Showing posts from January, 1998

Sperm Ain't No Joke

30. Jan. 1998 By Alex Nuttall - Bio I am writing a poem In Front of Me And the Desk is getting closer And closer to the Goal Of minute factions And fractures And People Telling us all What it is We are up to In the end It Is Still the end And that Ain’t No hip-hop junk, Mista’, By the way We have all Been writing it seems like We ain’t ever Going to finish That intention That it Was that we Were going to Do. BUT Let’s face it That intention Was the sperm Going After the egg And as odds Have it we Were the Lucky ones who After prolonged exposure To Life Get to die anyway. Sperm Ain't No Joke -- Alex Nuttall Alex Nuttall writes the title of this poem in 1998, "Sperm Ain't No Joke". He contemplates his life and life from the relationships that produce it to the end result which is death. It's nothing to be afraid of. It's a powerful realization that makes ever moment special. Poetry by Al

Leave A Stone

2. Jan. 1998 By Alex Nuttall - Bio The grass is there and I am aware of the growing pains Young is the person who forgets Age is discovering that I am not here anymore Gone with the leaves as they green, grow, fold and fall Arch the way to my heart and leave a stone to remember. Poetry by Alex Nuttall, title: Leave A Stone, Original Date: 19980102 – © Alex Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1998 – 2017 – Retro-published 20170822. A funeral for a Jewish person where the grass is just as important as the life of observer and the end of days. Leaving a stone on the grave for respect. Keywords: #AlexNuttall #Poetry #OgFOMK #Stone #Mortality #Death #Life

Justice Is A Big Series of Drunks

1. Jan. 1998 By Alex Nuttall - Bio Just when the booze wore off Another has begun, anew And the crew has swabbed the Deck only to have it roosted all over Once more And the city lights die down And dusk creeps into This old poem written again It will blow away again, Amen. Love found soft shoulders To rest its head, good bye, To die again in the pillow, To die again by ones side, This is all That had to be say And now no more, et al. To be in the hands of justice Drunk more and more, amore, That this old poem In her hand It will blow away again; Amore. She told me forever, forever Forgotten now among the blooms Of flowers that are picked And they only wither, What good is love’s Burst and pleasure To leisure itself to sleep And this old poem that is my Friend It will walk away again To keep, Justice has been done. Drunk Man with Cat Poetry by Alex Nuttall, title: Justice Is A Big Series of Drunks


1. Jan. 1998 By  Alex Nuttall  -  Bio I am finding it difficult Wheezing and breathing in the wind, Of the morning, Nostrils conquered with dust And a fever grows ever Gruesome pains that deliver the Me Into the hands of liberty-gone-bad. The handsome soul Now sounds its way into the River and bends its ways to and from and to, Into, For to, Beyond, Recon… Revolutionary instructions will be given Later on, my brother… Later on. Short ways to meaninglessnessess And other messes Of mans occupation in the Babooniverse. This is the teaching of the birds that are like owls screeching And supine around; The corroborator eats its way through the Atmosphere And the General Lee is still on his pedestal. In the Babooniverse this is what makes Us all one, ¿Comprende, No? Oui Oui! No, Poo Poo. BABOONIVERSE Poetry by Alex Nuttall, title: BABOONIVERSE, Original Date: 19980101 – © Alexander Blair Nuttall / OgFO


1. Jan. 1998 By Alex Nuttall - Bio When I wrote before I could open the door And say hello to my mind Being very unkind It did what it did and I had to let go Of all that I thought was right Dynamite in the light the horizon is Forgotten Look at the people all looking at me like Drive-by killings that secede Some governments, All for the sake of Humanis Homo Homo Sapiens Erectus; And the Blue jays still taunt me. Cyanocitta cristata "Bo-Bop-Da-Re-Bop" was a title Alex gathered from an old dude he knew working in construction. The dude's name was Snake Doctor. Alex is not really sure what date this poem was composed. The hard copy is circa 1998. -- ED Poetry by Alex Nuttall, title: Bo-Bop-Da-Re-Bop, Original Date: 19980101 – © Alexander Blair Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1998 – 2017 – Retro-published 20170728.

So Protests the Protestant

01 Jan. 1998 By Alex Nuttall - Bio In School, High School, I Decided To Be A Poet; So I did not pretend to be anything else, My life grows and I get older now, I am still playing the game, I can’t spell, I can’t rhyme, And I can’t pay all of my bills… Oh, look at me! The poet who is; One small step for me  and Years of cleanup  for the Next Generation of Punks and pundits; Sometimes the ground is the same, I am dealing with some people who are a lot Smarter than me – A whole lot smarter; But this is my life and When I die They will all be gone. Protest, Red Square,  Moscow 2012 © Alex Nuttall As always the poet Alex Nuttall is using hindsight to clarify his stretch in the run of life. This poem breaths with the panting runners aches and pains. The run is not over so when this was written in 1998 it was just another move to push the runner on. Experts call this the internal