I am a poet who has both been published and self published. All work on this blog is all copyright Alex Ness. While I make very little money from my work I am technically a professional. Measuring by the hours I've written I am professional. My goal is to share my work with as many people that can read it, as far as the internet may reach with it. I hope if you are moved you will share this blog with others, and perhaps buy my books.

Whatever the result, thank you for viewing this blog. I cannot express how greatly I appreciate the many people, from many places upon the earth, who have visited.

I bid you peace.

Je ne regrette pas la douleur, il a m'a rendu plus fort.

Tuesday, November 25, 2014


Taken from the mist
Shaken from the dead
Awakened within 
The eternal dialogue
Lost while amazed 
Yet we walk
Our flesh is dying
Terminus has arrived
Quietus we stand
Undying but yet

Voluntarily entering
The Island of the Dead
Shall we then be free
Of those who damn
From the judgment
Of the pointing hands
And into the arms
Of eternity 

Lord Krishna speaking in the Bhagavad Gita

"You grieve for those who should not be grieved for;
yet you speak wise words.
Neither for the dead nor those not dead do the wise grieve.
Never was there a time when I did not exist
nor you nor these lords of men.
Neither will there be a time when we shall not exist;
we all exist from now on.
As the soul experiences in this body
childhood, youth, and old age,
so also it acquires another body;
the sage in this is not deluded."

Monday, November 24, 2014

United For Our Land

Shall we dance
Across this land
With the minefields
And razor wire
Through the bombs
And the machine guns
Shall we sing
For freedom
When there is nothing
Beyond our hopes
That we can see
Although the enemy
Is mighty
Although his forces
Are strong
We will fight for our land
To counter with right
All that is wrong
Slava Ukrayini! 
Heroyam slava!

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Upon Avalon's Pristine Shore

I was appointed to guard him
His flesh was different
He was the king
My ship rode upon the stream
Of dreams of the king of Albion
And was lost when he was taken
Closed his eyes to sleep
Upon the bosom of Avalon
So violently parted this plane
With final combat with his bastard
Mordred and Arthur joined
Blood mixing by spear and thrust
First by sword the child
Excalibur ending one life
Mordred's Spear ending the life
Of an immortal being
How can the undying die?
I cannot take any more
My heart is broken
How can the keeper of the flame
Be taken away
The red dragon banner
Coiled in sorrow
Swords thrust into the grounds
In shame
For the loss
Gutted to the core
Arthur king of the Britons
And all of Camelot
Return to us
Or I will die laying
Upon Avalon's
Pristine Shore
Until you do

Saturday, November 22, 2014

Prayers for this Flesh

My father, maker of my dreams
My mother, feeder of my flesh
Give to me my hope
Give unto me my talents
Or cast me to the sea
Let me be able or be free
Let me be dead or able
To draw a freeman's breath
Free me from your chains
Of memory
And of design
Free me from your harness
Holding my tongue
Holding me from standing
To ever raise my arms
To praise the divine
Let me know I am worthy
Of love inside
Not just for obedience

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Not enough love

When I saw her finally walk in
I lit up in joy
My body was electric
My mood afire
That ended quickly
She looked away
When I did catch her glance
She looked at me
With neither love nor sadness
In her eyes
Only resignation
She used to say she loved me
And now I see
She says it no longer
She doesn't say anything
And her look seems
To reveal shame
Did she want my castration?
It wasn't just frustration?
It was something worse than sadness
A grieving for something
That never was
An aborted love
That never had a chance
For her expectations were so much greater
Than anything I could give her
She wanted a mansion
And my love and being
Could only provide completeness

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

The Hiatus is over. Thank you.

The Hiatus I had announced is over.  It hurt me more to not write than to give me rest by it.

I have a couple bad situations healthwise, and they are going to be in someways possibly worse than what I was fighting with the cancer.  We'll see.

And now, back to more poetry.


In the meantime, I want to just thank some people who deserve thanks.

G.D. Pass
Joe Frietze
Gina Wood
Donny Krosch
Marsha Nelson
Peter Urkowitz

And especial thanks to my best friend Russ Stewart.  Over the years we've grown closer and he was always my closest friend.   This is true but even to the point that I think we respect and admire the other to the point that we prefer to understand the other rather than debate issues.

Some of my readers tell me they love when I share pics of my life, whether it be my son, wife, or cats.  So, here are two pics, my beloveds Katya laying in the sun and Sophie hiding under a nylon folding tent.

My son, my glorious boy of 15 years of age took the photos.  He has a professional eye, and an artist's heart.


I will soon announce a new site for some of my works, but it will be a slow growth, nothing huge to begin with.  I am not able at least at the moment to drop daily columns anywhere, even should I have ever been paid.  But here is a look at the header of it.


Someone told me I should quit writing since I make no money doing so.  And, it is true I make no money.  Or, very little money.  But if we use how much money a creative writer makes in his or her lifetime as a guide, few of them would be deemed worthy.  Now, having said that, I am not worthy of being considered in the same breath as Emily Dickinson or Edgar Allan Poe or any number of great writers who made no money.  Yes, if you enjoy pointing this out, I am obscure, I am talentless compared to the greats.  Whatever you wish to say, go for it, it doesn't bother me.  However, it does further make my point.  If these wonderfully talented geniuses of the field never made enough money, how could a schmuck like me make any money.

