Stephen J. Alexander's Blog, page 2
February 19, 2020
New Poem 5 – Misconception
Misconception by Stephen J. Alexander (February 2020) *An attempt at free verse, inspired by Taylor Grace & Rupi Kaur
A middle age man stops to buy red wine from the corner store. His overalls and hands are covered in pink paint. “Baby daughter?” offers the friendly female cashier inside. “Nope” he replies gently. “I’m just a fan of Italians racing bikes.”
He saw a blackbird squashed by the side of the road; flat but uniquely preserved like a one-dimensional paper drawing. There are some entrails but no evidence of there ever having been a brain; just that beady black eye and yellow beak, as if drawn for daddy by that misconceived “baby daughter.”
February 17, 2020
A Bridge — The Broken Inside of Me
This poem is by Taylor Grace from Texas. It’s part of her “The Broken inside of me” collection. Like all of her rhyming and free verse alike, I reckon it’s great…BetweenYour worldAndMineA bridge Floating sensualityMagnetic gravityAromatic greedLeading me In the middleI waitDesire brewing ImaginingVividBoldSeductiveExquisite fantasies Excitement expandingHeady euphoriaRequesting releaseYou, what I need
New Poem 4: Be Kind;
Be Kind; by Stephen J. Alexander (February 2020)
I shed a tear last night for Caroline, a star of stage and screen. It goes to show you never know what happens behind the scenes.
The lights that sparkle, the sequined smiles, a pretty face that’s hiding trials and tribulations, the public don’t want to see, a girl’s depression that reeks of you, and me.
They say she felt the public’s scorn. They talk of how her family mourns. But no-one thought to look before, when loneliness knocked that celebrity’s door.
I shed a tear most nights for all of us, as our communities lie in tatters. I despair at all the selfishness, when giving love is all that matters.
Think “MIND”; Be “KIND”;
New Poem 3: Hypocrisy
Hypocrisy by Stephen J. Alexander (February 2020)
Remembering how we used to roam, from 9 A.M. ’till lunch at home. Beans on toast, the table set. For mum, on time, we’d never forget.
Now, trouble at sea, it did exist. “Why, Jimmy Saville was one to miss,” Or so said dad who tore up my letters saying “son, he’s a queer sort and you can do much better.”
We all had watches, we could tell the time. We had respect for people right down the line. Overgrown tunnels & brand-new building sites, but if home by noon it was always alright.
When infant animals would hunt in packs, no predators touched us on disused tracks. But now it’s wiser just to stay in doors, snowflake children safe from monster’s claws.
Yet their parents are the very same ones, who drained dad’s whisky and stole mum’s rum, who ran wild in forests, slept out in tents, then threw chips and litter over the neighbour’s fence.
They went off to college to escape from home in a big new city, yet more chance to grow in a world they feared and still abhor, and which for their own offspring, they’ve simply closed the door.
The garden gate is always locked, so there’s no more need to count the clock, And trampolines are all down in price, So, for Generation Fear, it all ends,…”nice.”
February 12, 2020
New Poem 2: Marmite
Marmite by Stephen J. Alexander (February 2020)
My mate, whose mate? Our mate Marmite! RE: testing weapons, the need is high. But the French Armada on a Greenpeace ship? Sinking rainbows must be a crime.
My mate, your mate, our mate, Marmite! You either like him or you don’t. But good old, stinky tree man ‘Swampy’, tried in Newbury to stop the road.
My mate, whose mate? Our mate Marmite! For war in Iraq, they did conspire. A million Brits out on the streets of London couldn’t stop that man, B-LIAR!
But now we’re dealt the strongest blow, from which we say, “we’ll not return,” yet Capitalist hacks ignore our attacks as they watch Australia burn!
New Poem 1: Owed to the Young…
Owed to the Young… by Stephen J. Alexander (February 2020)
My tank is low, I’m running out; not much more gasoline. “I’m sorry, did I pollute again? Of course, we’ve all gone green!”
The party’s turned to coffee, it keeps you all awake. What happened with you young people? “Drink wine for goodness sake!”
