Everyday: The Poet

Hi, poetry pals!

Since you read the title of this post and have just read my hello, you know what is to be expected out of the words to come; more poetry from Caleb Alexander.


I usually don’t give a proper introduction to Caleb’s pieces, but we both talked it over, and we feel like it’s necessary to give you a bit of information before you start to read. where can i buy phenergan online First of all, this poem is really heavy, so please please please bare that in mind before you start reading, if you aren’t up for feeling a bit sad or at least being confronted with the feeling of sadness maybe you shouldn’t read this one today. alli orlistat online Second, if you grew up in upstate SC the topics mentioned might hit a little too close to home. This poem mentions some well known deaths/problem situations from our area, but it was necessary to speak on. At least in my eyes. Third, please take everything said in this poem with a grain of salt. Remember poetry can mean many different things to many different people, so maybe the words you’re reading don’t mean what you think they mean. Think about things in a few different perspectives.  Forth, Caleb and I both know that each of us, as content creators, are taking a huge risk with him writing this piece and me publishing it for him simply because of what is mentioned and how it’s mentioned. If you have ANY questions, problems, comments, concerns, or anything else to say about this poem PLEASE WITHOUT HESITATION CONTACT EITHER CALEB OR I, and we will be more than happy to speak with you on the topics, answer your questions, and address any concerns or problems you have with the piece. His contact information  will be linked at the end of this post, and mine is always at the contact bar at the top of my webpage along with at the bottom.  Finally, I really sincerely hope you enjoy this piece of art from Caleb Alexander. Read it once, let it sit, read it again, and again and again. There are so many points in this poem, and so many things to speak about. My mouth fell after the fourth sentence because I knew what was coming, but I couldn’t pick my jaw up again until I finished the poem and let it sink in. Ironically all I could find myself saying throughout the whole piece was “Oh my God.”

Without further ado…

The Water Cycle Sometimes Ends Up In My Household Tap
“You told me drowning was like going home.” “I lied, they said it was like hell.” –The Prestige
I’ve scaled a few waterfalls in my day. The “possible death” signs always seemed so overdramatic. Until the day you fell.
I didn’t really know you. Some of my students did. You were a godly man, teaching the youth about God, telling them God was their homie… or something like that.
Your father was refereeing a middle school football game that I was on the sidelines of. The police pulled him off the field to tell him the bad news. I heard him say “Oh my God.”
One of my students argued with me the next day about free-will. He died about a year ago in some fraternity hazing gone awry. I really don’t know if that was always going to happen or not. If it was an inevitable link in a chain, or an unfortunate accident in the moment.
There are some quantam theories that every decision we make spurs an alternate reality. So there are these countless realities in which you wore blue socks instead of grey, or ate Wheaties instead of Cheerios. That means in some of those realities you’re still alive.
The most terrifying thing about alternate realities is the idea of “quantam immortality”. It basically theorizes that your consciousness continues on in other realities exactly like this one except for that you’re still alive. So if a car crash happened, you would jump to the reality that you survived in. I don’t really know how it works when you get old; maybe you jump to a reality where they’ve cured any disease that might take you out. Why is this terrifying? Because I’ve seen people die. Maybe their consciousness is still going on somewhere, and they are oblivious that all of us think they are dead. Maybe every single day I die and leave copies of my parents, girlfriend, friends in horrible pain. And ultimately my timeline is going to end up with me out surviving everyone. Everyone’s timeline is.
Another student of yours and mine fell out of his chair one morning after intentionally taking too much cough syrup. All he could say, with his eyes looking past my face into some other reality was, “oh my God.”
I woke up startled one morning at 5 am by a loud bang. I thought it was thunder. I waited for a few moments to hear the reoccurrence. I brushed it off and went to sleep.
My father used to tell me you count the number of seconds between a clap of thunder and flash of lightning and that’s how many miles the storm is away.
30 minutes after I heard the clap of thunder, I found the storm was right on top of me. I walked out the back door to go to my car. The gate was standing open, the gate that houses my dogs in the summer when the weather is still nice enough for them to stay outside.. One dog came running up to me, but I couldn’t find my Great Dane. My buddy. The one I got when he was 6 weeks old, while I was still in undergrad.
There may be a universe where we are still a big family, and a universe where we never were at all. I said repeatedly to no one, “oh my God”.
I buried him in my grandmother’s backyard because that place is permanent. It was rushed because it was raining. I couldn’t help but think about Spongebob. There’s an episode where they are burying a guy they think is dead in the rain, and he slides down the hill in the mud because they don’t bury him deep enough (yeah, a kid’s cartoon, the guy is fine, he’s not really dead, just buried alive for second). I dug deeper than was reasonably necessary.
My sister’s boyfriend of the week helped me. I think he loved her. Poor sap.
The news story never called it a hazing incident. Some fraternity brothers went on a midnight walk. He ended up dead trying to jump a gap on a bridge. The same fraternity brothers waited 12 hours to report him missing. They told his girlfriend he was studying in the library. They are all still active students at Clemson University.
I hated him until he died. His fraternity is known for “roofies.” He was a bigot. I can’t say I much like him now, but I hate that he died. I hope they dug his grave deep enough. His mother cried out “oh my God” at the wake.
Last summer I stood under a waterfall. I slipped a few times getting directly underneath it because of the smoothness of the rocks and the amount of beers I had consumed. This resulted in a few bruises, but that’s okay. I finally got there and had the water beating down on top of my head. It’s quite heavy. Water. You never realize it until moments like that. The mountain stream was cold and refreshing. It felt like baptism. It felt like universes stacked on top of themselves. It felt like irony. It felt like mirrors on gravestones. It felt like drowning. It felt like “oh my God”.

Well guys, that’s all I have for today.

I know we usually do more then one poem, but since this one was so heavily emotional and so strong I felt like it was best on its own. Like mentioned before please feel free to contact either one of us if you want to talk about the writing or if you have any other questions, comments, or concerns. I hope you enjoyed this poem as much as I did and I hope there was a lot for you to get out of this. Like always thank you so much for reading and continuing to visit my site. Make sure to follow Caleb and I on social media to stay up to date with everything we are doing!

Much love,


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5 thoughts on “Everyday: The Poet

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