The Space Between

A calling: questions I ask myself

All that we see or seem

and what that has come to mean

nothing will make sense 

to a pocket without pence

tossed in a sea but you're not swimming

locked in a race that you're not winning

who will try? who will fight? who will leap?

Who will plunge into the deep?

Who will raise their melancholy head

from a dream life that's almost dead?

And take and do and say and seek

and bend and break and be not weak?

There is no one, there is not.

There is me and that's a lot

there is no one, there is you

You are someone, what will you do?

Some nights, I wish that my lips could build a castle, Some nights, I wish they'd just fall off

                                                                                "Some Nights"

Some nights, I stay up cashing in my bad luck
Some nights, I call it a draw
Some nights, I wish that my lips could build a castle
Some nights, I wish they'd just fall off

But I still wake up, I still see your ghost
Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for oh
What do I stand for? What do I stand for?
Most nights, I don't know anymore...
oh woah, oh woah, oh woah oh oh
oh woah, oh woah, oh woah oh oh

This is it, boys, this is war - what are we waiting for?
Why don't we break the rules already?
I was never one to believe the hype - save that for the black and white
I try twice as hard and I'm half as liked, but here they come again to jack my style

And that's alright; I found a martyr in my bed tonight
She stops my bones from wondering just who I am, who I am, who I am
Oh, who am I? Oh, who am I? mmm... mmm...

Well, Some nights, I wish that this all would end
Cause I could use some friends for a change
And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again
Some nights, I always win, I always win...

But I still wake up, I still see your ghost
Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh
What do I stand for? What do I stand for?
Most nights, I don't know... (come on)

So this is it? I sold my soul for this?
Washed my hands of that for this?
I miss my mom and dad for this?

No. When I see stars, when I see, when I see stars, that's all they are
When I hear songs, they sound like this one, so come on
Oh, come on. Oh, come on, OH COME ON!

Well, this is it guys, that is all - five minutes in and I'm bored again
Ten years of this, I'm not sure if anybody understands
This one is not for the folks at home; Sorry to leave, mom, I had to go
Who the fuck wants to die alone all dried up in the desert sun?

My heart is breaking for my sister and the con that she call "love"
But when I look into my nephew's eyes...
Man, you wouldn't believe the most amazing things that can come from...
Some terrible lies...ahhh...

oh woah, oh woah, oh woah, oh oh
oh woah, oh woah, oh woah, oh oh

The other night, you wouldn't believe the dream I just had about you and me
I called you up, but we'd both agree
It's for the best you didn't listen
It's for the best we get our distance... oh...
It's for the best you didn't listen
It's for the best we get our distance... oh...

All That We See or Seem

A Dream Within A Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream? 

Edgar Allan Poe

Find A Format For That File

// FIND A FORMAT FOR THAT FILE//

ALL MY LOVE POEMS ARE LOST
WHAT
AM I TO DO?
WHAT WORDS OF YOURS
HAVE I TO BOLSTER
MY PAST MEMORIES OF YOU?
YOUR NEW LOVE POEMS I HAVE NOW
BUT THEY’RE SOMEWHAT HARD TO PROVE
BECAUSE THE YOU THAT’S YOU ISNT THE YOU THAT’S YOU
AND THE YOU THAT WAS YOU IS NOT AS MUCH AS THE YOU YOU WILL BE
FOR YOU ARE FAR, YOU THEN, YOU NOW, YOU WILL BE…
EITHER WAY I’M MISSING…WHAT IS IT?
YOU.

FOR l.a.  fOR a.r. fOR i.j.

What Is Past, poems from the red journal

This is an old poem of mine but it's one of my favorites. The title was inspired by a book of Finnish poetry I found in the Czech National Library. That was a good day. :-)

A Way To Measure Time

The taste of you

like the electric shock 

of mouthwash

mint laced with alcohol

metallic aftertaste lingering

turning everything after

to bitterness.

Alexa Alari

To je stará báseň moje, ale je to jedna z mých oblíbených.Titul byl inspirován knihou finské poezie jsem našel v knihovně České národní. To byl dobrý den.

