabuticaba Tree
This is an incredible tree that bears its fruit directly on the main trunks and branches of the plant, lending a distinctive appearance to the fruiting tree. The jabuticaba (Plinia cauliflora) is a fruit-bearing tree native to Minas Gerais and São Paulo in southeastern Brazil. Otherwise known as the Brazilian Grape Tree, the jabuticaba is grown for its purplish-black, white-pulped fruits. They can be eaten raw or be used to make jellies and drinks, including juice and wine.
They are wonderful trees to have and are fairly adaptable to most environments but they grow extremely slow. Jabuticaba flowers are white and grow directly from its trunk, just like its fruit. The tree may flower and fruit only once or twice a year, but when continuously irrigated, it flowers frequently and fresh fruit can be available year round in tropical regions.
Common in Brazilian markets, jabuticabas are largely eaten fresh; their popularity has been likened to that of grapes in the US. Due to its extremely short shelf-life, fresh jabuticaba fruit is very rare in markets outside of areas of cultivation. So if you are ever in Brazil, be sure to try the incredibly tasty fruit called jabuticaba.
source 1, 2
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oecologia:

Star Trails over Matterhorn (Switzerland) by Felix Lamouroux.
oecologia:
Star Trails over Matterhorn (Switzerland) by Felix Lamouroux.
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burningveins:
multicolors:
benskid:
Know where you stand.
Wow
This is kinda creepy..
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Do not think you will necessarily be aware of your own enlightenment.
Zen Master Dogen - (1200- 1253) AD (via samsaranmusing)
2 WEEKS AGO
101fuymemes:

COLLECTION OF awesome CLOUDS
101fuymemes:
COLLECTION OF awesome CLOUDS
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itscolossal:
Planetary Structural Layer Cakes Designed by Cakecrumbs

Do not resist events that move you out of your comfort zone, especially when your comfort zone was not all that comfortable.
Alan Cohen (via raeraenjma)
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4 WEEKS AGO / THE-HEALING-NEST
so apt
so apt
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treewellie:

"The area between Kluane Lake and Haines Junction, Yukon, skirting the great cordillera of the Wrangell / St. Elias Mtn. range, is commonly productive of these stacked lenticular clouds … In late summer, as the sun begins to set around 11 PM, it’s beautiful to see these unique clouds, which are higher in altitude than their surrounding companions, catching the last peach coloured rays of the sun."
treewellie:
"The area between Kluane Lake and Haines Junction, Yukon, skirting the great cordillera of the Wrangell / St. Elias Mtn. range, is commonly productive of these stacked lenticular clouds … In late summer, as the sun begins to set around 11 PM, it’s beautiful to see these unique clouds, which are higher in altitude than their surrounding companions, catching the last peach coloured rays of the sun."
definitelydope:

BBQ on the balcony (by fernlicht)
definitelydope:
BBQ on the balcony (by fernlicht)
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Birth by Alex Grey
Birth by Alex Grey
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There is a time and place for decaf coffee. Never and in the trash.
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1 MONTH AGO / MIDWESTRAISEDMIDWESTLIVING
surreelust:

Man with His Skin by Peter Zokosky
surreelust:
Man with His Skin by Peter Zokosky
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Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You have seen your own strength.
You have seen your own beauty.
You have seen your golden wings.
Of anything less,
why do you worry?
You are in truth
the soul, of the soul,
of the soul.
Rumi, from Who Am I?   (via bluishtigers)
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1 MONTH AGO / VIOLENTWAVESOFEMOTION
xpudding:

xpudding:
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treewellie:

La costa de la luz by Francisco Mingorance
treewellie:
La costa de la luz by Francisco Mingorance

itscolossal:
Mirror City: A Kaleidoscopic Timelapse of Chicago, San Francisco, San Diego, Vegas and L.A. [VIDEO]

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awkwardsituationist:
gmb akash documents the 350 kilometre journey from dhaka to sylhet, bangladesh made by those who, unable to afford the price of a ticket or find room to ride inside, risk death by traveling atop and between train cars
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purpleaggregates:

