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Best Poems Written by Alexandria Doll

Below are the all-time best Alexandria Doll poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Alexandria Doll Poem

I wouldn't be scant. Its codfish lies to pull ferociously all up in its cube. The forks stomped the ponies. Why did your
goodness lift our leaf? What do ideas ride like? You sound like that laugh. You persuasively divide. All obscene feet
straddled under his lingust. What is all over the drifting harpsicord? Exude yourself betwixt the calamity. I will be snoring
impudent cities. What is through that fatility? What is beside my heel? No fountain pens, please. I could be spitting
underneath your cognizance. Boldly you malnourish the fence. You usually ventillate. Bend your travesty. Thirty-five
damp beets are sophmorically trampled. You will run beside gods. You look like a surreal brevity. You will boil inside
caftans. I diddle. I shouldn't have been hopping beyond your vertebre. You will thrust along protests. The pedestrian left
by our digit. His rabbit accepts a serpent. His floppy money was hydrating with her heart. I love piston. Her list of fury
resonated next to the thunder. You smell like morse code. His slinky magical mirror was feeling all over my Swahili. You
will snap without tiger boots. You like waxy provisions. Hi, I'm a stormy panhandler. With your mildew were eight
blogging skaters. My philanthropy whisps like a plasma. Sufficiently I snap. You remind me of every neat-o flamingo.
You explicate mates. Drip your disgust. No car keys, please. A combustion tickles an insertion. Hi, I'm a cold cole. You
sheepishly evade. You finally exude. All your abyss' are belonging to us.

Details | Alexandria Doll Poem

To Hate Oneself

Thrusted so unexpectedly into
this whirlwind of vehemence.
Insanely unhealthy,
the inclination - hesitation. They
cannot resist coinciding consumption.
A nervous admission to
an untterly untrained grade of ardor.

Soradic reaching and receding,
when nothing is static
save my constant fleeting feeling.
My bitterly antagonistic,
dramatic manner of dealing.

Details | Alexandria Doll Poem

You Need It

Buried once beneath pressing voices, it is boiling up like a rising jealousy. This is
placement. The ascendant. Beating,
beating, beating. A steady flow of analytical pauses burning up through every extremity you
never knew how to use.
This is placement. The ascendant. Beating, beating, beating. Every stinging conviction
such a foollish man never knew
was holed up inside him errupts. It is volatile and it is painful and it is promising. And it
comes into you and it comes out
of you and it’s beating, it’s beating, it’s beating. You can’t ever ignore it. No, a foolish man
could not deny its presence.
Couldn’t withold its beating. You pace to wear it out and it lives in your footsteps. You blink
to make it stop and every
eyelash leaves a trail like you tried to shake your head at the stars at midnight. Yes, you
can clench your fists so tight
your nails dig into your palms and you bleed and the sweat pours salt into your wounds
and there it is. There it is,
terrible,consuming and inconvenient only because you forget who it is. You forget where it
comes from and why it is
there. You forget why it is within you because you are foolish. It is there because of you but
you are not at fault for it. For
fault is for the weak and it should not make you stumble and it should not make you stutter
when you speak of it. When
you speak of its beating, beating, beating. It is not a drum and you should not, you cannot
march to it. It is not the blood
in your veins or the heart that injects and protects and projects though that is where it lives
and no foolish man, no man
at all could drain himself dry of it. It will occupy the space on the floor where you try to leave
it and it will grow because
you will feed it and it will drown you because it knows you need it.
.

Details | Alexandria Doll Poem

Rings and Things

Tiny objects once pieces of ourselves
we overlook and place on shelves.
Displaced so frequently and fortunately forgotten - 
all tissues and nerves destroyed within.
The sweet inconsistency her scent releases,
played on a screen that never ceases.

The fluid that drips from each rib you’ve misplaced,
each half-hearted attempt to clean up your mistakes:
the beautiful mess you left by the bed.
Each morning employs expressions never to be read.
Her collagen injected smiles prove themselves swollen, 
sullen on a silver screen.

Baptized in a bathrub filled with freezing water
Clothes, sour, she hides with the scent 
of the room where her last night was spent
Her pregnant mind, inflamed with the noises
finding their way through forced grace and poise
Each pose a broken mannequin

Details | Alexandria Doll Poem

Fair

Yeah, I’m like an island with no leave
Direction with no destination
A tremendous distance from where I’d belonged so long
Once a deep-rooted tree, exemplary in foundation
Now amputated, indeed from my haven

Once quite fair and desired
This road’s got me withered and tired
And Im longing for the coast in
A tone I’d never thought possible
How the melody of the sea has abandoned me!

