Showing posts from 1996

Old Pad

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 nights that he endured there. He enjoyed the days after those ev…

In June

2. Jun. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio

A bird came through my window,
It did say to me and then
It flew away
Just as soon as it had

It was a wee little angel,
It had come to give me an
Important message:

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

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


© Alexander Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1996 - 2017 | 20170728 -ABN – Ed Date: 2017-07-2811:14

Truth or Consequences?

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
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 Consequences, New Mexico.  There he managed to run out of ga…

Little One

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.

Poetry by Alex Nuttall, title: Little One, Original Date: 19960513 – © Alexander Blair Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1996 – 2017 – Retro-published 20170728.

Poem about a daughter.


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

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 poetry should be.
 by Alex Nuttall, title: 0.5mm, Original Da…

Motel #2, Or a Good Cheap Motel Psalm

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
i ask for stupid things
that i do not believe in.
the language is
one is only
making noise.

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 #Gideons #Hotel #Motel

Simple Post: “Motel #2“ …

Motel #1

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

Simple Post: “Motel #1“ Alex Nuttall - 19. Mar. 1996 – #AlexNuttall #OgFOMK #Poetry #Motel #Life #Travel

© Alex N…

Tri Loka

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,
Difficult breathing.

Some poetry is good and some poetry is bad. Some poetry li…

soil (haiku)

25 feb. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio

You‘re so beautiful
Smoking cigs and drinking beer.
Do your panties soil?

Alexander B. Nuttall Ver. 28Apr1997

© Alexander Blair Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1998 - 2017
20170618 -ABN

Hard Time Poesy

30. Jan. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio

Let us face this,
I do not love you,
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.

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

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.

Description: Poetry by Alex Nuttall, title: No Time, Original Date: 19960122 – © Alex Nuttall / OgFOMK…

Gets Paid to Dream

22. Jan. 1996 By Alex Nuttall - Bio
...gets paid to dream

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.”

© Alexander Nuttall / OgFOMK ArTS 1996 - 2017 | 20170804 -ABN – Ed Date: 2017-08-04 10:55