don’t consider every poet a messiah
but, rather, a pretty sounding liar
the snivelling, hysterical jeremiah
was one such example
don’t consider every poet a liar
but, rather, a pathetic pariah
who’ll burn in the almighty’s holy fire
fuelled by his urine sample
don’t consider every poet a pariah
but, rather, a copious arse licking choir
worshipping elites with sexual desire
thirty pieces of silver will be ample
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024
the peroni virus takes the stand
as the judge takes his gavel in hand
the jury, petty, looks real confused
the face of the prosecutor bland
one wonders how it’s come down to this
a court room in a state less than bliss
they all look over at the accused
who waves to the press, then blows a kiss
& that’s the point where everyone dies
thrashing as they bleed from nose & eyes
the peroni virus takes its hat
& bids to all a pleasant goodbye
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024
in the beginning
god created the queue
& placed it before a mall
there was no grinning
just shoppers in a stew
spoiling for a pre-sale brawl
& god saw that it was good
evening & morning, one day
in the beginning
god made anxieties
& placed them in a poodle
there was no trimming
just fleas & bad matting
a pentagram on its noodle
& god saw that it was good
evening & morning, two days
in the beginning
god made uncertainties
& placed them square in harm’s way
there was no winning
just wrong math, bugs & pleas
404 page, print delay
& god saw that it was good
evening & morning, three days
but the next morning
the fourth & final day
god made the reaper from dust
then gave a warning
not to get in god’s way
‘cos he could no longer be arsed
& god didn’t give a rats that it was not good
evening & morning, the reaper joined the poodle at the discount sale
& got a killer deal on a brand new nintendo switch 2
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024
waking up to reality
it really shouldn’t be so hard
without your morning coffee hit
tongue feels like a rusty bollard
your bladder is full to bursting
it jolly well hurts to high heaven
you were supposed to wake at eight
but had to take a piss at seven
the pins & needles in your neck
have you concerned for your health
your rickety arsed hinged knees
fold into the declining years of self
a mind filled with yesterday’s fog
a handful of pills for breakfast
you hope they’re not addictive
& could swear you’re growing a bust
is that a dead bear on the couch
the mirror says no, look again
your birthday party begins tonight
twenty-five? try four score & ten!
by TETIANA ALEKSINA, CASSY SINGLE & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024
there’s only four of us
& only three days left
two options, yes or no
one last guess equals effed
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024
unbolt me 