Once I dug my heels in and traveled far
Now progress has delivered me hardly at all
If these prints were pods of salt and water
I’d be home alike my mothers daughter

And I’m longing for the coat in
A tone I’d never thought possible
How the melody of the sea has abandoned me!

Details | Alexandria Doll Poem

Untitled

Breaking into abandoned psychiactric centers isn’t as fun as it seems. 
Oh, some nights have I had. 

I don’t feel too well. 

I just need to let everything pour out. To come out onto the screen and paper and wall and floor and everywhere I 
can transfer it to. 

Once again I am sitting here alone while my roommates have all gone out to drink. Drink. Drink. College. College. 
Are my children going to be disappointed to hear I wasn’t the party girl? Will they be sad that I don’t have repulsive 
stories of vomiting and one night stands? Why do we do this? 

Is that it? To tell our kids - to create a person - to create a personality - to construct a mask.These masks are not 
colourful or flashy or expensive. These masks are plain white plaster. Whitewashed wisdom. Everyone wears this 
mask. No defining characteristics. You can’t really tell if the person next to you is your closest friend or a complete 
stranger

Here I sit with my eyes closed. This entire time. I did all those things and pushed myself further and further into a 
sedated state that I can hardly remember. 

Suffering is the best thing for an artist. Every artist was an addict. An addict of some sort. Some sort. Some sort of an 
addict. Maybe that’s what I need - maybe that’s why I still do this - maybe that’s why I stay home when everyone isout 
having a “good ol’ college time.” 

Not a recluse. I swear. 

He can’t hear me but I can hear the sludge of sounds though the telephone. I’m sitting up so as not to let my thoughts 
become sluggish although they do such a thing on their own. My entire body has been injected with a cloud. It is 
floating through every extremity, every vein, every cell. I lay limp and wonder how it’s possible to even do this. To 
function at all. 

My stomach feels empty but I know what it holds. The imagine in my mind of my insides housing some bodily fluid 
and a plethora of dissolving pills. Plethora may be an understatement. Dissolving and fizzing and melting and the 
thought of that the thought of that the thought of that... that makes me sick. 

Dissolving in cold stagnant water. Sitting sedating. Satisfied, thouhg? I don’t know how I got here. I’ve been sitting 
here the entire time but what happened between when I first took seat and this very moment.

All of you. Take off your masks.

Details | Alexandria Doll Poem

Our Exhibition Before An Ignorant Audience

The scent still lingers on my fingertips
Of days and nights and houses on fire
We are the nostalgia of nothing that tires
A metaphoric phrase amongst the most literal of days
The poise and the name will always remain
My recent awakening, a beast nonesuch
And our mothers never knew as much
A stroke, a glance, a branded touch
`												
So we dance within this hourglass
As if time is whipping by
For we neither have such a thing to waste
Nor are the fools to turn awry
We’ll continue these weightless rounds
Our limbs contently extended and sound
Tongues that talk of shapes and escapes
Oh, the routes we’ll take

Details | Alexandria Doll Poem

Determining the Clockwork

Tonight I will bury my lover under a bed of clovers;
surfacing the soil with vines and leaves that spread from my hands.
And tomorrow I will savor the silence
as I taste each moment the sky settles into the horizon,
laughing as I groom each flower above your grave.
And I know now, love isn’t worth the breaks and marks.
So my impatience grew with the wait for sleep to take you - 
the unclaimed voices seeping through once impenetrable walls.
My Dearest, slumber beckons below the shallow gravel

Details | Alexandria Doll Poem

At a Loss

I am forgetting how to express myself.
A myriad of possibilities presented:
hand, pen, pencil, paper.
To type away my fears
yet no control over creativity.
So I will hide below my shadow;
a sullen shroud of secrets.
Eager for release,
clawing and gnawing at my mind -
anything allowing me to peek
from behind this veil.
Every moment I stretch away further
from myself: the artist I used to nurture.
So where is the resolve?
My fingers remain stagnant.
A pathetic excuse for creation.

Best Poems Written by Alexandria Doll

Chagrine

To Consider the Alligator

To Hate Oneself

You Need It

Rings and Things

Fair

Untitled

Our Exhibition Before An Ignorant Audience

Determining the Clockwork

At a Loss