I'm a poet and a survivor. I was born in Moscow, Russia, in 1962 and have been living in the US since 1975. I have published several books of poetry and I'm widely known around the internet. I am influenced by many Russian poets, Beat poetry (Ginsberg, Corso, Ferlinghetti), Charles Bukowski, e.e. cummings, Emily Dickinson, Weldon Kees, T.S. Eliot, Robinson Jeffers, Dylan Thomas, Anne Sexton, Heinrich Heine, Bertolt Brecht, Rainer Maria Rilke, Federico Garcia Lorca, and many other poets throughout the world. I've done several translations of other poets. My poetry ranges from lyrical to satirical, to just plain crazy. I'm a big fan of Mary Prankster from Maryland who became a counterculture cult hero with her intelligent and uncensored punk lyrics. She is down to earth and loyal to her fans and never compromises her creativity just to get radio play. She brought soul and intelligence to the rebellious punk sound. One of her songs The World Is Full of Bastards has the same title as my famous poem that I published in a college magazine in 1990. I've been writing poetry since 1986. I also draw and paint. You can check out my small art gallery where I added a few works by my artistic friends.NOTE: I have great news. I have a part in a movie called American Surfrider (2006), written and directed by Carey Borth. It is a documentary about the Annual Labor Day surfing competition in Malibu in 2004 and I'm reading my poem The Healing Wind in the background. This is my big break into Hollywood. :) Here's the plot summary for the movie, written by Carey Borth:A bunch of filmmakers flew to California to document the Annual Labor Day Surfing competition in 2004 where they interviewed over 60 surfers from around the world. Meanwhile, a team interviewed surfers at Sheboygan, Wisconsin, for their annual Great Lakes surfing event. Who had higher waves? You'll be surprised. Links to Alexander Shaumyan on InternetAlexander Shaumyan: Official WebsiteMy Poetry Page at Exposweb.netMy Page at AuthorsDen.comPoetry Life and Times, September 2006Alexander Shaumyan -- a member of Artists Without FrontiersMy Poetry Page at CyberMuseMy Poetry Page at PoemHunter.comMy Poetry Page at PostPoems.comFlaming Asian InkMy Profile at Amazon.comNet Poets ListCheck out Jessica Mellott -- a talented young singer from Maryland.Some Girls Are Dumb and Shallow Some girls are dumb and shallowAnd only want to screwOr find some sugar daddyTo make their dreams come true.And they will tell you storiesOf their hard luck lives,But I don't feel compassionFor their games and lies.Some girls will build you upAnd take you for a rideOr make you lose your head,While cheating on your wife.Some girls use sex to trap youAnd make you cry in painBut I've learned my lesson--I go for heart and brains.I like them to be realAnd warm and loving too--Without phony kissesThat they'll send to you.I know it by now--I know what I miss--I miss the depth and soul--I miss a tender kiss.I miss the joy and laughterOf simply holding hands--Not phony "I love you"sAnd empty one-night stands.Some say that sex is betterThan no sex at all--But sex without loveCan really scar a soul.Some girls are dumb and shallow,Some girls are cruel and cold--But they'll end up aloneWhen they're used up and old.May 22, 2004 Copyright (c) by Alexander ShaumyanAnarchy Is For Lovers(for Natercia)They came together--red and black-- In a revolt like no other,And there is no turning back,For anarchy is for lovers.The truth is greater than the liesOf hollow gods and class divisions,For loving hearts all rules defy With a transcendent common vision.No wars, no boundaries, no states,No need to subjugate each other,No rich, no poor, no one to hate-- Just peace and love for one another.They came together--young and old-- No hippie freaks, but with a vision-- They came together in revolt Against all wars and all divisions.They saw the truth, they saw the lightIn a revolt like no other,Standing determined in their fight,For anarchy is for lovers.October 18, 2004Copyright (c) by Alexander ShaumyanCafe de NuitThe world is such a bore.I look at all the blankexpressions hereat Delaney's Tap Room,where Jake--the local artist--makes several incisionswith his knife upon his hand, letting the blooddrip onto this white bandageof cloth, wiping the bloodwith it, while I