Posts

Showing posts from 1996

Old Pad

Image
2. Jun. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio In the past When he was alone, And had his own pad, He was still alone, But that was okay, Because he was alone, Like he was now. In the morning He would sit alone at the breakfast table Recovering from exhaustive Drunken bedlam, Surviving another evening Without killing himself. Having had a Nutritious meal Of grain cereal, Low-fat milk -- Sometimes with a kiwi fruit -- He would listen to The classical broadcasts. A lonely dark apartment of the evening Would become a morning home To him with the curtains unveiling An eastern sun to him; There they could Be alone together Awake, alive and free. He reflected, "O Night, you did terrible things to me." Description: Poetry by Alex Nuttall, title: Old Pad, Original Date: 19960602 – © Alex Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1996 – 2017 – Retro-published 20180909. The author here reveals his feelings for a place he used to live and the terrible ni

In June

Image
2. Jun. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio A bird came through my window, "Tweet!" It did say to me and then It flew away Just as soon as it had Appeared, It was a wee little angel, It had come to give me an Important message: "Tweet!" Bird From Moscow Poetry by Alex Nuttall, title: In June, Original Date: 19960602 – © Alex Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1996 – 2017 – Retro-published 20170811. Birds are messengers and thus are like angels. Keeping it simple they can awaken a spiritual awareness by their directness and they fearlessness. Keywords: Birds, Angels, Spiritual, Fearlessness

Die Musen

Image
26. May. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio The spiral music stairway On and on it goes up Each step is an “I love you.” Each tread is a tomorrow Each riser is a now Each sleepy foot continues For unbeknownst reason To the top the music goes goes To the top To the end To the top Parinirvana The spiral music stairway © Alexander Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1996 - 2017   | 20170728 -ABN – Ed Date: 2017-07-28 11:14

Truth or Consequences?

Image
26. May. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio “Truth or Consequences?” I say; Soul abandoned among the jewels And debris of some forgotten Wistful—fistful place, El Paso, Texas; And I then say again! “Truth or Consequences?” Gingerly placing my finger On the road atlas page Hiding in the ruins, Inside one blue Ford Fiesta, Late at night Broken With her words echoing-- “Everything is taken care of except her father.” El Paso, Town of dreams Burst at the seams-- Nothing’s there-- A scar As far south as you Are going to get; Then down and out-- Three dollars And some change-- Gas up! One last Co-Cola With New Mexico calling: “Truth or Consequences?” In 1995 before Alex Nuttall was to become a full fledged conscript of the United States Army National Guard he went on a road trip with his trusty 1980 Ford Fiesta. His Ford Fiesta was the sport model which could reach speeds of up to 120 miles per hour. It also managed to get him to Truth of C

Little One

Image
13. May. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio Ten years of bad poetry Did not make him worth much To anyone, Except—maybe--his daughter, Who would not get To say what she really Meant until after he had gone. It works out that way sometimes. Daughter and Father Poetry by Alex Nuttall , title: Little One , Original Date: 19960513 – © Alexander Blair Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1996 – 2017 – Retro-published 20170728 . Poem about a daughter.

0.5mm

7. Apr. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio There was a poem somewhere Around there, And that five-tenth-o-millimeter pencil was Hustling into my naked Awaiting hand. “Use me, use me, baby!” It cried. But none of that mattered. With the exception that I might Lose any intimate feeling I persuaded the sleepless morning Half-dream of legs connected To round and sturdy ass Connected to silken stomach And centered navel and taught, Firm nipples and breasts And, Oh, my goodness a Neck to bite And long dark hair… But it was only a sleepless Turn of events, There was no fluid exchange, A mechanical pencil, That is all, And what can that do? The poem "0.5mm" written by Alex Nuttall. When Alex Nuttall writes he is telling short stories with few words. Here he is looking at a mechanical pencil and wondering what it can do. In a few scribbles the pencil and author are enjoying a woman's body. It's an intimate occasion as writing

Motel #2, Or a Good Cheap Motel Psalm

Image
20. Mar. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio being so mixed up does not pay the rent, nor does it bring good food to the stomach or the brain. How then can it bring liberation to the heart? With illness coming one can passionately plea for God. Gideons’ Bible is in every motel / hotel room. but i will tell you that i do not get my prayers answered. i ask for stupid things that i do not believe in. the language is non-communicative. one is only making noise. “Motel #2“ Alex Nuttall - 20. Mar. 1996 Description: Poetry by Alex Nuttall, title: Motel #2, Original Date: 19960320 – © Alex Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1996 – 2017 – Retro-published 20170904. Another hotel poem. This time getting more spiritual. Eventually letting go of the idea that there has to be an answer. Perhaps action is the answer. Just as the actions of the Gideon who took the labor of the press and distributed throughout hotel rooms. #AlexNuttall #OgFOMK #Poetry #God #Bible #Gideon

