Broken Poem (Fragment #16)

I knocked at the door.

“Come in!”

The professor was sitting on the window sill without his shoes. It looked a bit strange, but I had gotten used to his little quirks. Generally speaking, our entire magistral staff is a strange sort of panopticon—a freak show if you will—and so sitting barefoot on a window sill looks like kid’s stuff in comparison with the other teachers’ habits.

“What are you staring at? Give me your scribbles!”

I had gotten used to his bad manners too. With impassiveness I offered my worn down notebook to him. The professor opened it, read some lines and screwed up his face.

“What the crap?”

“It’s my homework.”

“Are you sure?”

“It seems so…”

“Quite so. It only seems like homework.”

He tossed the notebook against the wall. It bumped into a shelf of softbound texts, opened and came apart. Lines that I had written with diligence and care crumbled. Words and punctuation marks were scattered higgledy-piggledy in every corner like pieces of a shattered cup. I sniffled and bit my bottom lip.

Gather up this trash. And don’t spoil such precious words with your glamorous bullshit.”

I stood and looked at his bare feet, at those claws clutching over the floor. They were long and crooked with an unpleasant yellow hue…

“Look sharp! I’m not going to hang around for another aeon!”

I started to gather my unhappy poem from the dirty floor. Resentment was slowly turning into fury. Plucked peacock! I will sort you! I will show you anti-glamour!

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

Testing, Part #1 (Fragment #30)

The desk was a scuffed, sordid blue. I love such things, you know. They’re better at telling you the story of an institution than all those dull, fat conduct books, and they’re more entertaining. For example, right here someone had ably depicted the birth process of star-nosed moles. I sniggered. Considering their knowledge of such ‘niceties’, perhaps it was a future Darwin Medalist. Although… yuck! I reached for a pen.

Twenty two, dolt! Twenty two, not nineteen! I hate giving a lick and a promise! It’s better not to do at all than to do something sloppily.

I was nearly finished coloring the corrected snout when I heard a semi-cough right above me. Yipes! I raised my eyes slowly, and saw the sheen of a badge: ‘Mr. Turdman’. I snickered.

“Follow me, young lady.”

I got up from the desk and dragged myself after the badge wearer’s podge.

Some lanky guy stood near the door and droned like a jammed record: “Please put your cellphones, tablets, and other gadgets into the basket. Please don’t use any electronic devices during the test.”

I shrugged my shoulders and fished my old celly in its scratched maroon sheath out of my pocket. I put it into the plastic basket, right on top of the shiny, posh smartphones. It looked pretty funny, as if a behemoth had decided to join the dance of the little swans.

“Hey, are you dozing off, bimbo? Stop holding up the line!”

His derisive tone brought me back to reality. “I may suck, but you swallow,” I thought reflexively. I stepped into the study amphitheater.

Question 1a. Compose a limerick using the following rhymes: town, nightgown, lock, o’clock.

I scratched my nape and looked helplessly about. Some dweeb with huge glasses to my left seemed like a promising prospect. This dork obviously knows what the hell a limerick is. I whispered, “Psst! You! Hey, you!”

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

a Casserole (Fragment #003)

The garage was open but Henry wasn’t there. I decided to take my time and wait for him. I loitered about, staring at Henry’s gizmos, some of them with bewilderment. What is that? And what is this for?

There was a TV mounted on the wall, the sound muted. A crudely fashioned logo flickered onto the screen. ‘1000 and 1 useful devices for life and death!’ LOL! I took the remote control and turned the sound back up.

Hi! It’s me, Berta ‘Widow’ Black, and my TV show ‘1000 and 1 Useful Devices for Life and Death’. Today I’ll tell you about the casserole, because it’s an exclusively practical and comfy thing. You can use casseroles in many different ways! And I’ll prove this right now.

For example… You’ve eloped to your office closet for a little self pleasure. Suddenly, a knock at the door! It’s your stupid assistant… What should you do? Don’t panic! You should scream ‘CAASSEEEEROOOOLEE!!!!!!’ and run past your numb helper quickly.

Or… Let me say… You get your out-of-warranty brain exchanged for a new one. Your head is light now, and it sags from side to side. It’s because the wind is blowing. A casserole helps! It fills your skull, it protects your empty head from dust and insects You can put a casserole into any place… into your bra, your underpants, into your wallet… You know your empty spaces perfectly, just fill them!

More… A casserole can make a hard upholstered sofa soft and warm. How nice to sit on a fresh, steaming casserole! If you want to bulldoze a child who has bad eating habits, you should tell him or her about the stalking of casseroles, about this embodiment of atrocity, about these instigators of interracial wars! Be sure, your child will begin to eat voraciously and slurp very loudly…

I could talk about casseroles for hours and hours… but our time is running out, alas. I’m sure, to the question “What do you need for absolute happiness?” you will now be answering, “Except for a casserole – nothing!”