Způsob měření času


Chuť vás

jako úraz elektrickým proudem

z ústní vodu

máta protkaná alkoholem

kovová pachuť přetrvávající

soustružení vše po

k hořkosti.


Alexa Alari

Some say the world will end in fire...

Fixed Fire Glory Day

by Alexa Alari

// FIXED FIRE GLORY DAY//

THE DESERT LIZARD HAS COME OUT

TO ROCK

AND BASK IN HEALING

GLOW

WHERE EARTH MEETS SUN

STONED/PACKED MINERALS

REFLECT HEATLIGHTVIOLETMIRROR

RAINDROPS KISS FLOWING RIVERS

CARDINALWATER RAIN DANCE RUN TO THE

EVER

SHIMMER

SEA.

BY ALEXA ALARI

Look Closer

BEHIND EVERY WORD IS A WHOLE WORLD.

HEINRICH BÖLL (VIA THEPARISREVIEW)

(VIA APOETREFLECTS)

...all the world, West meets East

DAILYARTJOURNAL:

ABSTRACT WATERCOLOR ARTWORK BY JOSE F. SOSA ON FLICKR.

"Amazing and Wonderful" by Peaking Lights

No man live forever, but never say never, Every goodie want better, just be a go getter, And always be clever, in every endeavour

[DAMIAN MARLEY]
HEY.. THE VICTORY’S FOUND IN TRUTH, 
LIKE INNOCENCE FOUND IN YOUTH 
SELF DEFEAT IS YOUR OWN DISPUTE 
AND MAN YOU PUT YOURSELF IN A YA OWN SHOESES EITHER YOU’RE WINNING OR LOSING 
DON’T YOU GET IT CONFUSED 
TAY YOU STARRING IN A YA OWN MOVIE 
PLAYING OF A ROLE YOU CHOOSE SO
STAND UP AND FIGHT IF YOU KNOW SAY YOU’RE RIGHT AND NO YOU WON’T EVER FAIL 
TIPPING THE SCALE AND THE WIND SHALL PREVAIL AND THE BOAT SHALL FOREVER SAIL 
(HEY) THERE AIN’T NO STOPPING OR CRUISING
EVEN WHEN YOU’RE BATTERED AND BRUISED 
HOLD GUN ALL DI SPRINKLERS AND HE TELL HIM BUST MY GAT TOUGHER THAN ZEUS 

[CHORUS 1X - DAMIAN MARLEY]
WHEN THE ARMAGEDDON’S DARK AND DREAD 
A LOT OF WEAK ARE TO WEEP AND MOAN 
ONLY THE STRONG WILL CONTINUE 
DO YOU HAVE IT IN YOU? 
COME WE’VE GOT A JOURNEY TO GO 
AND WHEN THE BATTLE GET SOUR AND DREAD
A LOT OF WEAK ARE TO WITHER AND MOAN 
ONLY THE STRONG WILL CONTINUE 
I KNOW YOU HAVE IT IN YOU 
I KNOW YOU HAVE IT IN YOU 

(SOURCE: SAYITWITH-WATERCOLOR, VIA MADJACK)

No End

“THE END IS NEVER THE END. A NEW CHALLENGE AWAITS. A TEST NO MAN COULD BE PREPARED FOR. A NEW HELL HE MUST CONQUER AND DESTROY. A NEW LEVEL OF GROWTH HE MUST CONFRONT HIMSELF. THE MACHINE IN THE GHOST WITHIN. THIS IS THE JOURNEY OF THE MAN ON THE MOON.”- SCOTT MESCUDI

(SOURCE: IRAMEADJONES)

Solo fast dance in the Everlasting Light of a summer Strobe night

Original poem and photo by Alexa Alari

Solo fast dance in the Everlasting Light of a summer Strobe night

All my light was buried

all my love blood red

All my light was burning

locked inside my head.

