You can find TROTTERSVILLE #1 here > Ba Dum Tish!
by TONY SINGLE & TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2024
Author Archives: Tony Single
life, death & rollick
maybe we can all be pretty
& live our lives in sumptuous sin
the world’s troubles all so petty
ain’t worth a wrinkle on our smooth skin
futility is the language of
those who damn themselves
let’s make sprees & merry whoopees
over the slough of despond
& even when old age outruns us
ageless wonder inside shall bloom
we’ll indulge in all the fun and fuss
ignore that tired-from-waiting tomb
futility is the language of
those who damn themselves
let’s make sprees & merry whoopees
over the slough of despond
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024
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TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Why I Voted the Socialist Ticket by Vachel Lindsay
I am unjust, but I can strive for justice.
My life’s unkind, but I can vote for kindness.
I, the unloving, say life should be lovely.
I, that am blind, cry out against my blindness.
Man is a curious brute – he pets his fancies –
Fighting mankind, to win sweet luxury.
So he will be, tho’ law be clear as crystal,
Tho’ all men plan to live in harmony.
Come, let us vote against our human nature,
Crying to God in all the polling places
To heal our everlasting sinfulness
And make us sages with transfigured faces.
by VACHEL LINDSAY (1879-1931)
Public Domain Poetry
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balbal (the deflowered stone)
the dawning of solace
it feels like a pauper’s dream
adrift atween the peaks of myth
adrift atween
& baba yaga looks upon them
jawline set against the sky
cliché & lies brand her the monster
cliché & lies
lost to the claggy mountains
sundered kurgan & knelled tree
old memories traced to stone
& moss her fertile crown
fumbled by affrighted hands
her former name lays in ruin
cook & eat them bantling heads
cook & eat them
how did it all go to pieces
baba embraces the silent scream
she cannot be peculiar plain
she cannot be
lost to the claggy mountains
sundered kurgan & knelled tree
old memories traced to stone
& moss her fertile crown
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024
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vista obscura
why are they vanishing?
to where are they going?
amid yews and larches
squeezing out wet moss
the foxes looking on
are wondering too
beady eyes and pointy noses
sniffing out of dense fog
following faintest trails
before they too disappear
and only a silver cobweb
left shivering on its twigs
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023
