OK… a leper supports a leper.
Salt is salt and pepper is pepper.
Nobody argues with fever or grippe.
Why can’t we forgive any casual slip?
Nobody is perfect. Nobody is ideal.
We should be liberal. We should be genteel.
We all are infected by Virus of Writing.
We should be friends… why are we fighting?
P.S. I open the new category ‘Guest Posts’.
Welcome, my dear incurable friends! Just write me!
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014
I hated sitting on nannies’ knees at my kindergarten. Unfortunately, they just adored to paw at me and fondle me with their fat hands. So, I was forced to play on the defensive. And the fact that the attack is the best defense, I knew too…
‘What do you want to be when you grow up, baby?’
‘A forensic expert. Like my father…’ I was saying always and clapping with my big blue eyes…
I was climbing down from their knees by myself. And I knew that I would be free until the end of the day. I would not be caught and be tortured by stupid questions and milk porridge. After this I was hiding under the table.
I was taking ‘Gray’s Anatomy’ and was scanning pictures. Yes… The truth is a very effective tool… This was one of the first rules I learned.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014
To be talented is not a simple way.
You must prove your endowments every day.
You want to sleep… You need a little idle…
Nobody cares. All crave you, fucking IDOL!
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014
A true poem shouldn’t be read aloud.
It should be born in a low-priced inn,
It should be written on a paper napkin,
It should be crumpled and straightway
It should be burned in the ashtray…
A true poem shouldn’t be read aloud.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014
…It was an ordinary day. It was an ordinary day except for one fact. It was the day when I became unindentured. I became unrigged.
I started my daily morning ceremony with a special pleasure. It is just beautiful to do some boring and routine things before the most important action in your life. I put a derby on fire. I gargled my gullet. I threw out a pesky gnome from my kitchen through the door. After a minute he climbed up into the window… My perfect morning ceremony! I will miss this! But I must do this spurt. I must leave this purgatory. It was not ambivalent feelings. It was the pure and clear realization of truth. I must go.
I went down to the hall. I greeted madam Sienna, a seamstress in our parish. She is a good and very kind woman… She always presented to me broken needles and bended pins for my little hobby. I opened the door and came into the confessional room.
Forgive me, Father…
I wiped my knife on his cassock and stepped over his body. I became free.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014
unbolt me 