They think I talk in riddles, but I’m just killing time. “Am I really making such little sense ‘cos I don’t live for Amazon Prime?”
To look, you must be sexist, and to opine, that’s just not cool. To smoke, to joke, to drink ’till you choke You’re all so formal, loving rules!
Your dads smelled just like Teen Spirit, Your mums raved on ecstasy pills, now you say you work harder than ever, to make up for your parents’ ills?
It’s climate crusades and serenades, being gay without inhibition! A Starbuck’s cup, a career on the up, A global multicultural mission!
I say to this, “that all sounds fine. It’s your world, my time’s nearly done. But in amongst all that stress, just make time to have some fun!”
February 10, 2020
2 Poems from Derby 1991-1994
Lone Sonnet Drive by Stephen J. Alexander (April 1992)
Take a long slow drag on the cigarette, and allow your thoughts to lose sense of direction. Then leap softly downwards onto the colourful floor, and laugh in stupid drones. The ground is rough but lacks something definite. It’s hard to think positively as louder sounds depress me, and this lapse of sense, and dependability, has rendered me mad – Alive but trapped. Escape from my purple world is impossible. There are seven miles still to travel on this rough edge, but the ride’s without pleasure this time. I need my friends around – That’d be good. Let’s rise to the feeling – And, “Let’s Start Dreaming.”
Sex Education by Stephen J. Alexander (May 1992)
“Ride me” said the lizard to the beautiful virgin. “Let’s Slither and Drop down paths unseen, trails down which you’ve never been.”
Caress the rhythm, feel the music, taught by the lizard famed for using. Experience fills this fearless beast – She is slipping further deep.
Losing her past, gaining a rhythm, feeling the power of the reptile’s eye, she knows that her memory will never die.
February 9, 2020
2 Poems from London 1994-1999
London by Stephen J. Alexander (April 1998)
On Palmer’s Green I first felt fear, I’ve come down here for someone dear – The world awaits – Bright Lights, Big City. But all I feel is mild self pity.
In Southgate town we found a home, with you around, I’m never alone. At the circus a tube train roars. But I’m cold and wet by Asda‘s door.
Down Teddington way I’m back to school, an English teacher who plays the fool. At play, the kids think I’m the best. At rest, my love has gone and left.
It’s Hounslow now I call my home. How can one man feel so alone? A Heathrow plane soars overhead, to London Town where dreams lie dead.
A Poem on the Underground by Stephen J. Alexander (June 1996)
The sun is falling on a Friday evening, Ealing Broadway’s like a rocky shore, rich man passes, says “it’s no Big Issue”, seller cowers there in the shoe shop door. And her eyes, they read “Goodnight”. Her eyes just read “Goodnight”.
Old man sits there, his face is vacant. Hounslow East to his small abode. He leaves the platform, walks down a side street, quite a distance from his rented home. And his eyes, they say “Goodnight”. His eyes just say “Goodnight”.
February 8, 2020
Amazon Fantasy Charts 2019-2020
I’ve developed a bit of a strange habit…
I haven’t forgotten that I’m a published author. But I often go months without checking in with social media to promote it. That said, when ever I do check into Amazon and I see myself riding high on the fantasy sales league tables often positioned alongside other much more recognisable authors like Neil Gaimon or Raymond Briggs … if only briefly… I have a habit of photographing and posting the screen image on Twitter for posterity!
I think #21st is the highest I’ve been. I was most chuffed in 2019 to get to 41st once when Neil Gaimon’s Coraline was only at 43 (that week). I’m usually down at 200th in the Fantasy chart and in the overall chart, if my position were a financial sum, I’d have done a runner to the Caribbean by now…
Huntingdon Public Library, August 2019
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I almost forgot this one…I was still on holiday mode. Good thing I remembered in the end! I raced up the A1 to get there just in the nick of time to find that the library had been selling tickets for the event of me reading and talking about my book with a bunch of little kids on school holiday…
I never saw any of the money myself…Then again, I probably didn’t deserve paying…I’d been drinking wine the night before and had a really sore head throughout the talk…
