AM

Author

Alex Mascarenhas

38 works

Genres: Essays Poetry
Poetry

A Long Friday Ago

I hate bugs
I can’t stand bug people
Cocoons lie

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Poetry

Alive – or Otherwise

I open my eyes
Low and behold, to my surprise
I am alive still

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Poetry

And then… silence

And I died a little bit more.
Fascinating how you can keep on dying even when there’s no more life left in you.
And she was moved by nothing else but the crushing weightlessness of her wants.

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Poetry

Batman and the Maid

However sad for a true man
It has been said that a woman
Either loves or hates; she knows no medium

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Poetry

Close your Eyes

You close your eyes, look at the ground
Where the clowns sprinkled the clouds with glitter
Your ears are keen, head on her mound

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Poetry

Corny Thievery and Wit

To spend my ink on my ilk
Proves to be quite a daunting task
To not error in my speech

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Poetry

DarkWoman

And so I see the world with black eye whites
I touch you with dark hands
Your insides are less than white

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Poetry

Down There

I do not want to die
But I do not care if I did
A day, two months, ten years

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Poetry

Drunk, Sinking

I once drank wine so sweet
My heart sighed, filled, replete
Happily the town drunk

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Poetry

F-Day

The lightness
Free-falling
Freed

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Poetry

For Margaret

Today my heart ached
However, no, I did not cry
I was pleased to know

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Poetry

Heaven and Hell

Love, I will go with you
Wherever you’re off to
Some say that you descended from cloud nine

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Poetry

Hole in the Whole

I looked deep, deep into the whole
And the bottom was there, so close
The bottom... so close... could’ve just swallowed me

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Poetry

Honey and Olives, Somber and Sober

I like to snack on olives
I like healthy treats
But, hon, do you even care

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Poetry

Incubus

Ask me not what I think of you
My dark tongue could desecrate your pupils
Time breathes, time heals, and time knifes your scruples

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Poetry

Jewel of Denial

The sun, he made a late appearance
Hungover, he rose up woozily
Beating, burning, itching bad

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Poetry

June in September

It happened one time
One Friday in June
The night was the day

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Poetry

No Ar

Está nas paredes
Um sonho lento, só, urgente
Muito são para ser demente

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Poetry

Ravenous

I don’t know this man – never met Ray, yet…
He knows me; I know him
I don’t have a wife – her name is Babette

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Poetry

She

She was jealous not of me
She was jealous of herself
If another looked at me

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