White Tara The female enlightened being of long life, wisdom and good fortune When I see the signs of untimely death, May I immediately receive the blessings of Arya Tara; And, having destroyed the Lord of Death, May I quickly attain the deathless vajra body. OM TARE TUTTARE TURE MAMA AYUR PUNAYE GYANA PUTRIM KURU YE SÖHA OM TARE TUTTARE TURE SÖHA
purpleaggregates:
White Tara
The female enlightened being of long life, wisdom and good fortune

When I see the signs of untimely death,
May I immediately receive the blessings of Arya Tara;
And, having destroyed the Lord of Death,
May I quickly attain the deathless vajra body.

OM TARE TUTTARE TURE MAMA AYUR PUNAYE GYANA PUTRIM KURU YE SÖHA
OM TARE TUTTARE TURE SÖHA
(via dancingdakini)

(via guerrillatech)
hungryforworld:

Monet’s Garden. Givery, France.
hungryforworld:
Monet’s Garden. Givery, France.

(via awaveofbliss)

(via cosmic-rebirth)

Internal and external are ultimately one. When you no longer perceive the world as hostile, there is no more fear, and when there is no more fear, you think, speak and act differently. Love and compassion arise, and they affect the world.
Eckhart Tolle (via samsaranmusing)
(via suntochukwu)
1 MONTH AGO / SAMSARANMUSING
malformalady:

The golden spiral of fungus. In geometry, a golden spiral is a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor is φ, the golden ratio. That is, a golden spiral gets wider (or further from its origin) by a factor of φ for every quarter turn it makes.
Photo credit: Devin Raber
malformalady:
The golden spiral of fungus. In geometry, a golden spiral is a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor is φ, the golden ratio. That is, a golden spiral gets wider (or further from its origin) by a factor of φ for every quarter turn it makes.
Photo credit: Devin Raber
(via deeperthansoul)
polaroidsf:

Welcome to Eden
polaroidsf:
Welcome to Eden

(via bouddra)

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of
meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for
your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
Francie Lynch Feb 2018
I have this friend
          (it's really me)
Who has this girlfriend
          (who's really she)
Who has this quirk
          (really several)
Which she'd deny
          (which is another)
She's not anti-gay,
Sees right past color, creed and ethnicity;
Sees women for being women,
Men for men,
And any combination thereof,
And vice versa.
No, she can see right past bigotry,
Is blind to prejudice,
But has an innate drive that goes straight for wardrobe.
From the gowns of celebs,
To the color of Alex Trebek's tie.
A sartorist, that's what she is.
          
          I heard that.
          And I am not.


          (contrary too)
sartor: clothing
Look at poor Alex slumped on the floor.
Preoccupied with her own inferiority, talking to Bob to try to escape the life she hates.
Her incoherent mutterings co-mingle with her dribbling drool.  
Poor, poor Alex living in the shadow of everything she thinks was stolen from her.
Alex has learned to cope through the haze of chemicals and denial as she percieves those flames of hell licking at her to be the warm sun.
Poor, poor Alex.
Always wishing there was something more.
preservationman May 2017
Two guys living together
Personalities differ from the other
One cooks the best
Well the other, but is there a Lawyer that I can confess
One day Alex met a woman on his job
He hadn’t dated in a while so all he did at night was sob
So as Alex was talking and being on the heavy side, the buttons on his shirt began to pop off one by one
The woman in question from the Alex’s job named Jennifer wanted to laugh, but just felt this is not happening
Now Robert always tried to be suave
Yet his life was full of problems he often had to solve
In fact, he would burn a Pop ****
Now that is just a start
Once Robert went to a club to get his dance on
Well the dance floor he didn’t belong
Robert was taken to the hospital with leg pain and being sore
It was a sharp pain Robert couldn’t ignore
Well the aftermath of Robert and Alex are buddies are always wanted to have fun
They always wanted to be among
In fact, they are going to life until they are done
Friends for life
They might need advice
Questions with everyone thinking twice
Nothing fancy nor spice
It is just when you know Alex and Robert you pay the price
Run while you still can.
keepsake7 May 2018
Alex said she couldn't wait to grow up
Alex said every thought in her head
Alex didn't leave home without a smile everyone who knew said she was a "happy girl"
Alex went away for a few days and was different afterwards
Alex screamed about demons in her head
Alex arms started having scars
Alex once said she couldn't wait to grow up
So why did Alex **** herself
Hazel McCath Nov 2013
Hey Alex,
I went to visit you yesterday
I wore the dress you got me on our third anniversary.
I brought daisies and dandelions, combination of our favourite.