All my light is bursting

all my fear is shed

All my life was yearning

to be raised from the dead.

photo from last summer, smoke signal dancing with my sis, Deadmau5, poem from this morning, listening to The Black Keys, they do rock with ease.

from Irina The Lonely White Dove

Love is A Parallax

by Sylvia Plath

'Perspective betrays with its dichotomy:
train tracks always meet, not here, but only
    in the impossible mind's eye;
horizons beat a retreat as we embark
on sophist seas to overtake that mark
    where wave pretends to drench real sky.' 

'Well then, if we agree, it is not odd
that one man's devil is another's god
    or that the solar spectrum is
a multitude of shaded grays; suspense
on the quicksands of ambivalence
    is our life's whole nemesis. 

So we could rave on, darling, you and I,
until the stars tick out a lullaby
    about each cosmic pro and con;
nothing changes, for all the blazing of
our drastic jargon, but clock hands that move
    implacably from twelve to one. 

We raise our arguments like sitting ducks
to knock them down with logic or with luck
    and contradict ourselves for fun;
the waitress holds our coats and we put on
the raw wind like a scarf; love is a faun
    who insists his playmates run. 

Now you, my intellectual leprechaun,
would have me swallow the entire sun
    like an enormous oyster, down
the ocean in one gulp: you say a mark
of comet hara-kiri through the dark
    should inflame the sleeping town. 

So kiss: the drunks upon the curb and dames
in dubious doorways forget their monday names,
    caper with candles in their heads;
the leaves applaud, and santa claus flies in
scattering candy from a zeppelin,
    playing his prodigal charades. 

The moon leans down to took; the tilting fish
in the rare river wink and laugh; we lavish
    blessings right and left and cry
hello, and then hello again in deaf
churchyard ears until the starlit stiff
    graves all carol in reply. 

Now kiss again: till our strict father leans
to call for curtain on our thousand scenes;
    brazen actors mock at him,
multiply pink harlequins and sing
in gay ventriloquy from wing to wing
    while footlights flare and houselights dim. 

Tell now, we taunq where black or white begins
and separate the flutes from violins:
    the algebra of absolutes
explodes in a kaleidoscope of shapes
that jar, while each polemic jackanapes
    joins his enemies' recruits. 

The paradox is that 'the play's the thing':
though prima donna pouts and critic stings,
    there burns throughout the line of words,
the cultivated act, a fierce brief fusion
which dreamers call real, and realists, illusion:
    an insight like the flight of birds: 

Arrows that lacerate the sky, while knowing
the secret of their ecstasy's in going;
    some day, moving, one will drop,
and, dropping, die, to trace a wound that heals
only to reopen as flesh congeals:
    cycling phoenix never stops. 

So we shall walk barefoot on walnut shells
of withered worlds, and stamp out puny hells
    and heavens till the spirits squeak
surrender: to build our bed as high as jack's
bold beanstalk; lie and love till sharp scythe hacks
    away our rationed days and weeks. 

Then jet the blue tent topple, stars rain down,
and god or void appall us till we drown
    in our own tears: today we start
to pay the piper with each breath, yet love
knows not of death nor calculus above
    the simple sum of heart plus heart.

I follow rivers

Original photo by Alexa Alari, lyric by Lykke Li

Because I Love Love Neruda

Looking for an existential detective?

January California

Finally, it’s raining.

My window is open to the January air

so I can hear the rain music and the night noise.

Peeling an orange fresh from the land

Citrus juice bursts 

I’m eating a jewel.

My Japanese fish is looking for a fight.

I’ve become a pair of nocturnal night eyes

Irises in full bloom.

Mark my words

yours are my bedtime story.

It smells like SoCal

Original photo by Alexa Alari

Dawn be Crackin'

I'm not quite asleep and not quite awake
I can't believe how this young body aches
Got to stop all these dark nights of late
I like to hang with the stars and the owls
and join the lone wolf when it howls
I'm one of those all night stay up laters
contemplating the moon and it's craters
I'm not wasting my time by making these rhymes
But now it's dawn and I'm ready to crash
So blow out the light and scatter the ash.


by Alexa Alari