C. Alexander is a small-town Southern born poet who now lives in New England. He has his MFA from Lindenwood University, and dabbles in print and spoken-word poetry. He has a spoken word EP called "Cosmic Aging" that you can find from all online music sources. He has been published in The Eunoia Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, and The Inflectionist Review.
A lazy allusion pulled a
Cassius and killed
himself on his birth-
over a misunderstanding.
A broken similie curved
like a broken smile
after a fist fight on
a black top
backed up to a rhyming train stop.
An alliterative alligator ate an
ambitious aardvark over an antiquated
armistice involving air strikes and
ambulances. Afterward the alligator articulated
about a case of angina and ambivalence.
is stupid. Even in
comic books. And I’ve got
an exhaustive amount of tricks,
except how to make an impact with words.
“Fight the Power”
I bought my protest
flag at urban outfitters,
so you know it is high quality.
I bought my Guy Fawkes
mask from Amazon, only $9.95 plus tax!
He was in
that movie: V for Vendetta.
It was made by Warner
Bros. I think.
Could you imagine if Guy
Fawkes was a real historical figure?
That would be pretty
I bought my Che Guevara
t-shirt at this thrift store,
no you wouldn’t know of it, only cost me
$60 bucks, how thrifty!
I think he was pretty
I have a thing for beards you know?
I’ve been thinking about reading
Thoreau, he went to jail once,
isn’t that so cool?
I’m not sure what for,
I think I slept that day in class.
"Ben and Vincent"
1. B- I’m pretty sure you were an accident.
Accidentally infecting my room, like a virus
That sits beneath your skin even after
The worst has passed. You don’t even know them,
Our parents are a new model. I still remember the
Busted up ford ranger they brought you home in a year ago. Everyone
Said you looked liked Dad, and me. I thought you
Looked like a catastrophe. A car crash. A train wreck.
Wrecking into my understanding of who our parents
Are. I’ve never met the sweet kisses you get. Maybe they gave me them
When I was this young too. All I can hear is the knocking of fists
On wood-paneled rooms. And screaming. And a tiny version
Of a lullaby on your mobile above your crib. And your stupid
Rise and fall of your stupid chest, and I can’t help but hate you brother.
Ben, Your Older Brother, and the only hope you’ve got in this house
2. V- I asked you to stack Legos with me. I hoped we’d make a
Tower unlike the world had ever seen. I always like
The smiling face ones. It brightens up bleak architecture.
You kicked it over and told me you were too old for Legos
Or happy faces. You sat on your bed and plugged oversized headphones
Into a record player. I see you unsheath a song with a purse-lipped man
Spread arms like the crucifix I see in Children’s Church. We sometimes
Color it in with crayon. I try to avoid the color red. Red like Daddy’s face
When he yells at Mommy. She must have done something wrong,
But I’ve never seen it. She just feeds me and kisses me and tries
To act like Daddy never yells. You show some sympathy just behind
Your eyes when you see the yelling upset me, but you never say anything.
Ben, you never say anything to me.
Vinnie, Lego Architect extraordinaire