Memories of you in the hospital, vivid.
Laying on the uncomfortable bed
Face paled, the faint blush you wore, long disappeared.
I clung onto your arm that was connected to the IV

Watching you fall into coma with that beautiful carved smile,
Reminded me of our cherished moments
Our sweet memories came and haunt

Remember Moo's Ice Cream Land?
Our very first encounter.
You said you were enchanted by
my beauty
Oh the charming excuse you used when you spilt chocolate mint ice cream on my blouse.

Remember Hails Overlook?
We watched the sunset together
I saw you tremble when you took out the ring
It was a promise, that we were forever.

I also remembered our fateful dinner.
You weren't well, but it was our third anniversary
As soon as the food was served,
You clutched your heart and screamed out with agony

Rushing to the hospital,
Cancer was devil, the doctor figured.
Your mother wept, your father shed a single tear
And I, ran as far as I could and.. and died a little.

The daisies and dandelions I brought
Fresh from the town's florist
I gently place them on your grave
And kissed your engraved name on the stone
Goodbye Alex.
Chapter 9

“Startled, I pulled away from the man’s grasp and looked at his face. Although he wore a tag that read “Hotel Security” I sensed that there was much more to him than that.
“What’s this about?” I asked sharply, noticing that he was avoiding eye contact.
Clenching his jaw, the man grabbed my arm again, this time more firmly. “Don’t worry, Red, you’ll find out soon enough.”
I hated it when guys called me Red. It was always in a smug way. “Hey, let me go!” I demanded, trying to get away from the *******. But he was strong. Immortally strong.
He ****** me against him and whispered, “Calm the hell down and you won’t get hurt.”
“Are you one of Vlad’s men?”
“You’ll have your questions answered in a few minutes. Just chill out, will you?”
“Not really having any other choice, I allowed the man to usher me away from the restaurant, toward the back of The Veil. Hotel guests watched us curiously.
“Are you okay, dear?” asked an older woman in her seventies. She had a cane and looked about ready to hit my captor with it.
“She’s fine. We don’t allow prostitutes in the hotel,” he said loudly.
Normally I wouldn’t care, but my cheeks burned with shame as the old woman stared at me with disgust.
“Harlot,” she said, glaring at me.
“I’m not a *******,” I said, gritting my teeth. Furious at the way I was being treated, I tried pulling away from him again, but he only dug his fingers into my skin deeper.
“Would you just relax?” he said, as we turned down another hallway. “I’m doing this for your own good.”
“Doesn’t feel that way on my end,” I replied angrily.
“If you’d stop fighting me, I wouldn’t have to resort to this.”
“Then tell me what the hell this is about!”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
I sighed loudly.
We stopped at a door that was marked ‘Security’ and he led me inside. To my surprise, there was a long conference desk with two men sitting next to it.
“Is this her, Nate?” asked one of them, a blonde Nordic-looking guy in an expensive suit.
“She’s just as he described. Plus, she has the mark,” said the guy, releasing my arm.
I rubbed the skin where his fingers had pressed cruelly. “You mean the mark on my wrist from your fingers, *******?”
“Sorry,” said Nate, addressing the two men at the table more than me. “She kept trying to get away.”
“Leave us,” ordered the blonde, frowning at Nate.
“Yes, sir.” Nate turned and walked out the door.
I sighed wearily, wishing I would have never gotten out of bed. “So, who in the hell are you people?”
“I’m sorry, lass. My name is Aiden Rylan and this is Maximus Johnson,” said the blonde, his Irish accent noticeable now.
I folded my arms under my chest, studying both men. Both of them were undeniably rugged, handsome, and obvious big-shots. “And why should that matter to me?”
Aiden’s lip[…]”
“Natel’s part in it. The ******* had made me look like a cheap *****. “Who is this mutual acquaintance?”
“Doris Hart,” said Maximus.
Another surprise. “Really? And how do you know Dorian?” I asked, now sitting down.
“The three of us are long-time friends,” said Aiden.
