Where Are We Going (What Are We Doing?)

What am I doing with my life?
My patience is running out.
I’m feeling less and less alive
and I don’t understand
what all this is about.

I’m just like everybody else
standing in the line
for a slice of golden paradise
a ticket that will never come
but we’ll be waiting till the end
coz we can’t skip ahead.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
We’re all dead men at heart
We’re de-evolving back to start
to see where we’ll come out.

Over and over once again,
a flair was lit tonight,
We’re all still hoping for the right
keep your fingers crossed you might
have your gravel dreams alright
evolve from dust to light.

It’s just the way we live our lives,
with no real point at all
just our crooked circle walls
trapping us in check.
But we still stand in line,
we’ll always stand in line,
most of us will die in this line,
waiting for our time to shine.

Life Through A Syringe

I wake up bleeding

screaming

the anxiety is feeding 

on me

need the cocaine to feel clean.

Ashamed to see him

feed me 

narcissistic genie

Surrounded by a drumbeat madness,

scripted scenes of silence 

with a passion for overrated violence.

Aching to be more

you have to be this tall 

these are strange shores

a big open space hidden behind giant oak doors.

Stay with what you know

it’s closer to home

goodnight and god bless

i’m just a small piece of the big bullshit drone

Followup question

how much do you need?

I got a bag full of confidence and a bag full of greed

You want something strong?

Here’s a good one;

I’ve got courage 

backbone 

and stupidity 

all mashed into one bong.

You think you can make it?

You think you can breath?

Inject this into your body and you will see

it

an ounce of muscle, ten kilos of hate

take too much and you’re letting life decide your fate.

You're Just the Middle Finger

Take a minute to remember

every fucking sentence you’ve rendered

hopelessly beating me

into this bleeding dynasty.

The heart of the warrior

smoulders underneath your weathered boots.

With arms like crowbars,

you shouldn’t be holding anybody’s hand.

Endless pain,

months of mad monologs with the walls,

and I’m too tired to notice the draft

rising from the floorboards.

Someone stabs in the night,

another one bleeds to death.

A love/hate tragedy.

A blind knife,

the blade of confusion,

struck 

with flares

and embers,

sprites and dark clown laughter. 

What’s the point of punishing you,

when you’re not even aware of having done anything wrong.

If Love Was an Animal We'd be the Hunters

The warmth celebrates its freedom.
It surrounded us in a passionate dance of affection.
She told me I was  being stupid,
but it was part of my charm.
I’m clumsy that way.
She held up her hand
waiting for me to hold it.
I was nervous,
my stomach tickled on the inside
but I wasn’t laughing.
She smiled at me,
said it was okay,
she knew what she was doing,
I was just there to enjoy the ride.

There was a firework in my mind,
jumbled up every word I had ever learnt,
making it hard for me to find anything worth saying,
you’d think any word would do,
but this particular warmth wouldn’t be easy to explain with just one word.
It burns you,
as it keeps you warm.
It crackles nosily,
as you fall asleep to the fresh smell of ash.

And suddenly you’re shaken awake,
astonished,
surprised,
comfortably paralyzed.
What burned?
It just might have been your heart starting back up again my friend.

Welcome back.

We Built Ourselves On Top of the People We Pushed Down

Ramshackle diaries, 

at least it gives us a way to get by

and pass the time

while we endanger ourselves by walking barefoot through a minefield.

We feed on the grass we walk on,

drink the sweat from each other’s backs,

and fuck in the dirt trails where thousands of soldiers have died to free us from the tide.

A while back they told us we weren’t good enough for these grounds,

we were told to keep our distance or first grade precautions  would be taken.

They had their batons out before they even finished the exclaimer. 

But time turned to dust and the bones of the fallen were left rotting in the grime,

colouring the stereotypes in their typical neon “look-at-me” shade.

There’s a faint tint of distress painted across the eyes of the survivors. 

A guilt not matched by the amount of bravery put into the effort. 

Careless slumber,

never knew how much we actually settled for but once it was done,

there was no going back,

and that’s when it all started.

That’s when we all started scaring kids with the bloody tales to force them to sleep,

a birth within itself.

“Calm down” they told us,

“It’s only a story.”

But they smirked as they knew it worked. 

We never moved. 

We never tried.

We stayed,

just like everybody else.

But today we roam the lands,

free to do exactly what we want,

when we want,

thanks to the bravery of the fighters 

who lost their life that day

when the war burnt holes in a million people’s hearts,

we still found peace 

in the smallest of things.

Disappointment [short]

It’s like saving your cat from a tree
only to see it run into the street and get flattened by a car five seconds later.

