where is Alex
Where is Alex?
He was a famous snooker player, who squandered his fortune
and talent. They all loved him to bits, they said, at his funeral.
His daughter read a poem. Drugs and alcohol had reduced him
to beg, in pubs, challenge amateur players for a game, getting
enough money for more booze and cigarettes.
A free soul, or a man ruled by his vices? A happy go lucky chap
who did as he pleased? Not a man beset by his failures, alone
on the darkest night? Five hundred mourners, florists made
a killing. He had lain death for a week in his flat, and no one
had bothered to ask: “Where is Alex?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Related quotes
A Disappointing Year
(a la Alex Jones!)
Everything is a lie and a cheat
And a steal.
America is (no more) honorable.
Proud to be an American? My xss!
Come off it! Where it's at is profitable.
Money, money, money, money. Crass!
All relationships are now a deal!
Money, money, money, money,
Alcohol or grass!
Demoralizing is what we see as real.
As Americans we're starting to see to fight
What must be fought to return to our birthright.
poem by Warner Treuter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Jeffrey McDaniel Show
I walk into a candlelit room.
All the women I've ever dated
are passing around the love poems
I gave them, and guess what?
It's the same poem — My sweet
[Put Your Name Here] if I was God
I'd make flowers smell like the back
of your neck, trees with trunks
as soft as your thighs. When we kiss
I feel like a cheerleader being crushed
to death by a giant pom-pom. Then Alex
Trebec appears. A game of Ex-
Girlfriend Jeopardy ensues.
All the categories about me.
'I'll take emotional baggage, Alex,
for twenty.' 'Jeffrey's mother
spanked him with this blunt object
so hard, he couldn't look in a mirror
for a week.' 'What's a wire hairbrush? '
'Correct, you control the board.'
'Bedroom Arrogance, for thirty.'
'The most narcissistic thing Jeffrey
has ever said while making love.'
'What is...? ' If you hold me real tight,
you can feel the centrifugal force
of the world revolving around me.
poem by Jeffrey McDaniel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Emotional Affair
Emotional Affair
by Alex Lewis
I fell in love with Happy tonight,
But I've done what's furthest from the right:
I've had an affair with Sad.
I know that Happy will go mad.
After all I've done
by 3, by 2, by 1
Happy will be as sad as thrice,
Which means we'll have sadness twice.
All that's happy will be gone,
And it's all my fault for doing wrong.
poem by Alex Lewis
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Week In Week Out
IIs there something more?
Surely there must be
You can't lose everything
So you're quite happy
To live with nothing more
Than a life-long shopping list
You tick off on credit
Well you'll pay for it
Week in and week out
Your lucky charms will always let you down
Maybe next week, we'll see
Maybe
You stand in life completely still
Feel really truly unfulfilled
Week in week out
Where are you going to turn?
When all ambition fails?
Why try any more
If human nature's stale?
Invite the hand of God
To touch the lucky few
There's no such thing as God
Nor easy money too?
Week in and week out
These lucky charms will always let you down
Maybe next week, we'll see
Maybe
You stand in life completely still
Feel really truly unfulfilled
Week in week out
Week in and week out
Your lucky charms will always let you down
Maybe next week, we'll see
Maybe
You stand in life completely still
Feel really truly unfulfilled
Week in week out
song performed by by Ordinary Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do Not Read! ! !
Don't read this poem!
Turn back while you have the chance
Or you will regret it
This poem is a poem of darkness
This poem is a devourer of souls
It will destroy you
Consume you
Absorb you into its black depths
I tried to warn you
I told you not to read it
Why are you still reading?
If I had named it 'READ THIS POEM! ! ! '
Would you have even bothered?
This poem is pulling you in
It has your feet
It's eating you
It's shattering your soul
It's never going to let you go
It's murdering you
This poem is a murderer
It is a criminal, it is evil
It is unnameable, unbreakable, imperfect
This poem has you
It's too late for you now
There's no escape for you now
Too bad
This poem has you
This poem's devoured you
Yummm, good
This poem is satisfied now
You should have listened to me
But you didn't
And now the poem's taken you
You're dead.
Father(less) Day
Father(less) Day
by Alex Lewis
Today is Father's Day-
So joyous and so gay!
Unless you're me,
Very sadly.
For me, it's Father(less) Day.
He died three nights ago, I say.
Don't pity me, give me none!
If it were up to me, his death would not be done.
If you commit suicide, there's a lonely funeral.
No one will pity you for wearing red before the bull.
He killed himself; I don't notice he's alive.
Such selfishness and stupidity would get none to revive.
So, today
I will say
It's Father(less) Day
For me and for me (alone) .
Do not cry! Do not groan!
This day is today (whatever may be(!))
It's Father(less) Day (for me) .
poem by Alex Lewis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Interpretation of a story
Day in day out
in repetition
the life's game
we are caught.
