Best Alter Poems
Never satisfied
she passes through the night
of my dreams
demanding expression
seething
pacing
chasing
In my every lucid thought
she speaks....
I feel her presence, and I tremble
I try in vain
to keep her tame
docile
confined
within the parameters
of my world....
defined!
Oh, but she will not obey
Must have her way
her say...
she lurks
she breathes
she waits
prowling
growling...
ever ready
to pounce
and seize me unaware
she is always
always there....
Not a moment escapes
when I don't feel her near
she reveals herself...
in the words I say
in the way I sway
in the way I play
night to day
she's there
having her way
with her helpless prey
to win?
There's no way...
Elektra
is her name
domination is her game
she knows no shame
Untame...
She stakes her claim
She lives
I feel her moist breath on my cheek
I feel her hands make my weak
Her whisper in my ear...
I hear...
oh...so... clear...
"I'm Here....
waiting
waiting
waiting...
for full control
Not a part
but the whole...
I demand your soul...
SET ME FREE!"
“Teach me to pray,” I ask the Father.
He lovingly said, “Kneel down at my sacred alter”.
Looking around I could not see; where could this sacred alter be?
Then gently he instructed me his sacred alter was my knee.
In that moment it became the Holy of Holies.
Kneeling in humble prayer he assured me he would meet me there.
How sweetly he whispered, “Here you can always find me.
Here I will ever wait for thee, ever listening to hear your hearts plea.
It was with tear filled eyes that I finally understood that God’s alter is not made of
Stone nor wood, but of a humble spirit and heart of love
For Brian Strand's contest
Any 2011 poem
The little girl who begs for mercy is away,
her angry alter-ego took her place.
The little girl might possibly come back someday,
But now her eyes gleam red on her fair face.
All the wicked things she said and did,
It was not her but that evil thing.
Maybe the little girl just hid,
Afraid of all the alter-ego may bring.
She is evil, can't you understand?
The sadness, the anger and hatred she gives,
Is it possible to withstand?
But maybe inside that evil thing, the little girl who begs for mercy lives.
I feel the devil calling me,
a voice I choose not to hear
He's called before
when I was young
But even then I refused to listen
Growing up with an innate sense of right
and wrong
The path to righteousness was easy to find
but laden with snares and pitfalls
I've been caught in my share (more than) --
In the woods behind my house
about a mile hike
stands an old wooden church,
abandoned and fallen to ruin
I've stood on the weathered floor
and stared up at the vaulted ceiling
The only sound I heard
was the sound the wind makes
when it blows through an empty tunnel
When I was a child
I heard the Voice of God
Now I search for it
in the decaying wood
and broken altar
There sits on my shoulder is a small man
Looking like he’s my real alter ego
Surely seeming not to ever let go
Telling me of things to do, what I can
Sometimes he tells me to run, then I ran
I have little to hold, little to show
With him I can’t do what I surely know
He keeps me from joy, and with life he bans
Little fearful being which he creates
Making me do things I don’t want to do
Never does he go and alleviate
He posts deep hatred into what is new
Painful pieces of life he wallows in
I wish he was gone, and would take a spin
Russell Sivey
I remember now the promise,
it must have been in the womb,
for darkness was warm and sound was fluid,
the only time that two heartbeats were in my body,
an offering from God to me for us,
words as a silhouette skylining the architecture of our soul,
God made only one promise to me, as a lover only capable of total trust once,
that if I passionately worship God, then God will worship me,
God lights the wick , I burn the wax, we illuminate the facts,
such as soul is sight and hatred plight,
conviction of talent with no restriction,
a tenent for the tenacious to tender doubt with toughness,
my watery world collapsed, I was in dock
ready for the sport of Life, Mass of the magnificent misfits,
we agreed to focus not on the opposites of energies
but rather on the reflections thereof,
placing conflicts in a coffin of cotton cries
consumed in confligration purple in prediction of panacea,
worry not of the damned, as Fate is not preplanned -
J.A.B.
—He was nothing but a pretender—
I thought he was my friend
because he followed me everywhere I went,
because he hugged me in his tender bosom
and comforted me every time I felt sad and lonely.
When depressed and not knowing what to do
he tapped my shoulder to lift me up my spirits.
When confused in the maze looking for a way-out,
he came and held my hand and got me out of this maze.
One day,
I walked away from him
because I wanted to have total freedom.
When I found myself, however, standing in the middle of nowhere trembling
from the roar of wild beasts, I saw him standing before me open armed.
When I lost my strength and fell to the ground from the days of trials,
he carried me on his back to get through life’s miseries. In the dark and chilling nights he lit a candle to convince me that, no matter how dark and cold, there would always be a light and fire as long as I asked for it.
After so many of life’s vicissitudes and an undesirably long journey
I saw the end of a tunnel that was bright and full, I, therefore,
knelt to thank my friend who made me come to this far.
Alas, my trusted friend, stabbed my back with a dagger
in this joyous moment, he was the Alter Ego, my life’s companion.
She wouldn't want to bore ya,
but there's something about Nora.
Things physical, not audi
fly away from her body,
Fail to nail the counter,
hit the deck all around her--
A zillion spills to mop up:
coffee grinds, egg shells, & catsup.
