Articles written by Alistair Halifax

How To Guides |
Community

About me - Alistair Halifax

i am painfully human.

+ more bio information

RSS Feed

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Youth: 6 of 56

Sixteen-going-on-Seventeen. The age of non- consent and nonchalance, Of which a society is formed upon the laws of hips and pubic hair, Where clothes hang out to dry on tanlines, sloping invitations, An Underground under the influence of street lamps in the ubiquitous Summer Evening, Between the jagged spikes in our parent- ...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: About friendship: 38 of 276

Suzanne - Enjoy the book and enjoy the trip. Call frequently - assure and reassure me that you're okay, but not okay enough to bring nothing back to laugh about. We need our Oh Shits to survive this cruel world. Even if it's a short trip, you deserve the escape. For once. So you're gone and Paul's gone and what's left is a w...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: One of these days: 5 of 32

i sat for hours watching black velvet spiders tiptoe through dust. Ask me why, but it's stupid: i'm lonely and i miss the soot and grime. i miss the mud. - These days it's all white with padded helmets. i remember quite clearly, the day silly things became unsafe. They took away my doll and replaced her with a clean- cut boy...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: What could have been: 42 of 55

Let's drink to- night and make up wild stories and desecrate both the French and English languages simultaneously by sticking "le"s incorrectly in front of verbs. For in- stance: "you've had too much to le drink," or: "why don't we le go back to my place?" Let's regret it to- morrow, all the "le"s we never said, we never did...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Prisoner of the world: 95 of 121

The year comes to an end and all is still undone; no great changes made by me or by the masses of apathy encrusted on the office chairs, whose heads once brilliant fill with air, and their bodies, with fat, and their hands, with cash seized by those who had none to spare. Among my peers i see the same alacritous hands in bri...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Life's journey: 247 of 290

There were two of us there both starving gypsy radicals, self-loathing, cynical and scared-as-hell, experimental drop-outs lined up legs crossed hands folded in on a bench, waiting for some bus to take us somewhere. Somewhere else. Ain't nothing here but coldsweats and Christmas cards and our favorite baseball team that neve...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Notebooks: 61 of 63

You're therapeutic, diary, And you cost much less per session Than my shrink does each week. And I don't have to call in advance To tell you I'm sick, Or just not in the mood; And there's nothing holding me back. Today, diary, I did nothing; In fact, it felt nice to let Burden Slip off the my shoulders With the suit and the ...
Creative Writing > Memoirs Memoirs: Escape: 8 of 8

Summer was a series of sexual exploits. I was in love with a boy, involved with a girl, and as some unconscious revenge I would have my way with whomever. Because I hated them both. Some parts are hazy, but I remember one particular drive. I remember the intense feeling of being under the influence of street lamps while i mo...