Surrounded by walls
the only thing
to cling
is Love.
Here and then
a wake up call
new born or death
comes on the way..
A daughter dies
'Will I see you again? '
asks her mother
But she cannot be heard.
All that a mother
thinks about
is how to keep
The daughter's life.
So hard she tries,
fights everything
the wind, and many gods,
But all in vain, she failed..
At last she has to let
sweet soul to go away
Yet first she eats tiny bits
of memories.
Only to keep
the child's gifts
SWEET LOVE..
Daughter leaves but love
Forever to remain.
Then life could,
can, shall
Start again
Another happiness..
A happy child
And a happier mother.
Day in day out
in repetition,
life's game
we are caught...
Good luck to all my dear C.D. friends, a week from now we shall joy playing it at Concarino.Doki doki(*_*)
poem by Elena Sandu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bares Thru Us?
BARES THRU US?
by Alex Lewis
i'm taking out the TRASh (of society) :
the only way to set all the others free.
i will dispose of all of it:
those healthy in mind and body-fit.
in this, RUbbish, you won't find the needy,
only the selfish and the greedy.
i have no garbagE-collecting mechanism
to pick up all of the racism
i'll put them in the traSH bag next to the ignoramus.
i'm talking, of course, about the rich and famous.
at the request of the children,
i'll be rid of each republican.
finally, i can take the garBage out
before the scum see what's about.
now, everyone else will be at peace,
especially the lazy and the police.
i have only one word of warning for you all:
once again, the rUbbish bag will get full. ?
poem by Alex Lewis
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An Ode to the Heart of Man
An Ode to the Heart of Man
by Alex Lewis
An ode to the heart of man:
Man has lost the goodness in his soul.
It means nothing: yes we can.
The earth does cringe as overflows the badness in the bowl.
We had helped others before,
But now we greed and care for none other than our own.
Oh, man! You are whom I had adore.
Evil corrupts the good heart of man. I have been shown.
Help your brother and your brother will help thee,
But you ignore me. Help yourself and you'll help nobody.
An ode to the heart of man that's been destroyed by we,
The ones who have abandoned peace and hope. Help me to help thee.
I plead for you, but you have cut out my heart!
For what? What do you show for your murder?
Nothing! Man is SO evil. You can see it sans chart!
Yet, we create false hope and false light.
The day of GOOD WILL HATH SUNK into night.
I pity you. You haven't even made a fight.
You have all accepted the killing of man.
An ode to his heart that ended once it began.
poem by Alex Lewis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ace of Hearts
Ace of Hearts
I ain’t goin’ nowhere
And that frickin’ raven
Ain’t gonna make me write
No Poe poem
Nor this goddam bridge
Ain’t goin’ nowhere either
Not even straddling
Sarah Palin’s arse to Russia
~~~
Alex Nodopaka ©2008
AD Something
poem by Alex Nodopaka
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Don't Forget to Write Your Funeral Plan
Michael Jackson's 'SMILE' played, as the coffin entered everyone stood tall
Mum's poem was read and felt by all
The Mourners were smiling at the photo's of Mum
As the DVD played, no one was glum
Happy pictures were played of Mum's life with a tear
To the tune of the music 'If I Lay Here'
Friends got up for the Eulogy
Wonderful Words spoken of Mum... Now free
Free to move on, to follow a new life
Happy if Dad, finds a new wife
Everyone looked like they were enjoying the moment
In a room full of love; as if Heaven sent
For Mum was so kind and by all adored
Yet sadly the Funeral Conductor looked everso bored
He looked like he had something better to do
This was just a job and he really didn't care just who...
Who had died Or who was grieving
About the life of this person or the world they were leaving
So... Make sure you write.. Your Funeral Plan
It saves pain for the family, A real helping hand
You can choose your Funeral Home, coffin, Cemetery and your music too
It will take away some pain Of losing you
Black or Gay
Black or Gay
by Alex Lewis
america is for everyone.
Free to be is what is done.
Unless, you're Black or you're Gay,
Then america hates you each night and day.
Never to change is what I fear.
More than hate: (more than cheer :)
poem by Alex Lewis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Subject Of Death
The subject of death
or standing at night with a lit candle
under my chin in front of a mirror
prevents my humor
from spilling.
The stanza is romantic.
Makes me queasy.
And it's unfair to play
with silver dimes
when the dead
can see no more
nor have the will
to lift their lids.
Had they the capability
to wink & smoke a lid
I'm certain muteness
would reflect their voice
and their hallucinations
would be Dostoievski's.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka May©2012
poem by Alex Nodopaka
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let Us Learn How To Play!
Life is a game,
Full of anxiety,
Full of excitement,
Who is the player?
I, you and we are players
if we are all players,
for what we play?
For what we have to play?
For money or name,
Or to gain some toys
to feel only more pain?
