The poetry of

Zandy Alexander


Ju ju whisper


Ju ju whisper my child

Speak softly oh currency of recklessness

Whisper to Daddy "She is a sea-bird"

Jules reclines forever on a thousand artists' walls

Goodbye my love I don't know if you're crying

The Alexandria's beckoning I know

Goodbye my love it's raining but you're smiling

And Flora says she thinks it's time to go


The chequerboards of dusk

Once you were troubled by that
world of drowsy street sounds
The toneless trauma of
occasional traffic
Night had long since daubed our
city plaza brown
And printed sleepless chequerboards of dusk
sedating and seducing
your opiated, chortling trees

You knew
by the vacant cafes and restaurants
that summer had departed
several weeks before
And by your kerb-to-kerb wanderings
and by our anxious, whispering voices
that not only you were a slave
to aimlessness this warm evening

The now game

I am an outsider
outside America
outside England
outside pepsi-cola
outside weetabix
outside music
outside Jesus
where am I
who am I
will you play my game
will you speak my language
look outside New York
look at the green hills
look at the gone hills
look at the hopeless plain
no hope for hundreds of years
people with blank faces
meanimgless lives
animal existence
under the blue sky
the wet sky
the me and you sky
the Rockerfeller sky
the Marx and Lenin sky
until you start to talk
with words they gave you
sentences they rented you
words that kill
words that drug everyone
until they take the rent for those words
until you won't pay rent for those words
and you get evicted from language
and you don't talk any more
but you still have eyes for everyone
eyes that beg
eyes that command
eyes that were always here
eyes that look out on Manhattan
eyes that meet other eyes
and you still have thoughts
thoughts that think other thoughts
and they can't evict those eyes and thoughts
even though you think you stop thinking
you close your eyes
and when you stop thinking
you're in the now
there's only one now
though lots of eyes are watching the now
and lots of thoughts are thinking the now
the now is outside
it's outside the green hills
it's outside the gone hills
it's outside America
it's outside Jesus
it's outside pepsi-cola
let's play the now game
let's play it now


Spain and the void

1969 - me and my ugly battle in the drawing -room ... with shady lighting

Conversation a red mountain-side that none ascended

And the sofa our many-coloured beast, reclining easily,

Modestly under my stare, while I listened to 'Under the boardwalk.'


In Spain somebody died, in Spain waves lapped the beach under a blue sky

Was it Spain the country or your finger on the map I wasn't sure

Was it them dying or a newspaper error ... the error of dying

The same error that I made on that wave-swept beach, in Spain


Bring me back my sofa my divan my many-coloured beast

I became very fond of personal possessions

It had soul, that sofa, it was my many-coloured beast

I used to sit on that sofa, click my fingers, and say, 'Hey, I'm high!'


1969 was a long year, but it was reversible

And the battle was ugly, now I recall : brutal as the drawing-room,

greyer than words

Thousands of people were involved, they're all in Hell now

And time's passed on - does Hell have shady lighting too?


Take red and red and red, and multiply by red

Take a red mountain-side and take my advice

I know He's planning something in this massive shifting cosmos

Modestly under my stare, while I listen to 'Under the boardwalk'


When I leave this world

When I leave this world,
I'll walk with other friends

I'll try to keep to things like now,
that's really the maternal obligation

We used to laugh at kids who worked

We used to laugh at all poets,
and all artists, including sculptors.

It was on the fourteenth floor
of the skyscraper I stopped

Pressed the green button,
hoisted my trousers.

Expected an attractive room-girl
I could seduce

Actually found the key to a little door.

It lead to a place where
apes ride donkeys

We'd say : "It's a hottish afternoon,
and finger coat-buttons

We'd think of milk and raisins
and look at mountains

My mother said a hill was
meant for climbing

I don't know but somewhere
on that inconspicuous slope

it seemed to work

And as I say this -
you turn your head and frown, saying

"Where's that tea-cup Alex,
please help me with my work

Me a woman, playing a woman's game,
never thinking of

where you go at night"


Surfing the Sixties acid web

In the 6os we were all browsers
Acid was the internet
You'd hold up a pepsi, and it looked like an animated gif
When the thoughtpolice appeared
We'd send freakmail
Bad vibes were spammed to millions
And then everyone would crash - until morning boot up
Yes we were all packet sniffers
Hash ID and toke protocol
Surfing the default brainwave
Megajolt horizon
Coding heavy metal
Burn on tune in log out
Doss on cyberstreet
Flashy mac
Windows hack attack


Harlequin by the skyscraper (dedicated to Simon Oxford)

He was a harlequin by the skyscraper
(So keep smiling, and stay in key)
She was a girl from the docks and she talked nonstop
Of that laughing harlequin, you see
He is my friend and he brought me my psychiatrist
(Keep on joking, just keep grinning at the sky)
Did I phrase that last bit just like a magician?
(Keep on singing, my chick is OK)


