Details |
Alexander Stigleman Poem
Room observations, i got a desk with books on it.
Random paint blotches that look like comets.
Picture frames and accolades.
Diploma and Phone case.
Lava lamp from my brother for my birthday.
I swear to God i've used it once, worth it aye?
Lamp not plugged in,
Got a dog half sleeping.
Words on my wall sketched on paper.
Hair on the floor because I decided to get creative with my razor.
Mangoritas stacked 3 high, no chaser.
Fan tilted my way with the gear on 3.
I got 3 letters to write, but i can never do it because of this A.D.D
Copyright © Alexander Stigleman | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Alexander Stigleman Poem
Ronda Rousey just beat me up.
Beat me down would be more appropriate.
She choked me with her left arm over my neck
prolonging a breath to reach my lungs for a refresh.
I went for the elbow to the head, but she kicked out my legs
and I fell, metaphorically of course, on my death bed.
She wasn't done yet,
she had more to prove and less to expect.
I'll never again comment on a women's...
ability.
Copyright © Alexander Stigleman | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Alexander Stigleman Poem
There's someone I need to write to…someone i take for granted.
Someone who knows who they are and some others can't stand it.
I mailed a few letter yet she hasn't replied back.
I think its been too long since I wrote with some love attached.
My last one i backtracked was so bad it lacked the simplicity of my feelings and made stability seem cracked.
The essence was gone and she was feeling low.
My pen started to dry and the paper stayed blank, saying, "no"
The mailman even looked at me in a peculiar way.
You're the writer yet you have no letters today?
I haven't had the time was my reply and he half smiled.
Not everyone has time but we still walk the same miles.
I pondered his vagueness and picked up on the metaphor.
I saw you in the clearing light that was dropping like a garage door.
My heart poured into the nearest pad and I wrote down all that i should have said.
You would hear what your ears deserved what your body needed.
You would get the letters, the i love you's i repeated.
You told me to slow down, what was this all about.
I told you, what i was giving wasn't enough, for the sun still shines, even hid behind the clouds.
Copyright © Alexander Stigleman | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Alexander Stigleman Poem
I saw my brother today,
He was a friend at second glance.
He saw me and looked sure of himself,
I took a step back and fell for the trick.
He was me and I was him surprised by the appearance of it.
Hidden in the "what's up?" and "nothing" was maturity.
No more of the old me is what he told me there in the kitchen.
We threw out childhood but was it good? or good riddance?
Copyright © Alexander Stigleman | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Alexander Stigleman Poem
I have glass shards stuck in my feet.
Every time I tried to reflect i threw the mirror down beneath.
It struck the floor and bounced into a jagged piece.
Penetrating fleece leaving me to bleed.
Ever so lightly it came, soaking through to show,
Redness and embarrassment, the story clearly shown.
That i was afraid of what I had become.
A monster in my own eyes that I had tried to shun.
But he stays with me and makes himself known.
A guest who won't believe that this isn't his home.
The bleeding ceases after I have pulled out the fragments.
Laughing silently to think I had succumbed to such madness.
I sweep up the pile and see nothing of what I had earlier imagined.
I open the trash can to finally lay rest to the past I've held captive.
Copyright © Alexander Stigleman | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Alexander Stigleman Poem
Addict or Attic?
Same difference.
Both stay high.
Both store happiness.
One burns it. One hordes it.
Both gather more.
Both lock the door so no one
can see the mess they've become.
Hiding in the room behind
memories, a dusty fog of what life
used to be, could be and is.
Eventually they both die.
One had too much. One could never get enough.
Both self-destruct.
Copyright © Alexander Stigleman | Year Posted 2014
|