by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020
Author Archives: Tony Single
Cracker-barrel Philosophy (Postcard Set #1)
Open-Source Poetry Five #4 (The Last Gasp)
Dear Readers,
It seems that our belief in Santa is fading away…
We put our all into the poem we dedicated to him. We did our absolute best. We also behaved. Tony hasn’t picked his nose for a whole year, and Tati hasn’t… well, let’s not get into that here.
The point is, we went all out for this overweight ho-ho deer torturer! What a sack of crap!
Seriously, what did we get in return?
An auto-reply from someone that even our mailbox can’t bring itself to believe in. An ‘unverified sender’ no less! Hm… Perhaps we need to take the hint?
But no. Hell, no! This shall not mean that our belief in miracles is fading away. We are soppy romantics, god damn it! And no corpulent, bearded no-show is going to take that from us.
That’s why Tati—in her icy cold homeland of Ukraine—finds a bottle opener made from kangaroo balls in her Christmas sock. And Tony—in his blisteringly hot homeland of Australia—finds in his sock a tiny bottle of horilka and a half eaten salo burger. Because someone has to do this job, even if Santa fails.
Someone has to protect our belief in miracles.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA, TONY SINGLE & SONOFDEWANGAN
© All rights reserved 2020
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PERFECTION IN ACTION // Pneuma
The North Wind whispered to the Great Southern Plain, “Let’s breathe until we are no more.”
“Sure, sweetie.” The Great Southern Plain opened wide and breathed the North Wind in… deep and slow.
With the roar of many voices the Falls of the East disgorged over the omphalos of the Great Southern Plain. And the Western Chines straightened its stone shoulders, bristling, thrusting its spiky, serrated nipples at them.
“It’s okay, sugar,” sighed the Great Southern Plain invitingly. “You can breathe with us.”
So they hugged together and they breathed together until they were no more.
And then Morning came.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020
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yggdrasil’s dream
at world’s end hung the bearded axe of doom
waiting to hew from all trees their ravens
i hugged to myself as if this would protect
teeny in my chest such tremulous clot
but still it was a seedling at my core
but still the stramash was hard to ignore
through arch at twig’s end i quailed to see
yond the chaos and atom of dark design
clung did ravens to my denuded branches
with talons adamantine and whetted
but still there was the theurgy of fate
but still fear uprooted to axe’s dictate
when will for always intersect with my growth rings
or will i weaken at the root and fall to ruin
dare this seedling float on the eddies of wind
or from cradle to grave grow through rain and pain
but still brute divines have smote me
but still to the sun as new tree i devote me
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020
unbolt me 