Go, stalk the red deer o’er the heather,
Ride, follow the fox if you can!
But, for pleasure and profit together,
Allow me the hunting of Man,
The chase of the Human, the search for the Soul
To its ruin, the hunting of Man.
by RUDYARD KIPLING (1865-1936)
Public Domain Poetry
there’s nothing left to see
in that vale of vile fenestration
there’s nothing left to say
we did you once
we’ll do you twice
only you are to blame
the hearty molestations
of our collective indifference
are the consequence
of your consent
you dare to lift reproachful eyes
against us
you put your fist in the mouth of truth
hoping to silence us forever
but what is truth
apart from what we say
had you have known better
that hope is a curse
a curse of diminished returns
then would you have demanded
we to add a braille of tears
to your perforated skin
no, we’ll stab you again & again
& again with joyful contempt
crying bitch
you looked up to us, fool
as well you should
until our sun & stars finally stole your sight
truly, what are you doing here
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025
tati says it’s time to replace
‘spanish shame’ with ‘american shame’
or, more accurately, ‘maga’—
‘moscow agent grifting america’
are you happy, fat elephants
rolling out the red carpet
for this political circus
this baked alaska of fascism
tony says it’s time to get real
the butchers of bucha want more
putin-khulyo & thin-skin trump
a shit lord stroll between the bodies
ahem, pechenegs & polovtsy
you say ukraine’s a fake country
lenin invented it, so—
‘we will kill & trade land, a peace deal’
ukraine’s not perfect, we won’t argue
but let us exist on our own
without your pallid botox cheeks
& edema legs, you fucking cowboys
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025
they spake from on high
& answered questions
you never even asked
they spat from on high
& they did not care
that you were bareheaded
they were three in one
a shining countenance
that burned away all souls
like an atomic bomb
to the right of them
a grinning glad lad
that entangled all minds
like a poison ivy
to the left of them
a scowling bag hag
that finagled all eyes
in a barbwire birdcage
they ruminated & belched
their stale truths & false faiths
rolled reality with cud
& so they clawed from low down
demanded their pound of flesh
to marinate in shame
& roast in atomic fire
seasoned with poison ivy
but when all was said & done
it proved a lot easier
to arise from your deep recliner
press a button, shut off the feed
you chose to kill television
& another life was saved today
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024
unbolt me 