Sometimes I think that I must live without
My ears.
The slops of words just flow into this downspout.
Sometimes I dream that I must live without
My eyes.
The loathsome things just settle on this hangout.
My nose, mouth… The ineffective stuff.
My fingers would be quite enough
For my escape from this dull jail.
God bless you, monsieur Louis Braille!
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014
…One beautiful day you can find out that you are a blind and deaf dumbhead. It will be a quite degrading discovery, won’t it? OK! You should grieve about your underestimated and mistreated personality for five or six minutes. Don’t do this longer than six minutes! You must appreciate your time!
After that you can start an uprising. You should become a creep. You should put a happy mask on your face. You should look like a ‘Puttin’ on the Ritz’ man. By the way, if you will start to screw with perverts it will really be useful for your rehab…
Don’t think about the opinion of others and don’t forget the handcuff keys at a party! It is very important! Just do it…
Over time you may notice that you aren’t a creep and that you have a happy face under your happy mask. You can forget your old mask at a party one beautiful day… but don’t forget the handcuff keys!
Congratulations!
Your rehabilitation is over. Now you are just a happy weirdo.
And fuck all the world!
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014
A night builds own imperium.
A shadow steals my soul.
If my life is aimless delirium
Then death is a worthy goal.
An open window. Like drops of milk
These clouds in anthracite sky.
I finished a verse. I uncurtained silk.
I stepped on the sill. Good bye…
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014
‘I fear to walk in the cemetery’, the first voice said unexpectedly.
‘But I like this!’ the second voice answered.
I turn. The room is empty. Only my old ATT-8509 is snapping. (Of course, I require a new model but I prefer the good old things.) Hmmm… As always, the voices tend to vanish and do not respond in their own words… The happy voices! They have a choice. I do not have it because a cemetery is part of me. No! Because I am part of a cemetery… Hell! Bloody pragmatics! I cannot find an apt definition!
Every morning I walk along the alley with the tombstones into my new day. Every evening I stand near my graves. Near my own graves. I like to reread my favorite and funny epitaphs.
‘She was crying when somebody was telling insults to her.’
‘She was wasting an immense amount of effort for the sake of awkward attempts to be good for all.’
‘She was practicing self-loathing and was considering this a right thing.’
My poor girls… My dear graves… Fortunately, now I do not have a lot of worries with them. But I am cleaning my shovel and peering inside myself every day. I am keeping my ideal death order.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014
I wait here alone
Cursed without sleep
In my fragile vanilla tower —
Off-white, yellowed with age
Made up of cross sections
Of mainly manly long bones
Thin little discs
My palace, my keeps
My Honeycomb Catacombs
Wafers, not for consumption
Articulated — in kind
With precious cabochon gemstones
Emeralds and Peridots of Olivine Greens
Queens envying
The nine lives of Tiger’s Eyes.
I wait here lonesome
Accursed with sleeplessness
But for the birds —
Crimson canaries
Made red by a parting sea
Fly in skein and swain
Speed, the likes I’ve never seen
The blur of Autumn Reds leave a trail
Vermillion swish with a tail
Scarlet whoosh of wind
Ruffling the chimes of ivory
Humanity’s wind chimes of teeth
Gentle ivory chatter floats on the breeze
Behind by the flight, of crimson canaries.
I wait here alone
Cursed without sleep
All that is heard
In my silent world
Teeth softly speaking
Agile words once left unspoken
Grace the halls, grace the walls
Secrets to my keeps
Released, by the whispering ivory
To a privileged ear
Untold confessions unfold
Not so far, but near
A lovely chimed chant to hear.
I wait here lonesome
Accursed with sleeplessness
As Day retreats
Dusk turns to Dark
In my world of Threes
An unholy trinity — a trilogy
Amber to lavender
Lavender to a violet gray night
Candles of fat and marrow
Burn throughout the night
While Morpheus greets
My little quilled crimson canaries
Jealous, suffering from a constant wake
All is quiet, all is in a hushed state.
I wait here alone
Cursed without sleep
Silence is fleeting —
Lit wicks shadow-cast
Prance the dance of Seven Veils
Flames shimmer and flicker
To a snake charming flute
Hypnotize and mesmerize
These watchful eyes
Until the dawn arrives with Eos
Waking my crimson canaries
She swings open Heaven’s Gates
Releasing a golden amber sunrise
A Passing Passion bright
Silhouettes of lace
Rays of light fill my keeps
Beautiful champagne streamers
Crawl through holes in honeycomb
Where catacombs sleep and weep.
I wait here lonesome
Accursed with sleeplessness
To repeat, to repeat —
Full circle, no prey, no pray
No need for it’s perfectly clear
As I’m cursed to wait here
In my vanilla tower
Wafers of honeycomb
Crimson canaries
Softly speaking teeth
Amber sunrises
Lavender afternoons
Dancing flames of the violet gray nights
Waiting behind the Seven Gates
What more could I want —
While waiting alone and awake?
by FIELD OF THORNS
© All rights reserved 2014
unbolt me 