Alex Alexander Poems

Enemies of Solitude
It's ironic, in their self-servant mode, unaware of their pending destruction.
As they feast on my flesh, those protagonists devour uninvited scavengers
Circling like wolves crouching to pounce. Surrounded by spreadsheets,
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"Detach" Public opinion doesn't make it so since everyone has one. Even the court of law makes its final blow. Based on their perception, fly by night: Hear what was said; after reading between the thin lines. Matter very little in the scope of things so that it would seem. Borderline brought to a view, if they're honest, who knew? Dress up only to be dressed down: in utter point of view: Here comes the rain released into the atmosphere; Only to be retrieved mid-dominos effect. Based on their figure of speech. Which validates some need to legitimize an inner basis. Having imposed magnetized quantities of double edge triangles dispensed toward judgemental hypocrite. Rubik's cube rhetoric is related, debated, promoted, and devalued as vanilla ice cream, landing on ninety-degree asphalt.
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A Sort of Meditation

An invitation to meditation:
Laying still as a stone.
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A Place To Remember

Where once we call our own;
A brief hello, a moment.
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A Piece of Heaven on Earth

She blinds with her seductive elixir.
mixed senses, intoxicated, rain on me:
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Keep Calm And Carry On

Coming into the now, from where the past has come to pass.
Only to make known how all things can work together for good.
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Morning Reconciled

When the light of a new day opens wide her inexhaustible daybreak, flings wide your curtains as her reflection pierces off multi-colored windows, and pulls up those dancing vertical blinds. This early morning announces the encounter. Listens as birds out on a limb, creating melodies. As the dew rises with a fresh mesmerizing sensation and calm aroma, and watches as the flowers grow.
In this, mindfulness becomes the strength of the day.
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What's with Preconceived Notion
All in the name of,

We lived our lives: as wandering spirits;
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The words hold significance and power,

As they cascade like a muse, drawing you in
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WIND
An unexpected visitor arrived in our town of Flint Hill the other day. Yes unannounced, having journeyed far and wide, legend has it that he was
the son of the rock of ages, ancient of time.
Angles chasers, his presence was as we all beheld
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