One Sunny Day I Dreamt
One sunny day I dreamt
I saw a world of pure light-
the purest light that danced inside
my heart and poured upon
the city streets with joy...
One sunny day I dreamt
I saw my love, her smile
upon me like a gentle wind,
somewhere beyond the lonely
shopping malls, beyond
the hungry beggars stooping
dazed and staring at the vulgar
wealth that burns the eyes...
One sunny day I dreamt a paradise!
And then I laughed a very silly
laugh that burst inside me
like a flock of birds that
seemed like people arguing inside
about vacuum cleaners, underwear,
cars, recession, pimples, prices,
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poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Your Insanity
It took me years to understand
Your insanity-
Your flowery rhythms and
Your mismatched attire
And shoes,
That smiled upon me
Each time you spoke
Something unimportant-
Yes, there is purpose in it,
I suppose-that some divine
Providence that lifts you
Higher than this mundane
World-but I found
It's this insanity that keeps
You doing what you're
Doing-
Like songs of crickets
And wild yellow flowers
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poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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The Dawn of the New Beginning
This is the dawn of the new beginning,
Where everything seems in a state of flux
With new opportunities stirring and spinning-
The time for restoring my faith in love.
Where am I going? What am I doing?
Where have I been and what have I done?
I'm just going where the trouble is brewing,
I'm just going to have me some fun.
Time goes by and there are no answers,
As I consider the old and the new,
Falling sometimes, while others are dancing,
Screaming at them: 'What's the matter with you? ! '
Little by little the student turns master,
Little by little the master gives way-
With every blessing comes a disaster,
With every disaster come better days.
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poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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God Bless the Freaks
God bless the freaks
And the deranged,
The ones who are
Violent and strange,
God bless the retards
And the geeks.
God bless the butches
And the femmes,
God bless all those
We condemn,
God bless the brainless
And the meek.
God bless the lowlives
Riding bikes
And punks in leather
Wearing spikes,
God bless the water
And the piss.
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poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Pete the Artist
Pete the artist is a bipolar
Schizophrenic in remission,
Who gets supplemental
Security income and money
From his well-off parents
In Cheshire, Connecticut,
Who sent him to Choate
And to Harvard Extension school
So that he could boast of
A Harvard degree in English,
While his parents pay for his
Art studio, art supplies and strokes
Of genius, as he walks around
In his cowboy hat with Native
American feathers, earrings
And numerous rings on his
Fingers, telling everyone
That he works for living-
Pete the artist is really some
Caricature of what art has become,
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poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Hitting the Mathematical Wall
(after Robert Frost)
Something there is that doesn't love the math,
That sends the frozen needles under skin,
That numbs the skull and stultifies the brain
Before the joy of math discovery begins
Comes sheer torment of quadratic functions-
And who can blame those poor souls that can't add
Two simple fractions or multiply
Signed numbers? -
For there is no reason they can't pass
Remedial math courses with a D
And join the mindless workforce
Of their peers,
Who care not for square roots or logs,
Nor volumes of some pyramids or spheres-
No, they want none of it
In their beer-filled dream,
In their dull and repetitious slumber,
Where there is no x, and no why-
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poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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She's Been Tuning Her Chakras
She's been tuning her chakras,
While balancing her aura
And practicing vegetarianism,
Standing up for animal rights
As her latest fashion statement,
Surrounded by effeminate and gay men,
Who pay her countless compliments-
And I'm reminded of Madonna,
Once a talented singer,
Now obsessed with Kabbalah-
She is obsessed with surroundings
That harmonize with the shallowness
Of her love and her life
And her androgynous sexuality
Of casual bisexual encounters-
And she has seen God in her
Latest orgasm, while washing
The dishes and cleaning the toilet,
And she's determined to be the
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poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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The Splendor of Your Bullshit
Look, dude, poetically speaking
Or not, your bullshit does not
Impress me-no matter how you say it-
Briefly or otherwise; just know
That I am here to have fun, that's all-
No matter what you think of my
Use of language-whether drunk or sober-
I express what's on my mind-
And I don't need to throw chairs
Or tables, or toilet seats into some
Clever verses, calling out for some
Panspermic universe; life is
Mysterious enough, you know,
And you can call me an idiot, et cetera,
Et cetera, and that's just fine with me-
For I enjoy my freedom from
Your cerebral masturbation,
Your enjambments and your
Arbitrary breath stops-
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poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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12 Steps of Bad Poets Anonymous
1. I recognize that I’ve written more trash than anything worthwhile,
And I’m therefore committed to change my ludicrous lifestyle.
2. I give my life up to the Bottle to grant me genius that I miss
And beg forgiveness of bad poets whose asses that I used to kiss.
3. For I’m powerless without it - the mighty strength of Alcohol -
That gives me boundless inspiration, while sitting in a toilet stall.
4. No matter how great the effort, I cannot write a goddamned thing
Without my daily meditation with an alcoholic drink.
5. I drink and I become awakened to all the beauty that’s within
Those sparkling ice cubes in my cognac, my vodka, whiskey, rum and gin.
6. I seek a moral higher ground within my realm of Alcohol,
That grants me peace and inner virtues, that I revere and extol.
7. Let’s drink away our shortcomings until our heads begin to spin,
Until we all become connected to our geniuses within.
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poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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In a Manner of Speaking
In a manner of speaking, I want to kill you,
said the drunk redneck to his wife,
In a manner of speaking, I don't love you,
said my ex (turned vegan) to me,
as I returned from a psych ward, hoping for
some sort of reconciliation,
And in a manner of speaking, the whole
world has gone to shit, that no mentally
unbalanced poet can improve upon,
In a manner of speaking, I was just a haiku
before I birthed an epic poem in 2008
and it went something like:
In a manner of speaking…
In a manner of speaking, there is plenty of
beer and loose women,
In a manner of speaking, there is plenty of
internet journals with useless information,
In a manner of speaking, there are plenty of
assholes writing about getting laid and anal sex
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poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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