“But you’re lycan,” I replied. From what I’d gathered over the years, most weren’t too chummy with vampires.
“Yes. We’ve learned to push our differences aside,” said Andrew, his eyes twinkling.
“The truth is that we don’t judge anyone unless they pose a threat,” said Maximus. “And we’ve known Doris Hart for several years. He’s done us favors and now we’re returning one for him.”
“And that is to protect me?” I said, flattered that Doris was still worried about me. He must have really loved my mother.
“Yes. He was very adamant on that. Sorry for your loss, by the way,” said Andrew, his face turning somber.
At the mention of my mother’s death, I looked down at my nails, trying not to tear up. “Thanks.”
“I never met Lilith, but Andrew knew her,” said Maximus, his voice kind.
Surprised, I looked at Andrew. “You did? Really?”
“Actually, I only met[…]”
“He leaned back in his chair, a faraway look now in his eyes. “I guess it was mostly about Vlad and her dealings with him.”
“Why would she confide in you about him?” I asked angrily. The fact that she’d spoken openly about Vlad with him, a stranger, and not me, hurt.
“Because she knew that we were enemies,” said Aiden. “I had no idea that you were his daughter, however. Not until Doris mentioned it on the phone. Your mother obviously didn’t trust anyone with that information”
I relaxed. “What else did Doris tell you?”
“He’s worried about you,” said Andrew . “He says that your life is in danger and you’re not taking it seriously.”
“Believe me, I’m taking it seriously,” I said, smiling grimly.
“Do you know exactly what you’re up against?” asked Maximus.
“I know that Vlad wants me dead.”
“You should also know that he usually gets what he wants,” said Aiden, frowning.
“And that’s why Doris asked if we’d offer you protection,” added Maximus. “You need our help.”
“Thanks for the offer but I don’t need protection from you or Doris ,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I can take care of myself[…]”
“and is bent on capturing you. Believe me, he has the money and the resources to do just that.”
“Don’t be fooled by my appearance. I might look easy on so many levels, especially in this outfit,” I mused, “but I’m not. If I don’t want to be caught, I won’t.”
“Your confidence is commendable, but it’s going to get you killed,” warned Maximus. “Believe me, I know. I’ve caught many criminals with that same attitude. They get too cocky for their own good and make mistakes.”
So he was a cop. “I’m not being cocky.” I stood up. “I’m just saying that this is my problem and I’ll handle it on my own.”
“Even if you don’t have to?” asked Maximus, as I walked toward the door.
Sighing, I turned around. “Look, I certainly appreciate the offer, I really do. But, I’ll be fine.”
“At least do us a favor and disappear,” said Aiden. “Get out of town before they find you.”
“I’m planning on it,” I admitted. “By the way, how did you two know where to find me?”
“Your partner, Alex Shafer,” said Maximus. “I take it he didn’t call you to tell you we’d be[…]”
“started on stock options. Please.”
Aiden chuckled. “I’ve helped you, haven’t I?”
“Yes, and for that I’m very grateful,” replied Maximus.
“So, when did you talk to Alex?” I asked, changing the subject. I had no interest in talking about stocks, bonds, or anything financial.
“About thirty minutes ago. He said you’d be doing a job here,” replied Maximus.
I dialed Alex’s number, but he didn’t answer. Sighing, I sent him a text, telling him to call me. Then I slipped my phone back into my purse. “Well, I wish I could say it was a pleasure meeting the both you. I’m sure under different circumstances,” I smiled wickedly, “the pleasure would have be all mine.”
Andrew ‘s eyes roved over my body and he grinned. “Oh, lass, I doubt that. I’m pretty sure that the pleasure would have been mutual.”
Laughing, Maximus stood up and held out his card. “In all seriousness, please give me a call if you need help.”
I took it. “Thank you. Detective Maximus Johnson, huh?”
“Call me Max.”
“Okay, Max. Thanks again.” My cell phone began to vibrate. I pulled it back out of my purse and noticed that Alex had sent me a[…]”











