Poetry Blog by Alexandra Lorenz

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Alexandra Rockwell Lorenz on The Process (Sun, 10 Jul 2016 08:58 pm)


Orange grittiness covers my fingers
Dusting my keyboard with crooked strokes
Back in the old spot
Same chairs
Same order
Same people
Heavy, my thoughts collect like goo 
around the edges
viscous and resistant
I begin
hoping to regain my agility 
Brushing off the grime 
Scraping with my fingernails
to remove the the oxidat...

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Rock music blasting again
through the pasty window panes 
on my break
five screens face to face 
"May I take your order?" 
Why did I think it would be better this time
all plates are the same
and wet mashed potatoes 
are infinitely off-putting 
The gym above the restaurant 
specializes in free weights
we hear them dropped feet from our heads 
I spent all my...

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Homemakers, Homeworkers, Homewreckers

They all gather here 
the three types 
rifiling through briefcases 
ruffling feathers 
Ladies with their ambitions
to be the best in their category 
the makers know the wreckers 
know their smell and taste
remembered from his shirt collar 
this is the hub 
for the whores and the wives and the maids 
they flock to the watering hole 
to gawk at each...

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Summer Meeting

Radishes turning red 
Sunset suicide seems
like the pink of her 
blushing face 
Fans are turning 
in earnest, rowing
through the 
mucky air
Without success 
her chin is dripping 
with salty exhaustion 
wilting in the steam 
No meaning 
just a rotting root  

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The Rebel

The flower grows through the concrete

that flat dark oppressor

who’s overtaken our world


The land used to be soft

supple and sweet with the

loving soil


dirt roads and dirt houses

earth surrounded us

made us remember where we come from


on the open faces of children

the clenched hands of adults

were left traces of the world


work and play involv...

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The Process

Slowly decaying in the sun

Passersby laugh and point

Like an overly ripened fruit

Sending my sweet rotting odor

Into the still air


I try to stop

this chemical process

but decomposition is inevitable

I am becoming soft

and the skin is beginning to curl


it burns

the sunshine

pushing like the knife that cuts

me into pieces

turning me into mush



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If only she

Her skirt

Shockingly short

For the office


Her top

Too see-through

For her age


Her nose

Pitifully crooked

Don’t you agree


If only she were a bit different

we would have an easier time

packaging some manufactured respect

to sell her.

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The man began to cry

Four feet from my ears

Which stretched and strained

To catch his conversation

In their elastic curiosity

Great fat tears

Sliding down the mountains and valleys

Cheeks and hollowed out lines

In the corners of eyes and lips

Wetting the paper skin

As shoulders shook and hands trembled

Some words about a daughter

A young girl not seen for a whil...

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Cover Letter

I want to deal with paperwork

not people anymore


Give me bureaucracy

I’ll give you productivity


No more empathy

or patience with the patients


Need that nine to five

cubicle and a coffee break


Bosses will love my

enthusiastic filing


Can’t service another person

just as mental as me


I need a new kind of crazy

The normal kind, pleas...

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Twisting these unruly thoughts

into something presentable


like the knotty hair

my mother used to battle

each morning


in desperation I write

aiming for wisdom

landing on forced


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I am tired behind my eyes

and in the spaces between my toes


the aching melancholy   

wanders into my body 

muddles my mind

leaves my throat closed and dry 


cold with lack of inspiration

sad songs make me limp

a heart infected with 

chords of the past 


I hunger for relief

from this exhaustion

heavy and weak

I succumb


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Time to kill

I take my bow and arrow 
From their hiding place behind my back 
Creeping through the grassy plain 
Seconds and minutes graze 
Moving across the horizon with clock line precision 
The hours lounge in the branches of trees 
Which frame the grasslands 
I know they sense my eyes 
Watching their ticking motion 

The hours are the great cats of this scene 
Surveying their kingdom 
Ruling the ...

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Lustful company

She dabs on a bit of lipstick 
To show that she's not sad 
Walking down the rain drenched concrete 
Passers-by are almost fooled 
Until they see her eyes 

Those two always betray her 
Red and framed with sparkling tears 
Can't be bothered to wipe them away 

Alone on a stool 
Head in hand 
The red has stained her glass 
With kisses she never meant to give 

Other patrons try to cheer her...

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My Humble Opinion


I'll give you pretty words someday 

Instead of the usual gloom


I know it's not much to ask

for lines about flowers and lovers 

instead of crashes and empty holes 


I'm sorry for writing what's in my head 

How much longer can we turn out shit about 

our suicidal, drug addicted, miserable lives


before the world says "who gives a fuck?" 

too late



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Before the Deluge


She was light 

not just in ounces and pounds 

but in the way she moved 


You know what I mean

a person who can elevate the mood

of a room

with a word

or smile 


The pills made her heavy 

not just in the numbers 

of sizes and scales

but in the way she became still 


The deluge of tablets and capsules

knocked her down 

off her stage 


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Why are we so afraid

of writing the same thing twice

As if repeating yourself is a failure

of some creative faculty 


Expecting each line

to contain a unique and 

unexpected morsel of wisdom 

untouched and unspoken 


I don't have anything new to say 

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The colors are melting today