"Magnificent Uncoordinated
Movements," an old boyfriend said,
In and out of bed. Still, There
Was Something About Nora.
i waited for you at the alter but you never came,
in front of my friends and family im embarrassed and ashame,
the pastor closed his holy book,
took my hand and shook,
i turned to the crowd and apologized,
and as i apologized i realized,
the dream i fantasized of having you had just bin pulverized,
i wanted to hold my tears in but mom always says" real men cries",
everyone gave me a hug and left but i still didnt feel right,
i picked up the bouquet and ripped up the flowers,
clouds appear in the sky and as always it showers,
im getting wet but i dont feel the rain because of my pain,
my white suit has a mud stain,
im highly upset but my composure i still maintain,
i wish my mine had a hard drive so i could delete the memory of today off my brain,
i went home and put on my favourite sweeter,
got a pen and paper and began to write a letter,
i wanted to use vulgar language but that would just upset her,
then i stopped and asked myself,
should i give up on love and put my heart back on the shelf,
if love is patient and kind,
why isnt it nice to me and wont be mine,
i went in my room and layed down,
prayed with a frown,
thought about how she had cut so deep,
until i eventually feel asleep..............................
I would like to tell you a story
but i dont know where to begin.
Ive got my self an alter ego
its actually like having a twin.
my name is judy
and her name is finn.
i like drinking vodka
and she likes drinking gin
when we go out together
the boys have a choice.
its a shame we share the body,
and we share the same voice.
i try to use my body
in the best way that i can
because my voice is very husky
and i sound like a man.
ok, you've got me
my name isnt judy, its paul.
i have a very small *****
and only 1 ball
we are actually one person
with bad mental health
thats why i am a little bit loopy
and talk to myself.
With pale skin and eyes of green,
From two perspectives, he can be seen.
Hood of black and cape that is fine,
through hearts and souls of evil, he dives.
With arrows of justice and truth he fling,
Cutting through air, the arrows will sing.
From one side he fears and love those who save,
from another he loathes and despises them the same.
Living two lives, one truth and one lie,
which one will stay and which one will die?
Only one life can commit and thrive,
the other must vanish and one must survive.
To look back at darkness and forward at light,
A raven, an owl and a hawk, he'd fight.
But which shall he pick, which fate will he choose?
Hero or zero, what life will he lose?
I've just re-read my poem
of a pessimism groan
and re-Mark ed to my self inside
"hey man, where's yr pride?"
"Yo, Why you giving up?
before You drink the cup?
You know you'll never find
Her again - so grind
Yr teeth with gnash and resilience
and go for broke with brilliance,
cause if you let Her go
You may not ever know
Why She intrigues You very so
or why the Moon doth glow,
or why You tingle at her teeth
and what might be lying beneath
those Eyes that give You chills
and that heart She nearly kills
and slays with just One look
(like tiny tremors shook)
So, Hey Man, just see what happens next
before getting too complex
Cause I think she digs you too
That Girl, Kinshala Blue..."
Sometimes even in these chaotic times we can sill get a little old fashioned, find a brute of a tree and relax under its shade.We can then mentally attempt to travel beyond that day in an attempt to step inot another life creating within ourselves a separate reality.A reality we can run and hide in when things in the real world go sour.What if you where to get stuck in this world or let me reprase myself, what if you ran into your little cubbyhole in your mind and the door slammed shut behind you.What if the reason you ran into this world was so severe that you were the one who slammed the door.If you were to get locked in this world what would you really find there?Maybe your worst nightmares would become as real and vivid as you imagined them to be. How would your actions change physically?Would you become a reclive person or possibly become violent?There are very few things in which we call artificial that are proven to be totally posittive, so in saying this how could a artificial reality ever be a positive attribute within oneself?Those of us who are capable of opening and closing this door at will are fortunate.Those who have become trapped inside have created a battle within themselves that will truly rage on until they grab the keys that have been dangling in front of them throughout their ordeal.We all hold our own keys on a ring that is overloaded making access to the correct key difficult to some and impossible to others.
I've had an 'out of body' experience
So you can't blame me for what I did
My alter ego Oscar perpetrated the crime
To do such a thing I'm too timid
I'm totally innocent of this heinous act
Must have been devoid of all morals
Listen I still do have a few of them left
With that you surely can't quarrel
This heinous act of stealing a kiss
Had crossed my mind a few times
But being the timid soul that I am
Never thought of crossing that line
So I plead 'not guilty' to any wrong doing
It was Oscar my mischievous friend
Who tends to run amok every once in a while
And I'm always having to defend
© Jack Ellison 2014
I was a child, peering down,
down into my soul’s abyss,
a sterile kingdom by the Dead Sea.
She was also a child, my loveless alter ego
a glass jar not even half full.
Our love was too vacuous to harbor affection or hope.
My alter ego, Lissa Marie.
She was a child, peering upward, upward,
delving more deeply into my spirit’s stunted reach.
The proverbial babe in the woods was she,
harboring the dour rude awakenings
of the great prophets and sages.
She stirred in me all that is sacred,
and inspired and true.
Yet her flame diminished
into smoldering embers—no Phoenix rising.
She departed as she entered, a demure lady.
She came to me as lady light,
departed as lady death.
I shall retain my love for her, my
alter ego, 'til my last breath
Our souls entwined
Yet the angels show their jealously
So divine was she, coequal.
Her essence upon me,
love worn weary,
I’ve become one
with Lissa Marie.