Motel #1

Image
19. Mar. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio dehydrated drunk hot motel arid nest masturbate change the channel masturbate read a book page masturbate do the time of several awakened hours waiting for the morning to throw you out of there. Description: Poetry by Alex Nuttall, title: Motel #1, Original Date: 19960319 – © Alex Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1996 – 2017 – Retro-published 20170904. At various points in young adult life and then into middle age one has to stay in hotels or motels. For work one stays in hotels alone or with other people who are working and living the lonely life of chasing money. The writer deals with the carnal knowledge of having a penis, time and downtime and not knowing what to do with it. So he writes about it. #AlexNuttall #OgFOMK #Poetry #Motel #Life #Travel https://ogfomk.blogspot.com/1996/03/motel-1.html Simple Post: “Motel #1“ Alex Nuttall - 19. Mar. 1996 – #AlexNuttall #OgFOMK #Poetry #Motel #Life #Travel

Tri Loka

Image
19. Mar. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio Eka: Over the river and through the woods With difficult breathing-- Difficult breathing, Sloshy snow and hail and rain With difficult breathing-- Difficult breathing, Head throbs heat bacteria move, With difficult breathing Difficult breathing, I cannot write anymore-- Cannot write-- Cannot breath-- This pencil moves too slow; Dva: It’s okay, Take your time, Sasha, Your way is slow, Your method is cumbersome, You can’t spell and You can’t fuck! So take your time—you! It’s not your style, But some things are—sometimes, You will get there if you Are faithful, not to them, but your self, In the end, only you exist... Tri: I say to you O lonely one, Only you exist and they are but tumbleweeds, Your feet are solidly placed on the ground And the ground opens up and swallows you whole, So what is left, you or not? If you miss yourself, You will get a headache, With difficult breathing, Diff

soil (haiku)

Image
25 feb. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio You‘re so beautiful Smoking cigs and drinking beer. Do your panties soil? Marina Bar Alexander B. Nuttall Ver. 28Apr1997 © Alexander Blair Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1998 - 2017 20170618 -ABN

Hard Time Poesy

Image
30. Jan. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio Let us face this, I do not love you, I… I… I love her, That romantic heroine That you can not be, I love that woman Who smokes, drinks, writes, paints And dances, I love that fearless child Inside that great sacred woman Who is not afraid to die, But she knows that she will. Drawing 20020810 Charcoal on Newsprint Poetry by Alex Nuttall, title: Hard Time Poesy, Original Date: 19960130 – © Alex Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1996 – 2017 – Retro-published 20170809. The poet wants a woman who is more fun. He is stuck in a relationship that he is now observing is falling apart. He wants fun again. Keywords: Love, Woman, Poetry, Smoking, Fear Drawing:  Drawing 20020810 Charcoal on Newsprint  by Alex Nuttall

No Time

Image
22. Jan. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio No time. She doesn't have time to write Him so far away. The telephone calls added up. She balanced the check book. Not much left after Christmas and credit card payments. Direct deposit goes the money he earned. United States Army Private Nobody. What the heck, He was just training for Bosnia. "No time.." though. She sends a card she bought a month or so Ago for, obviously, someone else -- A cute Teddy-bear -- Just what he needed to help him pull through. "No time to write, gotta' go." He felt guilty. She let him know that he had not written her For the previous two weeks. If she did something that made him upset and Feel so alone, It was always because he had done it first. She was always sure to remind him of that. Where does it end? In this case, death, and a life insurance policy. O he loved her so. Plenty of time. “No Time“ Alex Nuttall - 22. Jan. 1996 Descripti

Gets Paid to Dream

Image
22. Jan. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio ...gets paid to dream Girl-woman, You have got man In your heart Crushing him so that You think he cannot get out. Oh little girl constricts With her sublime fists The ignorant, poor and wretched – “Hail the Queen! Now off with her head!” – Cake is not good, After all. And man, guy-dude, Buys a telescope And he gets paid to dream – “She is a woman, oh well.” Alex Nuttall and Lena the Cat © Alexander Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1996 - 2017 | 20170804 -ABN – Ed Date: 2017-08-04 10:55