Category Archives: TATI&TONY

Open-Source Poetry Five #1

Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas everyone!

Oh… Too soon?

Well, usually we’re two bums looking at the tail lights of Santa’s sleigh while we desperately turn out our pockets to find a pen and a sheet of paper for the letter we forgot to write him.

That’s why this year we have decided to be prepared. Like they say: “If you want to be happy, be so.” (Who actually said this by the way?)

So…

‘Dear Mr Santypoos!

We have been a very good girl and boy during this unfestive pandemic and would subsequently like a nice gift* from you (but not a lump of coal like you gave us last Christmas, please).

Tati & Tony

*(Please make it a tiny, uninhabited island and a rad new PS5!)’

Hmmm… no. This sounds rather egoistical. And we’re pretty sure that you, Dear Reader, have also been a very good girl (or boy) this year and thus deserve a nice gift. Tell you what… how about we write a letter to Santa together? And we promise we’ll send it to the addressee when it’s done!

Oh, and what if we write the letter in the form of a lovely, rousing poem? That ought to soften Santa’s glacial heart, don’t you think? Here, we’ll begin…

Вензель

Dear Mr Santypoos, how do you do?
Hope you don’t have COVID and the deer are healthy too.

Вензель_нижний

So, if you want Santa to put something especially cool in your stocking this year then it’s easy! Just follow these simple, festive steps:

1) Close your eyes and recall your deepest wish.
2) Open your eyes, read the above lines of our poem in progress then submit one or two more lines of your own (even if you have a list of 1,918,223 items or somesuch try to pack this into only two lines).
3) We pick the lines we like most (especially if you’ve left us some milk and cookies with them) and we write some more lines to follow those.
4) When the letter is done, we seal it, put all your names in the envelope, and send it to Santa with the next express snowy owl.

By the way, as of this posting there are only 82 shopping days left until Christmas, so we need to hurry the eff up! Get crackin’, hoes! Ho ho ho!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

saoirse

at the beginning of time there was a girl
in a melamine bowl
she had no family, no friends
and was on the dole
she was sat there in a corn flake swirl
a milky, sugared doll
her belongings were mere odds and ends
oh, what a poor little soul!

her name was saoirse
though people hardly remembered
yearning between dearth and plenty
buried under stone in the garden of rasure

at noonday’s predoom was a woman cold
in a gumball machine
for the merriment of boozers
in a stinky shebeen
she would shiver nude and candy bold
a pert and tart cuisine
a laughing stock even for losers
oh, buy her a tall glass of poteen!

her name was saoirse
though people hardly remembered
yearning between dearth and plenty
buried under stone in the garden of rasure

at the end of all things there was a crone
in a bottle discarded
fighting her battles all over again
in weakness, unguarded
she inhaled a black wind through her bones
and all she’d once regarded
her last sigh was for the land of cockaigne
where life is ample tabled and lardered

her name was saoirse
though people hardly remembered
yearning between dearth and plenty
buried under stone in the garden of rasure

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

SPAM® Sushi #15

Wrinklies patients may arrange forgotten the operation, and machiavellian scars are undoubtedly overlooked in the shadowy examination room.
— MitchCheduby

Sure, darkened rooms are the current worldwide trend in the beauty industry. Not only wrinkles and scars can be fixed, but also unwanted birthmarks, crossed eyes, overbites and underbites. Nothing’s impossible. Just one flick of a switch and anyone will look young and beautiful!
— Tati & Tony (Advocates of Natural Beauty and Looking for Black Cats in a Dark Room)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

the oblivion amnesty

as the eviscerated fish fries in its milt
so too i self-immolate in feculent guilt
my thoughts are sharper than a castrating knife
looking to cradle song to pity my lawless life

hush, little baby, don’t say a word
you’ll die soon enough, and shame ungird
just look at yourself one last time
as you flop and gasp before your last crime

as the desiccated slug becomes shriveled and pruned
so too i rub salt into this black pudding wound
my memories are more bitter than jesuit’s bark
looking to burial song to absolve myself in the dark

cry, little baby, let everyone hear
you’ll rot soon enough, in soil and fear
just look at yourself one last time
as you drop and rasp after your last crime

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

PERFECTION IN ACTION // Gendered Fight

“You misunderstand.” The blue butterfly took another sip of nectar. “You’re clearly out of the loop!”

“Sure, ‘mansplain’ it to me then.” The butch lesbian stag beetle rolled her eyes. “You cis male types always know better.”

“Your so-called ‘self-sufficiency’ is just for lack of a real man in your life.” The blue butterfly hiccupped, wiggling his antennae in a faintly imposing manner. Nectar dripped onto the bar counter.

Later that day, the butch lesbian stag beetle’s friends asked about the blue butterfly lying beneath the bar counter in a pool of vomit.

“Oh,” she said. “That’s called ‘self-sufficiency’. Apparently.”

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020