cold (morning coffee without milk)

i should be alive
but i’m always waiting in the wings
what’s my line, what should i be
is there a place onstage for me

brown people are dying
i’m so fucking impotent
somebody help them
somebody better than me

i should be alive
not a white invader
not a white saviour
with thoughts such as these

people are dying
while i’m enmired in
the ‘how is this me’
& the luxury of guilt

i should be alive
improvise my own intention
reach into myself
reach out to others

we all grow old, don’t we
& wish we had more time
unless we’re brown
& then living is a crime

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

fire, water & trumpet spiders

rains fell three days & three nights
like vertical static on a screen
obscuring the grandeur of creation
in a two-bit nature documentary

& suddenly the sun jumped in
like popcorn prancing in a pan
then orange he rose from the dead
a cameo for more residuals

applause thundered two days & nights
spotlights lanced the morose sky
sweeping like kaiju porcupine quills
in arcs of foreboding adoration

& suddenly a bollocking trumpet
as he ascended & then returned
in armani white on a horse to fight
for the christian fascist tech bro cause

coins clinked for one day & that night
ledger filled with sleight of crypto handwriting
vengeful, he smote everything in sight
& stomped with feet burnished bronze

& suddenly there was famine for all
worth about thirty pieces or less
of dignity bought & sold & told
to shut up & worship the trumpian fold

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

snow, blood, shit

better you don’t enter
the unreal forest
better don’t be tempted
with shrieking mavka’s ballads

stop & look around
the boat that carried you here
’tis a moored coffin
‘tween picturesque shores

the winter this year
is temperate
the spirits this winter
are hungry
the bodies cover the trails
the blood covers the bodies
as ai verisimilar
as your best nightmare

better you don’t enter
the unreal forest
better don’t be tempted
with shrieking mavka’s ballads

stop & look around
stop & look around
gaiman is watching you
he’s fucking watching

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2025

clarity

shake it out & lay you down
lean into the hushly furrow
atween cotton wool eyes

the approbation of dreams
where you don’t need to be heard
where you don’t need to be owed
where forever can be like nothing

aslumber in their scaffolding
yet you don’t need their dispensation
to let it all fall away now
so no more maimly going clear
no more sideways tussle
& no more fuzzy words in your ear

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

GUEST POST // Pointless on Point by Cassa Bassa

Poetry is a redundant trade.
Freedom of speech is a lost expression.
Little do I have to say.
Silence is my every word in protest.

by CASSA BASSA
© All rights reserved 2024