That Feeling III

Have you ever noticed that the sun is always there for you?

And when it isn’t, 

the moon takes its place.

There is always something in the sky, 

guiding you along.

There is always a road to follow,

there is always trees to shelter you,

and grass which you can lay on;

But for how long?

How long do we have all these beautiful things before the planet decides to pack it in?

Our planet is always mentioned in brackets,

like when a guide comes to the end of her tour;

“please enjoy all of the hotels numerous activities, 

oh and make sure you throw all your litter in the dustbins around the hotel.”

Why not mention that first,

so that little Jimmy had thrown his empty mp3 battery where it belongs and not in the bushes.

I’m sick and tired of seeing wrappers and beer cans lying in the shrubbery in the parks.

And just to bitch even more,

all the unnecessary chemicals disposed by driving into town when you live 15 minutes away,

pisses me off to the very least.

Just to top it off,

society is going bonkers;

Kids out of control,

adults molesting children,

individuals afraid to be left outside,

and people eating other people.

Well,

I hope we can all be satisfied with our contribution

to our beloved planets demise.

That Feeling IV

I’m sure you’ve all experienced that tingle in your stomach when you’re waiting excited for something.

You could be waiting for the post every day for something you ordered,

you could be eagerly anticipating a date with someone you’ve just met or someone you’ve been waiting for a long time.

It could be: wanting to get home from school or work to see the game,

snuggle with your boy or girlfriend

or go out for a beer round with your friends.

The absurd thing is;

when your order arrives and the waiting is no longer needed,

you don’t feel fully satisfied.

It’s not that the item was rubbish and you don’t want it,

it’s just that sinking feeling in your stomach, telling you the waits over and you got what you wanted.

It’s bittersweet. 

When it comes to meeting people

it is not the same sinking feeling.

Imagine going to a date you’ve longed for so much that your stomach was literally aching.

Then imagine the date not coming

and you’re left there with the rose you bought and the trimmed haircut you just got.

The one thing that is worse than getting your hopes crushed

and that is if the crushing went unnoticed. 

Therefore

I draw the conclusion

that sometimes waiting is better than what you get in the end.

Here's a pic of me wearing some Limousine merch.
If you have not heard of this band before, now is the time,
in a year, these guys will be played everywhere. No Joke.
They are a band with a huge inspirational impact on my own writing and singer Eric Victorino is the main inspiration that got me into writing poetry in the first place.
Check 'em out.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zx5tSmOY_iM
http://www.facebook.com/thelimousines
/Alex Jack Ralph 

Taking Shit Personal Since 1991

All the people around you are finding each other.
And you realise,
just how cold it can be on the outside.
That ‘special’ someone found someone else.
Not blinking twice to make an effort to see you.
Why?
Are you invisible?
Not good enough?
Or just meant to be an outsider,
left in the net of loneliness.
You’re watching it all from the curve,
two people.
One living room,
an open fire,
two lips touching,
four arms touching
two bodies pressing against each other.
The images bounce back and forth in front of your eyes.
But you cannot look away,
impossible to look away;
because you feel the need to torture yourself
by watching your heartbreaker’s happiness.
Knowing there’s nothing you can do,
nothing to change,
nothing to put in the grave.
So,
there’s nothing colder than being left on the outside.

Thing is,
you can have your ‘special’ someone,
but in the end
we’re all bones, flesh and blood underneath the skin.
When it comes down to primal instinct,
everybody’s gonna act the same way.
Only fictional superheroes with mutated DNA are special
and we all know they don’t exist in real life.
No one’s special yet,
not even you.

Only a Coward Shoots Himself in the Foot

So there it goes,

my self-esteem

I watched it throw itself out the window

I should probably do the same

but then again I’m too lazy to do anything.

I’m a sorry excuse for a human being,

always expecting life to serve itself to me on a silver dish.

I suffer from self-indulgence,

always twiddling my thumbs until the last minute,

then wasting my imagination on something pointless.

Always complaining about something,

my negativity has no boundaries,

always finding some shitty excuse not to do something,

never actually crossing the line to something good. 

See, I just did it again,

it’s like the black death,

dead words rotting in a tomb mouth.

Puzzles of a life,

swung like a golfclub,

kicked like a ball,

the face, the stare

is just one sorry fucking charade. 

I may show a smile, 

I may show a hint of happiness

but what I lack is consciousness and a fine ambition to do the right thing 

and not always take the easier way out.

I’m missing out on the good parts of breathing because I’m so self-obsessed,

thinking I’m always the victim.

I will eventually run myself six feet underground from shear hatred for having disliked so much about myself that my body just gives up. 