Into pools of muddy goop

It's funny to see the trees usually so loudly green

now grey

But not like in winter

No-today they are not even grey


The grey has also slid into the puddle

Left is only a void where the trees used to be 

for without their colors outlined against the blue

(now voided) sky

their forms cannot be identified


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She drives like wildfire 

Fast and uncontrolled 

Unevenly coating the pavement

with her angry fumes 

Her head is falling to her chest

Small salty diamonds

Drip onto her lap

Her hands are burning 

Arms are aching 

With the inclination to veer off to the left 

Hard and with great intention 

To end the night in flames


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No words

Words are fickle friends 

They often squirm away from you 

like a child

who doesn't want her face wiped


Today I have lost my words

Swallowed by the panic 

Which overtook my tongue 

this morning while I held that squirming child 


My mouth tastes different with the words taken out 

Dry and bitter without the sweet syllables 

I open wide

Hoping to catch them...

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Beams of Light

entry picture

Just around the edges 

the day is announcing its arrival 

Slivers of light

a combination of sun and moon 

sneak into our bedroom 


He sleeps with a smooth face

Calming my morning worries 

and anxieties about what's to come 

Constancy is his best quality 

the perfect compliment to my irregularity 


The yellow flowers he brought me

stand tall on their green l...

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Professional fuck up

Panic attacks at work

Are not conducive

To getting promotions


Hyperventilating rarely reflects well

In performance reviews 

I am petrified of criticism 

And yet it consumes me


They shout loud angry words 

My failures are apparent and unforgivable 


How can I function

With such an aching anxiety 

Tearing holes in my belly 


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Coffee Shop revision

Yesterday I got it wrong

The man behind me in line was not impatient

He was late


Today he smiles at another customer 

And jokes about the dog doing tricks outside

Today, instead of silence from the regular crowd,

I hear laughter


It's a relief to know 

my perceptions are so variable

that one day I can see nothing but hostility 

and the next day nothing but lo...

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The Observer

I have an awful habit 

of staring at strangers too long.


What starts as an innocent glance,

transforms into hostile glares.


I have a terrible addiction

to observing a lite too closely

The movements and appearance of others.


I can imagine it's a bit off-putting 

to be eyed in such a way.


Though I don't mean any harm,

my careless tendencies 

seem ...

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Coffee shop

I choose a table in the middle 

To feel like I'm part of the rush.

Regulars are identified by their silence 

Receiving their drinks without need for a word.

I stumble over my order...

One small? tall? short? Fat ameri-frappe please hold the dairy...

I'm certain I did it wrong

Every hole in the wall has its own lingo

To distinguish those in the know

From those who wandere...

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Exhaustive Energy

Quarter to four is when I woke,

Like a motor going full-throttle in my brain,

I bounce from room to room 

Objects are lifted and shifted

until I am left with a disheveled space

and the same thirst for peace. 



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Plain faces

We work in parallel 

Space is in our definition 

One day

I opened the door

That so strategically separates us 

I caught a glance 

Just a second's view 

Of his naked face 

How beautiful to observe 

Unobstructed honesty 

Even when it isn't what we want to see 

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Quite enough

I think you had better stop

What are we healing again?

Some self imposed dose of catharsis to cleanse your what...colon?

                      ; Semicolon you mean

This is poetry not a rubber glove. Eat more fiber. 

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Certified insanity

Don't you love the smell of institution? A sweet chemical concoction  

They wheeled me in at half past two, Strapped to the bed

Gnashing teeth and rolling eyes Don't you love the show though? 

​the tablets get bitter as they dissolve under my tongue 


No I won't be sharing during group

The other inmates are so strange 

I like to play therapist during free time

CBT, DBT, ps...

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Morning Conversation

"Your poems are complete shit"...least that's what I think

Roll over, and over, to the edge. 

Machines are in the woods today. They'll start their raping soon. I don't much care for trees. 


Fuck your inspiration it's no good here 

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Growing pains

Vanity colors each glance 

Judgement of our every line.

Fullness fine

But long for hollow. Each shadow betraying time 

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Where the pavement crumbles

Down the road we tumble 

Fumbling mouths round out the awkwardness 

"It's a nice night..."

The yellow lines and evergreens work together to define our path 

"Could you slow down a little!?"

How do we forge this river? 

Narrow bridges and narrower minds keep us divided.

Sounds of the road tear into the car as we sit yet fly 

Relative motion makes us woozy 

We stumble towa...

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The First

Possessive Poison

Paints Holes,

Heals Hearts,

Hurts Pride,

Points people to their Nature,

Happy to be seen. 

                        Even in the last days we remain complete as in the first. 

                        This continuity contains our beings. 

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On the Fly



The two men are a funny pair. Two cups of deep, black coffee are pushing on my bladder walls. 

I wish you were here with me. Isolation has gotten tiresome and I am ready for some stimulation. 

No one wants to talk to the girl in black. This resting bitch face has gotten out of control. 

God I want a pastry. 


But the mirror across from this table reminds me of my chi...

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I watch my life as most view a film.

Sitting in dark rooms, images flash past my eyes.

Years get condensed into a neat stack of flashbacks;

I am left with bare impressions to guide my self-perception.​


My love affair with “yes” never ceases to take my breath away.

The word slips from my lips and slithers loosely into the air.

More condemnable are the actions that follow.


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