wonderwhat's the point of all this--I guess it's better thanbeing a junkie--anothernasty habit that he quit...Another guy says allmy joking about gay shitmakes him nervous,so I better keep away...The world is such a bore--these overpriced drinks,these empty conversationsabout this and thatand nothing much at all--I hear the chicken wingsare excellent here.My friend is doing crack.A few days earlier some girlwould let him eat her pussyin exchange for xanax,though he never got a blowjob.The world is such a bore.I talk to Marshall--a homelessold man, who spends hismonthly checks on boozeand cat food for his kitties,while sleeping in the graveyard.He has a temporary place to stayright now. He tells me he'sthe luckiest man in the world.Somehow I don't believe him.The world is such a bore.Here's John who came out of jailseveral months ago. He now workswith his hands, laying shingleson roofs of houses.I hear Pam is now in jail for writingphony checks, she used to fuckfor drugs and money--two hundreddollars for a full relief.Jeff highly recommends her.He says he's getting marriedto his latest girlfriend,but I doubt it--he never stayed withanyone for too long.The world is such a bore,as I stand here, observing thispool game--the only thing thatseems to matter here.Sometimes I show them my poems,but there is such a chasmbetween my visionand what's in front of me--this crazy circus of fucked-up peoplewith their fucked-up livesand fucked-up loves,these people, who are deaf and blindto anything of beauty and of meaning.I have another beer,as this endless game continues,and the jukebox playsthe same old song, the same old song...July 13, 2002Copyright (c) by Alexander ShaumyanPlace Where Light IsIn these cold rainy nights,In these streets, in these dreamsI'll walk in my solitudeTo a place where light is.Do not ask who I am,Do not ask where I go--I've lost all direction,Yet I always knew this--I'll find my way backTo a place where light is.No, it can't be that far--I've walked many miles,I've seen it in a smileOf a girl like a breeze--I'll find my way backTo a place where light is.I've been walking in darknessOf frozen minds,I saw hearts that were numbAnd eyes that were blind,I saw tears and pain,War and disease,But I just kept on walkingTo a place where light is.Yes, I know it's near,By those mulberry treesAnd those valleys of daffodils,Where the hummingbirds sing,Where my love rests in waitingWith a smile like a breeze--Yes, I'll find my way backTo a place where light is. May 23, 2003Copyright © by Alexander Shaumyan* * * * * *TouchEverything here is yellow and green. --Anne SextonYou pull me into your delicate sea,As I shiver at your touch,Now I'm a valley and you're a mountain,Now I'm dark green and you're bright yellow,You play me like an instrument, pulling my strings one by one,As I respond in a symphony of poetic madness,Crying on my pillow, I hug the empty space between us,Longing for the night when I first touched you.Love, darling, is a silent mistress, who comes streaming through my fingers in gentle tears.We have lost the softness and the tenderness of her touch,Sleeping on a bed of nails, we scream in agony of her passing.But I know that deep inside you there is a flower growing, longing for the moisture of a kiss, for the freedom of the ocean.We meet and part in its darkness, leaving a trail of tears behind us. May 31, 1987Copyright (c) by Alexander Shaumyan Beyond the Constellations of the Bearsfor CrystalOn this day of cerulean bearsThat across silent eyelashes ran,I foresee past blue waters a stirringIn the hollows of eyes--a command.--Velimir Khlebnikov (1885-1922)Beyond the constellations of the BearsI see reflections of the ancient godsAnd I can see the moon inside your hair,Feeling the music pulsing in my blood.Beyond the ruins of forgotten cities,Beyond the battlefields where myriads died,Beyond religions, wars and hollow treaties,I see the ancient wisdom in your eyes.Let daily sermons fall upon deaf ears,Let prophets come and go as they please,Let churches go on exploiting fear--The truth is the wind, the rocks, the trees--It's what I know in my heart, it's what you knowEach time I look inside your playful eyes,And when it's time for you and me to go,The truth is in our love that never dies.February 16, 1997 Copyright (c) by Alexander Shaumyan