Alexander Roussel
Alexander Roussel Poems
The trees, the trees have transformed.
Bark-covered branches and twiggy-twigs become fleshy limbs,
Supple legs and reaching arms.
Hands stretch out for any passer-by,
...
Fluffy white sheep,
Cotton ball clumps munching dumbly on the green,
Dewy grass – chew, chew, chew…
...
Pink flowers wither in the desert stifling,
Coughing in the midday sun, begging for relief,
Calloused hands scrape the earth, slicing at green mounds
Peeking up from the scratching sand.
...
Corpse-cold glare
Writhing with agony and hate,
Desires for concrete companions alone dowse
Unrivalled fury,
...
Crystalline tower –
Has the hour already come?
White, grainy pillar –
Sodium chloride monument,
...
Counting the red stars, plum-colored ones too –
Wishing they’d all fall out of the sky like a rainstorm.
Can’t seem to get life to fit together properly.
Always blamed for taking the wrong form.
...
Having a dream only gets you so far –
One day you wake-up and realize where you truly are,
Chest-deep in concrete, staring-up at some distant star –
Wishing, hoping, fantasizing that the world
...
Bubblegum flavored shaved ice in the blazin’ heat ten steps
Outside the Alamo,
Better eat it quick! This sun’ll melt it fast!
...
Poor thing thinks he’s talented!
In his black turtle-necked sweater and black beret,
Drinking his black coffee, snapping his black fingers…
Okay – so his fingers aren’t black, but still!
...
Will I ever see civilization again
Or more importantly – coffee?
I have been able to text family,
but most of them are in Disney World –
...
Alexander Roussel Biography
Alexander Roussel has previously released more than a dozen books – poetry, drama, short fiction, and a novella. Outside of his own collections, his writing has been seen in publications such as Talking Blues, Poets for Living Waters, and The Vermillion. He is the founder and Senior Editor of The White Elephant Quarterly. A servant of God, he hopes to bring glory to his creator through art – in all of its many forms.)
The Best Poem Of Alexander Roussel
The Garden Of Earthly Delights
The trees, the trees have transformed.
Bark-covered branches and twiggy-twigs become fleshy limbs,
Supple legs and reaching arms.
Hands stretch out for any passer-by,
Feet wander about the place,
Here and there you see a face –
Peeking from it all! Trunks become torsos,
Leaves – flowing hair,
That dancing in the breeze, that dances in the air.
Naked bodies intertwine,
Flushed from slurping down cup
After cup of cheap box wine –
From some unknown origin.
Toothy grins smile, mouths stained red,
All are giddy, but they don’t know why –
The wine has gone to the head!
A mass of absent-minded humanity,
Caught somewhere between nirvana
And complete insanity,
Knotted-up together, all lost together –
All completely ignorant together
Huddled in a pile.
The garden, the garden is not a place for stopping
And smelling the roses.
This patch of green, overrun with debauched airheads
Is the sort of place where you want you escape.
The type of verdant field in which once you’ve arrived –
You can’t remember just how long you’ve spent –
Among the natives.
A paradise where every yearning and burning
And begging and desire one might have
‘neath the skin can come true!
In the shade of a demon, sun-tanning his wings –
Crawls hungry lust and jealous pride well-hidden behind
Sparkling trinkets, shimmering ornaments, shining things.
Oh, look how it all glitters in the morning light!
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4/25/2024 11:05:34 AM # 1.0.0.1119