Another person asked for review copies of my works so they could review them.  They said reviews help sales.  I gave out 20 review copies of Lancelot.  I received 2 reviews from that.  I received less than 20 dollars for the entire payment for the work.  I worked many hours, perhaps under 500 hours, counting the revisions, interviews and promotions.  I resist saying I made no money, but honestly, if you consider what compensation I received for 2 reviews for 20 copies... it was not a case of reviews helping sales.  Sales did not occur.  Now, it is possible something happened where I was not paid for actual sales, if the publisher was hiding sales, but I choose to believe she was honorable. In the end, with my self publishing empire, ha, sending review copies out doesn't feel like it works.  It might, it might work, but, I haven't seen it happen.

Since my Cthulhu book was published I have received a lot of emails from writers and artists asking to write and illustrate the next one with me as in doing it as an anthology.  I confess, I am not sure where it is going to go, because of my having the chemo brain.  I am less assured than I have ever been due to that issue.  This isn't however saying no.  But, whereas Curse of the Cthulhu Spawn was a series of "found documents' ala journal entries, poems and prose, I think my next book will be on story, illustrated by perhaps one artist.  I think amongst other things, I might choose to do a series of pen and ink b/w paintings myself.   And, I think I might consider ending my creative life with that work.  I've tried my best, and I am exhausted, I've made no money, and I have people who have said, I hate you.  At least when all I did was interview people and read and review stuff people tended to like me, except for the snarky assholes like Ed Cunard and his ilk.  But Ed did his thing, and I did mine.

Monday, November 10, 2014

A Defender

Not because I enjoy battle
But because I have given my life
Not to fulfill a vainglorious fate
But that I have made a choice
I am a human being
Yet I have become greater
Because I am sworn
A defender of the faith
I will continue fighting
Until I am broken
Without relent
And I will keep fighting
Without allies or armor
My fate does not matter
My body is not a vessel
It is neither permanent
Nor is it powerful
But it is able,
It is determined
My flesh some day will pass
It is temporal
But until then
It will continue the fight
Until no blood pours out
Until my heart stops
Until my breathing ends
Because my soul exists
In a place far from this
Because I am sworn
My task had begun
Long before my first act
Whether building bridges
Caring for the wounded
Feeding the poor
Defending the weak
By accepting my oath
My life had already been given
My soul had already ascended
It is this body made of flesh
Animated by some divine

Thursday, October 30, 2014

A Darkness Harvest of our Hearts,

Plague of sorrows
Harvest me
In a field of misery
Grieving the passing
Of the youth
From the land
Elders crawl and beg
And no one is willing
And no one knows why
We stare into the sun
Growing more blind
By the hour
The harvest begun
The draining
Of love
Conquest of our hearts
The darkness
Shall never
I pray this is a dreaming
But I am not sleeping
It is a nightmare
But I am awake
So let this be
Let my end
Be now
I am ready to take
The final curtain bow
For the waiting
The lack of passion
For the end
Many are dead
Despite being labeled
Still alive
I am ready
I am willing
Take me
My arms are spread
Open wide

Wednesday, October 29, 2014


Before I was old
A very long time ago
I was surprised to find
That no one cared about
Things that moved my mind
Let alone my heart and soul
That was when I was young
Encounters with others
Caused me to bleed
This callous world
Drew from me
My being

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

My Love, Our Love is Our Moment

I didn't choose you
Love chose us
My heart told me
Who you were
Mon coeur est à toi
Toujours et à jamais
I love you my flame
You've been my love
Since the moment
Had begun
The moment
Became our lifetime
And when I am lost
I call your name
For you are my home
And without you
I am undone

 “Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart and the senses.”Lao Tzu

Monday, October 27, 2014

On High

I was never given wings
So I thought I couldn't fly
But the moment you loved me
I grew wings
I knew I was able
I soared
I was lifted upon the winds
On high
Skyward bound
I climbed like a rocket
No one ever, ever
Gave me such strength
To soar, not even to fly
Breaking the bonds
Of my imprisonment
Of my solitude
Of gravity
You gave me this freedom
These wings
With these wings, upon the winds
I ascended the highest heights
Ripping a hole
In the sky

Photo Source

Saturday, October 25, 2014

The Final Night

I have stood nude to the world
I have been alone in the cold
I have been born worse than dead
For knowing the meaning
Of what is not to be known
The mysteries surrounding me
Are no mystery to me
The world is going to pass
I have still kept true
Because of what I know
This world is cursed
It will live only temporarily
My flesh will pass unto dust
My memories will disappear
My soul will flee the decay
As my body is laid
Into the cemetery
In God I will trust
Even as temptations near
I will not stop to delay
But the end beckons
And my chest grows tight
The few breaths I have left
Will be the harvest
Of the final night