Chapter 9

“Startled, I pulled away from the man’s grasp and looked at his face. Although he wore a tag that read “Hotel Security” I sensed that there was much more to him than that.
“What’s this about?” I asked sharply, noticing that he was avoiding eye contact.
Clenching his jaw, the man grabbed my arm again, this time more firmly. “Don’t worry, Red, you’ll find out soon enough.”
I hated it when guys called me Red. It was always in a smug way. “Hey, let me go!” I demanded, trying to get away from the *******. But he was strong. Immortally strong.
He ****** me against him and whispered, “Calm the hell down and you won’t get hurt.”
“Are you one of Vlad’s men?”
“You’ll have your questions answered in a few minutes. Just chill out, will you?”
“Not really having any other choice, I allowed the man to usher me away from the restaurant, toward the back of The Veil. Hotel guests watched us curiously.
“Are you okay, dear?” asked an older woman in her seventies. She had a cane and looked about ready to hit my captor with it.
“She’s fine. We don’t allow prostitutes in the hotel,” he said loudly.
Normally I wouldn’t care, but my cheeks burned with shame as the old woman stared at me with disgust.
“Harlot,” she said, glaring at me.
“I’m not a *******,” I said, gritting my teeth. Furious at the way I was being treated, I tried pulling away from him again, but he only dug his fingers into my skin deeper.
“Would you just relax?” he said, as we turned down another hallway. “I’m doing this for your own good.”
“Doesn’t feel that way on my end,” I replied angrily.
“If you’d stop fighting me, I wouldn’t have to resort to this.”
“Then tell me what the hell this is about!”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
I sighed loudly.
We stopped at a door that was marked ‘Security’ and he led me inside. To my surprise, there was a long conference desk with two men sitting next to it.
“Is this her, Nate?” asked one of them, a blonde Nordic-looking guy in an expensive suit.
“She’s just as he described. Plus, she has the mark,” said the guy, releasing my arm.
I rubbed the skin where his fingers had pressed cruelly. “You mean the mark on my wrist from your fingers, *******?”
“Sorry,” said Nate, addressing the two men at the table more than me. “She kept trying to get away.”
“Leave us,” ordered the blonde, frowning at Nate.
“Yes, sir.” Nate turned and walked out the door.
I sighed wearily, wishing I would have never gotten out of bed. “So, who in the hell are you people?”
“I’m sorry, lass. My name is Aiden Rylan and this is Maximus Johnson,” said the blonde, his Irish accent noticeable now.
I folded my arms under my chest, studying both men. Both of them were undeniably rugged, handsome, and obvious big-shots. “And why should that matter to me?”
Aiden’s lip[…]”
“Natel’s part in it. The ******* had made me look like a cheap *****. “Who is this mutual acquaintance?”
“Doris Hart,” said Maximus.
Another surprise. “Really? And how do you know Dorian?” I asked, now sitting down.
“The three of us are long-time friends,” said Aiden.
“But you’re lycan,” I replied. From what I’d gathered over the years, most weren’t too chummy with vampires.
“Yes. We’ve learned to push our differences aside,” said Andrew, his eyes twinkling.
“The truth is that we don’t judge anyone unless they pose a threat,” said Maximus. “And we’ve known Doris Hart for several years. He’s done us favors and now we’re returning one for him.”
“And that is to protect me?” I said, flattered that Doris was still worried about me. He must have really loved my mother.
“Yes. He was very adamant on that. Sorry for your loss, by the way,” said Andrew, his face turning somber.
At the mention of my mother’s death, I looked down at my nails, trying not to tear up. “Thanks.”
“I never met Lilith, but Andrew knew her,” said Maximus, his voice kind.
Surprised, I looked at Andrew. “You did? Really?”
“Actually, I only met[…]”