Good bye, my dears! Next time I’ll tell you about using a casserole as a source of power, or as material for making a copy of Lenin in Mausoleum in 1:1 scale! Kisses and hugs! It’s me, your Berta ‘Widow’ Black and my TV show ‘1000 and 1 Useful Devices for Life and Death’. See you soon!

I was spasming with laughter. What a cool show! By the way, she didn’t just talk. She really put on a show! She filled the bras of some volunteers from the audience and even one wallet…

“Hey, Kitsune!”

Henry’s voice interrupted my ponderings. What would I fill with a casserole? His blabbing mouth, of course!

“Henry, don’t call me that!” (to be continued)

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

a Circus, Part #2 (Fragment #010)

A howitzer! It had begun with a conversation about the howitzer barrel aimed at a banquet! Hmm… Maybe I should say, “It began with our conversation about a circus!” to be more precise. I can’t say that I’m very snarky but I really don’t like circus art. I see many societal blemishes in it. A circus is an ugly show in my opinion! Nasty clowns with inflatable hammers who bash each other and the audience… A rubber girl who squirms like an epileptic with convulsions… A mangy dog with an old abacus – can I REALLY believe that IT is able to count to ten? Honestly? Can you believe in this? Golly! You’re such fools!

I realized that I was shouting only when I noted the expostulatory look from my lovely Chilperic. But I had decided to ignore it. And I’ll still tell him tonight that I’m a big girl, and he can stop parenting me! I must finish my speech!

So, I decided to gather all this rabble and to shoot them out of the howitzer. It’s the only decent performance in the circus! And when I had finished, I was quite pleased with myself.

A strange creature in the corner looked at me… And just then, I began to shiver, out of the blue… And after that chill I heard a stomp from the side corridor.

∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼

I stand on the stage and feel like I’m blind. I can see nothing beyond the blinding glare of terrible searchlights. A black gaping abyss is beneath my feet… the silent auditorium.
– ¡Señoras y señores, buenas tardes!
What? What the hell? I’m not only blind… deaf also! Perfect! Just perfect!
– ¡Ceremonia ‘Premio Dardos Award’ a la vista!
Oh, dear me… how could I forget? Hell… HELL! I try to recall where I put my list of nominees… on the table… or on the bookshelf… in the glove compartment?
– ¡Unbolt arenga!
I’ve never cursed myself like I do now… I can’t lay an egg! Not today when I’m so close to my target! Not today! My list of nominees… damn it! I don’t need it! I smile at Prakash Hegade. One step ahead… I close my eyes and start to speak. Without my list. Without any preparation. I’m saying their names by heart. I’m reading my heart list…

21 Shades Of Blue ∼ Dead Cat Comes Back ∼ Field Of Thorns ∼ Henry Game: His/story ∼ In Search Of The Perfect Spring ∼ Johnpoetflanagan ∼ Northern Nevermore ∼ PoeticDepression ∼ PoetryBySkull ∼ Prospermind ∼ Raycabiro 
SpahrPlops ∼ Strings Of Soulfulness ∼ The Poesy Project ∼ UP!::urban Po’E.Tree(s)

I’m happy. I didn’t lay an egg! I smile at the black gaping abyss and…

∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼

…and I wake up on a big heap of rotten beetroot and zucchini. (to be continued)

P.S. Ah… sorry, my dear Prakash Hegade for my creativity… Guilty! Now you can arrest me! The last thing that I should tell my heart nominees – “All information and rules regarding the Premio Dardos Award are here.” The end. Take him away!

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

My special thanks to one and only Cyan Ryan,
a great friend and an excellent editor,
for grammar corrections and improvements this essay!

P.S. And for this incredible video too… thank you, Ry!

a Circus, Part #1 (Fragment #006)

…I woke up on a big heap of rotten beetroot and zucchini. It had a terrible stink… No! It was more than that — a hellish stink! I coughed and tried to open my eyes.

I was in semi-darkness… though a few minutes later my eyes adjusted to it. But, I wasn’t too happy with the picture I saw. And the main reason for this was the goon who was sitting on the wooden box opposite me. He looked sore, and his feathers were shabby and mucky. “He doesn’t look kosher…” Why do such stupid thoughts come to mind at times like this? Is it a self-defense mechanism when confronting madness?

Fuck! Yesterday I had relished the sterling French accent of my Chilperic as he entreated me to be more prudent, to not have common affairs with this hillbilly Henry I didn’t listen to him, unfortunately… At that moment, the choice of my eyeliner’s color to pair with my evening dress had been more important to me… I was a fool! Stupid chicken! I tried to recall the previous evening. It was still a fog in my memory, just a gray and sticky fog… Suddenly, I recalled.

A howitzer!

It had begun with a conversation about the howitzer barrel aimed at the banquet! (to be continued)

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

My special thanks to the one and only Cyan Ryan,
a great friend and an excellent editor,
for grammar corrections and improvements this essay!