lungpipe shanty

that one with the punched lungs
has taught me to breathe freely
to expand in every moment
my view beyond the horizon
has taught me to get drunk on air
raise a toast to the blissful life
uncork & exhale my dreams
& inhale all possibilities

that one with the punched lungs
has taught me not to hie away
from each rum quaff of oxygen
each gulp, each gasp, could be the last
has taught me to square my shoulders
wear my sailor’s crown on high
walk the plank with a shambler’s jaunt
use my voice with ne’er a grumble

that one with the punched lungs
has taught me to sing shanties
to marinate beneath the stars
away from landlocked bores
has taught me to stand before storms
to know my place within them all
when even acid rain stings my lungs
when even the mast punches my lungs

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

Tumblevision #34

Glom the babe, babe.

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

short shot

in the grand scheme of things
his tears meant nothing at all
that’s why he piled them up
& cast silver bullets
well, they weren’t really silver
but he at least could pretend
he just needed a pistol
so he lined up his crutches
(which weren’t really a firearm
at least he could pretend)
but then came the police
more trigger happy than he
in the grand scheme of things
his death meant nothing at all

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

déjà vudu

all the skeleta dansing
dansing in their skin shells again
in a world burning to the ground
stubbing their durry minds in
that ash bowl of hell they once called eden

would that you’d been a part of this
or would you have, given such souls
them resolute that turned their backs
on curiosity & knowing

three cheers to the danse
the pleasing aroma of reason charring
to the snuff of nothing above the clouds

all the skeleta dansing
a descent into backwards heights
the danse of flurried minds tonight
we’ll exist should they allow it
but don’t hold your breath

their masks full with empty fool heads
all hail the bliss of dullening
to themselves be the glory
to mine own the lost othered story

three cheers to the danse
the macabre aroma of reason charring
good that you’d not been part of this

in a garden of dimming lights & lost delights
how do they not concede the signs
all pointing away from their vaunted heaven
now, one more time

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

rainy night hootenanny

ev’ry moon became a witness
to deeds enacted in darkness
ev’ry tree became a bare cross
o’er graves bloated with stolen breath

ev’ry victim rattled their bones
clawed through clod & stony pendence
ev’ry perpetrator did quake
at the purging wails of black lungs

tears & fears & feeling dread
moons & junes & severed heads
joni mitchell lightly treads
‘twixt chaos & justice fed

ev’ry wednesday became friday
ev’ry weekend one more party
ev’ry hangover a new drill
ev’ry riot a revelry

beers & cheers, tyranny shed
chooms & rooms with wine & bread
& joni mitchell lightly treads
‘twixt it all, her muse must be fed

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024