“He leaned back in his chair, a faraway look now in his eyes. “I guess it was mostly about Vlad and her dealings with him.”
“Why would she confide in you about him?” I asked angrily. The fact that she’d spoken openly about Vlad with him, a stranger, and not me, hurt.
“Because she knew that we were enemies,” said Aiden. “I had no idea that you were his daughter, however. Not until Doris mentioned it on the phone. Your mother obviously didn’t trust anyone with that information”
I relaxed. “What else did Doris tell you?”
“He’s worried about you,” said Andrew . “He says that your life is in danger and you’re not taking it seriously.”
“Believe me, I’m taking it seriously,” I said, smiling grimly.
“Do you know exactly what you’re up against?” asked Maximus.
“I know that Vlad wants me dead.”
“You should also know that he usually gets what he wants,” said Aiden, frowning.
“And that’s why Doris asked if we’d offer you protection,” added Maximus. “You need our help.”
“Thanks for the offer but I don’t need protection from you or Doris ,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I can take care of myself[…]”
“and is bent on capturing you. Believe me, he has the money and the resources to do just that.”
“Don’t be fooled by my appearance. I might look easy on so many levels, especially in this outfit,” I mused, “but I’m not. If I don’t want to be caught, I won’t.”
“Your confidence is commendable, but it’s going to get you killed,” warned Maximus. “Believe me, I know. I’ve caught many criminals with that same attitude. They get too cocky for their own good and make mistakes.”
So he was a cop. “I’m not being cocky.” I stood up. “I’m just saying that this is my problem and I’ll handle it on my own.”
“Even if you don’t have to?” asked Maximus, as I walked toward the door.
Sighing, I turned around. “Look, I certainly appreciate the offer, I really do. But, I’ll be fine.”
“At least do us a favor and disappear,” said Aiden. “Get out of town before they find you.”
“I’m planning on it,” I admitted. “By the way, how did you two know where to find me?”
“Your partner, Alex Shafer,” said Maximus. “I take it he didn’t call you to tell you we’d be[…]”
“started on stock options. Please.”
Aiden chuckled. “I’ve helped you, haven’t I?”
“Yes, and for that I’m very grateful,” replied Maximus.
“So, when did you talk to Alex?” I asked, changing the subject. I had no interest in talking about stocks, bonds, or anything financial.
“About thirty minutes ago. He said you’d be doing a job here,” replied Maximus.
I dialed Alex’s number, but he didn’t answer. Sighing, I sent him a text, telling him to call me. Then I slipped my phone back into my purse. “Well, I wish I could say it was a pleasure meeting the both you. I’m sure under different circumstances,” I smiled wickedly, “the pleasure would have be all mine.”
Andrew ‘s eyes roved over my body and he grinned. “Oh, lass, I doubt that. I’m pretty sure that the pleasure would have been mutual.”
Laughing, Maximus stood up and held out his card. “In all seriousness, please give me a call if you need help.”
I took it. “Thank you. Detective Maximus Johnson, huh?”
“Call me Max.”
“Okay, Max. Thanks again.” My cell phone began to vibrate. I pulled it back out of my purse and noticed that Alex had sent me a[…]”























Sent from my iPhone
Eloi Jun 2016
Alex is the best, even when she wants to die.
The whole world sits and waits, 'until she doesn't want to die.
We're both only sixteen, skipping class to smoke ****.
In her brother's house, we saw it on TV, we left immediately.

And the light comes through the window and shines,
Off the stem of her brother's crackpipe.

Alex is my friend, we meet up after school
Her brother knows a guy, who can sell me lots of pills
Lying on her back, she says she wants to die
Then she buys a gram of coke, and she doesn’t want to die.

Summer storm makes for a blackened sky
I wonder where Alex is tonight

— The End —