Category Archives: TATI’S POEMS

a Little-Heart of Yellow-Fluff

Your rattle can plunge in doubt
the wisest men.
You dance barefoot…
I stare like a full moron.

You’re on tip-toe into darkness.
I’m behind you
in semi-consciousness
with a falling IQ.

You exhale the sweetest dope.
I’m a pillhead.
I cannot cope.
I’m unwarranted. I’m mad.

When my poor heart gets tired
and becomes planetary,
I’ll get plastered
and lodge in my chest you, my silly canary.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

My special thanks to Tony Single
for his soft treads on this one.

Oops!… We Did It Again (Culling)

Erm… hullo there. (This is rather awkward…)

Dear Reader, the stuff that was originally posted here has been removed.

We have done this because said stuff has since been included in one of our published books. We hope you’ll believe us when we say we’re not trying to be stingy. No, this has been done to honour the people who have already spent their hard-earned money on our eBook creations.*

If, however, for some reason you’re unable to buy one of our books, and feel you’ll die without seeing this piece of writing, then please contact us via admin@unbolt.me. We won’t allow our Dear Readers to fade away in the dark. We’ll send you the piece in question, and it will be absolutely free. All you need do is ask.

* Of course, we would be like two happy puppies if you too decided to buy one of our books.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2015-2018

a Guest

You say that others’ mistakes can’t teach.
Time is cruel and doesn’t cure.
May I help you? I’m not really sure
but I promise to listen to your speech.

You say that darkness is the brightest light,
that the loudest scream is mute…
I nod. I don’t argue with the whiteness of soot
and the preeminent grandeur of blight.

You shout and whisper. You laugh and cry.
My task is to put a kettle on fire.
You run round the room like a gyre.
I take cups from the shelf and slice up a pie.

You finish and go out into the night
with salutary lightness inside your chest.
…I don’t get the money from my nightly guest.
My royalties are my permission to write.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

the Pythia

How have I perfected the smoky oracle-art?
I too often set on fire my credulous heart
and tried to read a nonexistent story.
When my core became cold and hoary
I finished cheating myself with these air-built hopes
and got a job in the Temple of Apollo on the Delphi slopes.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

an Invitation (Tea-for-Two)

Well… there’s a hellish private tea-party.
Are you brave? Put on a mask of the Cheshire or the Hatter.
Pretend that you’re fucking arty
And that you’re a God of refined chatter.

But beware of the owner, little sweet Alice.
She’ll offer you a Mad-Poisonous-Mushroom-Brew.
The truth serum which smells like sweet anise…
And she’ll start to torture you with Twenty-and-One Shades of Blue.

Did you fuck up at least once? Kicked down the stair!
Get out! Without umbrellas and underwear!

P.S. Want more details? Please, look here!
(Hmm… and take a spare set of dry underwear…)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015