We take nothing at the end,
trophies and medals,
will not have meaning,
why we run here and there,
Jump and hop,
laugh and weep, Why we strive to win?
We never know causes,
Whose effect is this life?
We don't know our cause here,
And we talk of causes!
What cause may take us where?
Useless to think, just play your game!
Find the player
who play and enjoy all alone,
Creating own ground and arena,
He plays and enjoys the game,
so many things bring us shame,
Our own thoughts and deeds,
Who is enemy of us greater than these?
Let him play his game,
Pray him for rest,
sit and meditate at his feet,
Or get the yellow card for wrong play!
Anyway find a way to sit aside,
Let others play,
let us rest a while,
Watch and learn how to play!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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0021 Football's new rules
I guess you read the news
about the town – soon to be copied –
which abolished traffic lights...
what happened? Self-preservation,
care, and courtesy have won the day..
while the soccer news this weekend was
that everybody blames the referee..
who’s after all, just the traffic-lights to this game..
suppose we tried the same daring system on the soccer field..
any player who makes a bad tackle
or an inadvertent trip (deliberate ones
would disappear as a mark of shame)
to apologise politely and offer
a free kick to the other side..
the player who kicks the ball into touch
immediately hands the ball to the other side
or at the very least, runs away – both sides
always knowing very well who touched it last..
shirt-pulling and diving would be
such matters of shame that the player’s
own side would stop playing and remain
rooted to the spot until
the culprit offered a free kick..
and any really doubtful events would be referred
to the television cameras for a quick decision;
and all the players might just feel the urge
to applaud and clap a tricky moment fairly resolved?
and at the end of the match,
the players would line up and just like
an international does at the beginning,
shake hands down the line…
while the managers would meet symbolically at centre-pitch,
shake hands publicly on a game cleanly fought,
and even – full on camera – look each other
in the eye..
and we the supporters would feel damn proud
that sport was sport once again, that
football was and is the life-blood of the nation,
and if not more important than life and death
at least a happy occasion of skills enjoyed..
and that, win or lose, chivalry and
the game’s the thing..
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Funeral Flowers never Fade
I’d rather remember
the colorful blossoms
surrounding the departed.
I’d rather remember
their character and their scent
not some waxen faces
straight out of the mold.
I’d rather remember the roses
and the reds and the yellows
and the whites and the pinks.
I’d rather forget the thorns
and the pricks and the angst
and the contradictions
between existence and extinction.
I’d rather forget
the pallidness of life
and never watch
funeral flowers fade.
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Sep©2009
AD Something
poem by Alex Nodopaka
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One of my contemporaries, a colorless chap who worked much harder at his law studies, is now Prime Minister.
Football Farce
Football managers and players should hang their heads in shame,
For what they've done to our traditional football game.
Now sportsmen in the game are a dying breed,
with managers and players getting rich with greed.
Sportsmen! They are not, for they will cheat and connive,
winning free kicks and penalties by taking a dive.
Pushing, pulling and shirts being torn,
Punching and swearing are now the norm.
After a night on drugs and all night boozing,
players get violent if their team is loosing.
The managers aren't any better when staring at defeat,
encouraging players to go out there and cheat.
If the players do wrong and it's plain to see,
the managers will argue and blame the referee.
And now referees are getting in on this shameful act,
with the top premier clubs they've now formed a pact.
If the top club is loosing, then with the last kick of the ball,
the referee gives them a penalty for no good reason at all.
If that doesn't help they commit another dreadful crime,
by giving them another chance by adding on extra time.
The F.A. watches these games and don't seem to mind,
What's up with them? are they totally blind?
The F.A. should now hang their heads in shame,
for they have let money and greed ruin our football game.
That's why I have finally decided to call it a day,
Football ain't getting anymore of my hard earnt pay.
By
Alan Weston
© Copyright Reserved 2007
poem by Alan Weston
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This Is What You Wanted
Death is hard to understand,
Cause you have to be,
Dead to understand it.
Just like my uncle,
I am dead.
I'm with him now.
I can finally breath,
I can finally run,
I am finally free.
You should be,
Happy too,
Cause you don't have me.
Just like you wished for,
I'm dead,
And gone forever.
You don't even cry,
Or come to my,
Funeral.
You don't look happy,
You look bad,
You look sad.
You've got another girl,
All the money in the wordl,
And too many cars.
You said you loved me,
But you always hurt me,
And never said sorry.
I'm happy,
You aren't,
But you should be happy,
ANd I should be sad.
Cause this is what,
You always wanted...
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
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Some(no) Bodies
some(no) bodies
by Alex Lewis
Alone and Together met one day.
Alone made some friends, if you may.
Alone) is together(is together.
Alone's new friends are some Hims and Hers.
Alone and Together separated one day.
Together was alone, by the bay.
Alone) is together(is alone
The same difference is shown.
poem by Alex Lewis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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