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

Ulysses

I look at you.
I smell a rat.

Your familiar coo
And your skin is matt.
Hallelujah is in your voice
And this smell is my biggest hardship.

It looks like I have no choice.
I again stand on this airstrip.

I look at you.
I smell a rat.

My thoughts are a clew.
Bryan Adams sings… Drat!
It’s time to pay my invoice.
It’s time to break this grip.

Love loves to love love.
Do you love Joyce?
I see how you’re touching your lip…

I look at you.
You smell like a rat!

All this makes me spew.
I take up my gat.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

I don’t know

I don’t know
I exist or no.
All my senses turned into white ash.
Many years ago
I refused this show,
Threw away my passions like unneeded trash.

I smashed up all mirrors,
I killed viewers and hearers,
I put my gun under my head instead of cozy pillows.

I don’t know
I’m alive or no.
All my cells encrusted with sediment and rust.
I didn’t mark a foe,
I didn’t forecast a blow.
And now I disremembered about the notion of ‘trust’.

I smashed up all mirrors,
I killed viewers and hearers,
I put my gun under my head instead of cozy pillows.

…When I inhale this purple mist
Dead senses start to dance a twist
And I’m ready to stop my run
And hide my gun.
But zombies here. I hear a snigger.
I must exhale. And pull the trigger

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

…adrenaline runs low

cur doesn’t flow through torn wire.
my veins are cold. I lost my fire.
and throbbing love in slow gyre
descends to bottom. descends to nothing.
this cruel game without rules.
I count my uneven pulse.
I just become a needless plaything
just trash

(a chorus)
adrenaline runs low – and heart is dying
and squirming in convulsions in my chest
adrenaline runs low – and sun is crying
and darkness comes to my heart like a guest

I cannot stop this nightly show.
a gutless puppet squirms in throe.
dread voice gives orders calm and slow
so phony. so truly.
incisive waves destroy my space
and heavy fogs erase my face.
I make a last stroke. I make a last sigh. so coolly…

(a chorus)
adrenaline runs low – and heart is dying
and squirming in convulsions in my chest
adrenaline runs low – and sun is crying
and darkness comes to my heart like a guest

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014