I was wet from birth and now I’m dry from living.

But one good thing,

amongst so many bad things,

I’ve taught myself, 

that gratitude lasts a long way.

I will always be thankful for what I’ve got,

and never take anything for granted.

I'm Still Here

Take a spinning trip through my mind-exploring, taking-on-the-world-attitude, 20 paged new poetrycompilation. I feel like I say this about every poetrycompilation I write but dang it, there is some very personal shit in this one. So personal I almost decided to not include some of the poems in it. 

It focuses on trying to find my way back into my soul after losing it for a couple of years and the realization that I’m alright considering the fallout. 

I think that many, just like in the previous compilations, will find that there is a lot in there that they may recognize, maybe from something they’ve gone through themselves or perhaps they know a friend of a familymember, however, hopefully it will touch the reader in someway more than just “oh, black words on white paper, original.” 

Now I’m not completly done with the compliation, but if you’re interested, send me a message with your email or send me an email at alexjackralph@gmail.com, and I will send you a copy as soon as it is done!

If you’ve glanced through my tumblr page and like what you’ve read and want to read more, please feel free to reach out in the same way stated above and I will send you my previous works and compilations. I promise you there will be no disappointment! 

However, 

thank you for reading this far down!

I hope 2012 brings you something good, 

we all need a pick-me-up!

/Alex Jack Ralph

I Dropped a Bottle of Negligence

Are you ready for this?
The master plan to change it all;
Blend in to the prejudice,
hold the pentagrams high.
Fall in line behind the core
and follow the stream to the end.

Fall off the edge of devotion,
subtle desertion,
fed with bullets.

The splatter of silence
echoes in the courtyard
as you convey the message.

There’s a numbness in the air,
never touched by a human finger before.
The loss of the claw
and the roaming within these walls,
haunted by ghosts and ghouls.

Follow the yellow brick road
take the asphalted street
they say home is where the heart is,
but you need to find your heart first.

When you’ve hear the expression
‘easier said than done’
one too many times
perhaps you need to think again
because all you might need to do
in some cases
might be as simple as to act before you speak.

And So the Bird is Ready to Leave the Nest

Tear away from the rest,

go against the stream.

You were chosen to be the one without….

You hold on to yourself,

collar round your throat,

tight,

with a leash tied to it,

strapped to your hand.

You can’t escape yourself now.

You will always know where you are.

Expand your mind to more than the insides of your head,

you try,

but you end up

sprawled on the bed,

sucking your thumb,

like any five your old.

But you aren’t five years old anymore.

Stand on your own legs,

grit your teeth

and smile.

Unleash yourself

upon the world,

feed on it

and it will feed upon you.

Learn new things,

teach old.

The first thing you ever celebrate in life,

is your birthday.

It is the only real tradition you will carry with you through life,

your birthday.

They say you should live in the now,

but also say enjoy life,

don’t grow up to fast,

and don’t forget your roots.

This is one hell of a chicken salad,

and it is impossible to tick them all.

Just make it through the world at your own pace,

replace time with chances and guts,

because you are going to need a lot of that for where you’re going.

The Wounds On My Heart Are Skidmarks From Your Speedy Departure

I’ve heard it before,

this soundtrack

this song

has been on repeat for far too long.

It feels as if time has frozen, 

and stopped me in mid air,

I’m afraid to even move an inch

in case I start a ripple in the life I have to start over.

“It’ll be okay” just doesn’t cut it anymore.

I fell in the battle and now I’m about to lose the war.

Being left behind 

hurts the most,

you know,

it’s like a footballer hitting the post.

The dented heart,

the faint ‘I’m okay’ laugh,

a forgotten word,

a transpired sentence,

a flaw in the blueprint

points toward a hole in the sky. 

I crushed what I could 

but in the end,

what would finally drown me in the dirt,

was one crystal clear lie.

Looking For Something That Could Have Existed but Chose Not To

This is good,
it feels good,
it feels right,
but you’re not comfortable
and I’m out of line.

Put a feather in my cap,
to show that I care,
I’ll take you to Paris,
I’ll take you anywhere,
we struck up a connection
and I suggested we meet up for a talk and a bite.
You refused,
I asked why,
you avoided the question.
Avoided the question…
This must mean I’m not worth while,
I’m not someone special like you said,
that means you lie.
Although you said you could imagine it happening,
but you don’t show it.
Am I ever in your head at all?
You’re in mine frequently,
and it kind of bothers me.
I don’t know why I bother having your image in front of my eyes,
when you don’t even bother being interested.

This was good,
it felt so good,
it felt right,
but I was in the wrong all the time.