dear mice: stop shitting
in my toaster and I will
put away my traps
by THE FIXER
© All rights reserved 2022
dear mice: stop shitting
in my toaster and I will
put away my traps
by THE FIXER
© All rights reserved 2022
if i chose a superpower
i would pick to be errant dust
i’d pass through glass and hour
fling into eyes with every gust
any batman, any joker
would be out of their league
neither spade nor super soaker
will slow my grainy blitzkrieg
you can hide your useless gun
and unclench those comic fists
my stinging blasts you’ll not outrun
get my warning, get the gist
not a sick, bloodthirsty flower
nor nipples spewing toxic lust
if i chose a superpower
you’d tire of choking on my dust
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2022
in the starchy days of the victorian era
there was a bearded goat, the noble caballero
he had a heart of gold, was an opium wars hero
he was a strict vegan with a soft spot for madeira
the goat was head of the royal spy agency ‘chimera’
one day he was in a hurry because of an urgent case
and by chance swept off a table the queen’s favourite vase
moreover, he nudged a box of royal tissues from its place
unfortunately for him ill news always flies apace
and in a blink of an eye the goat lost the queen’s grace
next day another qualified as head of the secret vow
while the poor clumsy goat hitched a rope over a royal bough
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2022
let us remember
tie our navels end to end
umbilical dreams
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021
If I were young as you, Sixteen,
And you were old as I,
I would not be as I have been,
You would not be so shy,
We should not watch with careless mien
The golden days go by,
If I were young as you, Sixteen,
And you were old as I.
The years of youth are yours, Sixteen;
Such years of old had I,
But time has set his seal between
Dark eyebrow and dark eye.
Sere grow the leaves that once were green,
The song turns to a sigh:
Ah! very young are you, Sixteen,
And very old am I.
Red bloom-times come and go, Sixteen,
With snow-soft feet, but I
Shall be no more as I have been
In times of bloom gone by;
For dimmer grows the pleasant scene
Beneath the pleasant sky;
The world is growing old, Sixteen,
The weary world and I.
Ah, would that once again, Sixteen,
A kissing mouth had I;
The days would gaily go, I ween,
Though death should stand anigh,
If springtime’s green were evergreen,
If Love would never die,
And I were young as you, Sixteen,
And you were old as I.
by VICTOR JAMES DALEY (1858-1905)
Public Domain Poetry