| a note from the poet Bernard believes expression should not be inhibited by form and reflect honestly, though enjoying a wide scope of appreciation for the many shapes the art provides, it is a personal mandate of his to increase readership for contemporary poetry by encouraging more organically formed and conversational text that reacts to and captures everyday events. He is the founder of two online sites, 'The Ink Blot' and 'The Cartier Street Review' where artists can submit their contemporary art and poetry for publication and feedback.
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| Bernard Alain has been published and/or featured in a few online journals recently such as the Orange Room Review, Madswirl, Pirene's Fountain, Mississippi Crow Magazine/RiverMuse Press, International Poet, The World Poets Society Electronic Catalog, Bywords, Bywords Quarterly Journal, Smoking Book and others with an upcoming publication in Wood Coin. |
Sunday, February 7, 2010
gullible's travels
and I'd awake to find they'd
pinned me down again
a little harmless meandering
and an entire town
turned on me in my sleep
we had become friends
realizing that size had nothing
to do with it,
I agreed to watch where I was stepping
they swore on a stack
of bibles to never
be underfoot
everything was ok until I banged Sally
last nite
the entire Court of Lilliput was smitten
my apologies to the little people
you were either underfoot
or too close to the action
Sunday, January 24, 2010
blowjobs and perfect legs
the fedoras and the jons spawned another
and I felt the
legs want to wrap around me
but she only screams
with the promise of renumeration
and they
only tame when there's a cut
and the jons don't care either way
just afford the pleasure, feel around
for oohs and ahs
and maybe the emotion not obvious
debased by some caustic agent
eating out fiber
the absence a violation
not commentary not rhetoric
and I write like Monet paints
but with no garden
no palette, no definition of art
where perfect legs
bend easily at the knee from a distance
and I am not the ho
Monday, January 18, 2010
just another prick
"like the red light district here" Paul says
and I remember thinking fuck he must've
been standing completely erect when that came off
the top of his head
but this goes with the anatomy
always upright and visible
looking for an opportunity
to stab a ho one more time
before the better-half arrives
the stag was a failure
the analysts saw it coming
the tuxedo rentals and mirrored balls
didn't change a thing
and the old tin cans banging and popping behind the exhaust
the last known signs of glitz before the big do
was officially
over
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
on gas and newer vehicles
a Challenger dies
on the side of the highway
there's a hole
where the gas cap
used to be,
mechanics insist
at the root of problem
is a hairline crack not easily detectable
by the untrained eye
the loose threading a sure indicator
of poor design
the makers on the other hand
allude to the possibility that
the flaw may be more human,
thinking that the disposition
could've easily occured while
topping-off the wiper fluid and keeping
the coolant in check
on the cold and narrow shoulder
there's no room to test the morbid logic
of pseudointellects or scholarly design
the process of engaging is a loose
foot-stomp countered by a feely grope
for anything with teeth and as long as
the engine turns over and the sock
doesn't fall out
theory atomized
in the first jolt of smoke
Sunday, December 6, 2009
the tools for everything else ...f*
today's horoscope said
a quest for raging passion
could easily drown
the rational man
still the scales tip in a warm southerly hemisphere
and seemingly harmless peri-oral sensors
slither down abs
unbutton i's
naked I paddle through a
kluge in the drawers of
a sophisticated organizer
looking for the little rubber
hats but considering the possibility
that after the leg razor, nail
file and sewing needle pricks
the stars
could be correct
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Shopping Mall Playland

Above is a poster selected from the upcoming 'The Notes of a Digital Ghost' collection by Don Schaeffer, the words on the poster are hard to read in this resolution so I have provided the text below:
Diane Recapitulated So heavy when she lifts herself from the electric legs into a flesh and blood chair. "This damn corpus," came into my mind from hers. But then her face opened at the corners of her broad mouth, like a deep Irish red-head. And she could dance memories of Diane next door in our Pennsylvania days, before we found paradise.*Don's blog is listed on the right along with some other favorites.