Into the shining

into the Church of hip-hop

blessed by swing

sanctified by funk

christened by our latin house

NOWTIME expands

with Spanish steps

the impossible ritual

the Miami flower awakes

like this I see visions

words of ancient significance

dancing like urban angels

no-one else understands

& if they did they would not enter

my arcane computerized reality

seeds of the plan divine

the resurrected groove

Miami awareness No 43

the place I choose to worship you

the random sunset & phoenix diner

the customer with reincarnation

in his head

the messages from Mars on the

musical stave

the mystic mountain of soul

the ghetto-master and his brethren

a single bird in the hand of

the marijuana God

the 10,000 visions of the

homeless man

who is divine

the pen on paper

which writes itself

the music which never stops

& the ecstatic knowledge of a man

who sees his path

into the shining


When freedom rebels

who shall sing
the song of the R train
who shall feed
the flames of the burning songs
the song of the terrorist
the hymn of the patriot
the soul of the destiny of arcania
the searching for truth
the reaffirmation of life in dark glasses
on the strange island of your previous life
where one man and his dog
lived and died for a freedom unknown to the world
where all language was rewritten at sunrise
so blind men might walk hand in hand
never knowing how many towers might fall
in the Babylon dawn
where presidents donned the emperor's cloak
and the negro bomber commander
shall press the red button weeping
giant tears of pain
who shall sing the song of cordite,
the song of napalm, the nuclear chant
who shall rewrite history language logic and thought
who will lead America
through the valley of darkness
into a future where no past can exist
no man can look another in the eyes
yet one God can strike another God down
and all shall chant his praises
when freedom rebels
and eats her own children


Face of the Lord

To move your feet, to hear the cry:
to know your name
Forgotten Moses, your cattle lowing,
the desert blooms again
You were, you are, you will be ...
and the question shouts it all
For you the whip is cracked
behind the waterfall

Perspective loosens,
so high above the ocean's lair
You're in control, you know it -
smiling, back against the chair

Cannon fires above the milky crest -
across the starlit ford
Softly seen in dreams ungiven -
the face of the Lord
Captain gives the order 'Charge',
unblemished steel is bared
Was it history or just
the neverending moment that we shared?


1 + 1 = 0

Jesus sings on Broadway
Muhammed walks into MGM
a child runs America
as the Stealths howl towards China
financed by the developing world
I’m sleeping on Planet Coca Cola
Che and Lenin run shrieking in the fun house
Castro is a cigar factory
Bin Laden is the star of the East
We are in the century of hatred
Love has ended with the millenium
We worshop a technological idol
And he makes our agenda
All politicals are jailed
And Democracy has been castrated
1 & 1 = 0
Like we always knew
All are paralysed with fear
The president is beaten in the face
Antibiotics no longer work
Pure food no longer grows
World War Three has begun
Terrorist war, Biological war, Nuclear war
Though no-one knows who the terrorist is
Wherever he is we shall hunt him down and kill him
And if we don’t find him we shall invent him
Because this is Planet Coca Cola
And in this the century of hatred
1 & 1 must always equal 0


Rain, romance and Forest Hill

Smokin' grass and thinkin' of you, dear
about the way we were last month, dear
your body naked on my bed, oh Lord
holding me tightly in this tedious present, dear

I like words like 'dear'
I like lonely bedsitters, rain, romance and Forest Hill
I like old motorbikes, mothers hints, and chords on piano


Little boy in a cowboy hat

when I was a little boy
I'd ride my horses
build my castles
never question the world
the dream of perfection
the horror and loneliness beyond my street
I had a little girl
I'd save her from villains
I'd wear a cowboy hat
America was everything
girls were nothing
there was a voice in my head
a voice like pure diamond
shining like the sun
things were really simple
I couldn't see into the world of men
but I thought they must be great
my dream of truth was strong
I never lied and I never expected lies
later I was destroyed
by women, money and untruthfulness
I thought it was good to be bad
easy to be hard
my marriage collapsed
I lost all my money
I wandered for years in Italy alone
the little boy returned
I saw the child inside other men
I saw men lose their child
and women too
I sang with a voice that wasn't mine
I followed my child to America
the voice in my head became many
very excited in many different personas
now the original voice was lost in all this confusion
I knew that I no longer knew who I was
I lost my little girl
and I lost my cowboy hat
the voices in America were
all building sandcastles
not real castles
none of the voices were like diamonds
and horror and loneliness were on every street
even my own
now I'm an old man
but I've got my cowboy hat back
and I've got my little girl again
but I've lost my dream
my little-boy dream of perfection
and I don't think the world of men is great
and my voices are all fading fast
and I think America is nothing
and I'll keep searching for that voice
that voice of pure diamond
shining like the sun
I'll search down every street
every street in America
every street of horror and loneliness
with my little boy
and his horses and castles
and his cowboy hat

Dance harlequin dance

Arriving in Dublin clean-shaven
I see angels
Leaving with a beard I'm surrounded by demons
On the boat I see a dark-haired
Irish girl
Tossing her hair and shaking her limbs
she is the harlequin
I fly into a daze ...
When a man & a woman make love
he is the devil searching for the key
the key to unlock the harlequin
when he finds it
she flies into a frenzy
arms and legs flailing in clockwork time
then years later
she controls him totally
guiding him along a path of misery
I'm leaving Ireland
An Irish poet told me to write in
stanza and meter
But I won't trade freedom for his golden cage
With my new beard the world becomes a jail
All men are caged
& they have thrown away the key
the key to the Irish harlequins
All women are harlequins
We are only a dance
A dance of sex
A dance of power
& our dance steps were written long ago
By Celtic Gods
somewhere in the Donegal hills
The gay poet laughs
His laughter is a signature
Outlining the Donegal glens
We are friends of timelessness
Dance Harlequin dance
Dance in chains
Dance through stanza after hopeless stanza



dinnerburger stompgoggler
mutant Triton robot clone on
fornicating voltsklein in hellsville
troublestomper bootwrangler
horrorgoth teddydrug
chronic geekcoffin nerdstein
digigas hardriven virus gang-blocks
nerdlove hermotool monolife
dossvamp plastibreast grognews
dronecop motherpack
dirtorama punchbrain dragmobile
vomitkids cementballs sexmind
corpocrunch cancerlove sundrain
famegasp girlsweat shitfrizzy baberap
saxprezzy empireblast taligod sinofucked
supercrap worldump bucktalk alldead