Alex_Bruinekool's profile

Alex_Bruinekool avatar
AGE: 17
LOC: Bellevue, MI
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: November 20

The name is not important. I was not born Alexander Arthur Bruinekool, but merely as one more human being on this planet. All that we see as reality is nothing more than our subconscious manifesting itself in physical form, at least it seems physical to us. I am a proud member of the church of I Don’t Know. All I promote is free thought, creativity, and freedom. I don’t like school. I see it as a breeding ground for life-long indentured servants. I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me that I meet some pricks expectations of me. I don’t care about being impressive to others because I never feel a need to be. I have never believed a word that any politition has ever said and never will (including Barack Obama) I have trouble trusting any…

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Items
Version 1
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My albino friend Jarrod came over With some green weed, Some of the best I've smoked. We loaded his bowl as much As it could hold and huffed away. It had been awhile for me, So when I hit the bowl, I felt the fires of ecstacy Scorch the back of my throat. It burned like a great fuck from a mistress. The bowl was full of resin, So it tasted bad. We ate undercooked pizza, Then smoked a couple joints. Jarrod lit a ciggarette and Stood over by the window. The earlier rain had subsided And sunligh...
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Poetry / Where is it?
Version 2
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I feel like an old man Wandering aimlessly in the rain, One bad trip away from weeping, Wondering where his luck went, And where it's hiding, Walking past shaggy winos In dumpsters and makeshift tents, Wondering with scowls on their faces And lonely, dimming eyes Where their luck went, And where it's hiding. I'm staring at a blue wall. "Love will tear us apart" is the next song On my playlist. And i sit there, And I stare at the wall, Wondering where my luck is, And how it never fou...
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Version 1
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Last night I had a dream about a fantasy. I was fucking my love for the first time. Red, pink, and white hair swaying violently As my lady rode me, her thin hips Bouncing, then grinding against me.     I awoke to an odd mixture of Enlightenment and desperation. After a few seconds of soaking in this feeling, I noticed a head resting on my chest. I stroked the hair and a soft, familiar face looked up at me. "Dear, sweet Meloncholy. We meet again" I said We then made love on...
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Version 1
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Last night baby I dreamt the old dream of you Your petite frame,cushined in mine Your hair was wan ever-changing eazel Red, pink, and white Teal, black, and silver The grass is coated with fresh dew As are we, in the cornfield Your breasts rise and fall as you breath With me nibbling playfully on your neck And I feel nails latch into my bak Like a scared boy to his mother And your pink skirt rises by itself, as my hand slithers gently, slowly up your slim thigh My eyes turn up to see daybreak...
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Version 1
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It eminates a golden light It is sacred People search their whole lives for it But it cuts through your shirt Through your skin Like a hot, rusty blade     Not yet 18 I've suffered enough lashings My back bares enough scars To last most a lifetime For me, about two weeks     In the meantime I'd like to say "C'mon Jack, Give me a hit, will ya?"   I'm tired of this love I fall everytime I turn a corner For a little while, at least I want to feel sterile Numb m...
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Reviews
Poetry / Sour Cycle
Well-done poem. The very first sentence, "Life is cyclical." drew me in. I enjoyed that you used the repeating themes without making it come off forced to fit some kind of order your trying for like most repetition themed poems seem to do. You really say something with your poems and I like that.
Poetry / Old Wooden Pew
"When lost in my often wayward ways" I might take out the word often. It just reads better without it. Other than that, good job.
I might not have added the last "The gulls glide by, turning, dipping, watching." but that's not much of a problem. "The sound is both liquid and rock" That line just didn't sound right to me, maybe you should go further in describing the sound as you hear it, rather than just liquid and rock. Overall, this isn't a bad poem.