why do they add the aitch between
and how is that meant to be offensive?
jesus and christ, middle name harold
likes long walks on the beach and hurling frisbees
what’s so contemptible about that?
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2016
Category Archives: TONY’S POEMS
the strand (lost paradise lament)
seraph, a man in a grain of sand
how far you have fallen
all trace of you got swept beneath
the sea of time, your alleged crime
you tried to pay your respects
to the last breath, but lies still lie and
fidelity has long left the stage
he’s gone, never to pass this way again
you bear the echo of all that was
with the weight of a dead crown
are these the days of clarity
in the sea of time, a bitter wine
lilies grow amongst the skulls now
the aftermath of your unseen war
have you not seen through the tears
you, the unreconstructed man
silence, and dark tranquillity
morning star, you blanch at the dawn
parlay at the speed of trust’s decay
this sea of time, the mere sublime
grief has frozen you to the shoreline
the pain of you reaches into his lie
verging on hope, though god knows why
a quiet smoke seeking ascension’s sigh
who will come for you now
who will comfort you, bury you
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018
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hushabye (black & blue)
every man a cocksure monster
every tongue a flattering lie
so let my absence fill your room
now that i am required to leave
will you speak inside my fizzy head
one last time
set the record straight
and i’ll turn my eyes to the skyline
say, “that’s the door”
every cock a father figure
every dalliance is the one
so let my absence fill your heart
now that i’m being made to leave
will you smack alive my 8-ball head
one last time
let my answer be no
and i’ll turn my eyes to the skyline
say, “that’s the door”
every oke a cocksucking ogre
every tryst yet another nail
so let my absence fill your coffin
hushabye radge, i see a door
you’ll not grieve me any more
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018
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the swansong cycle (part two): black swan (the piano & balalaika elegy)
desolation is just a word
desolation is just a feeling
it’s nothing to do with me
yet i cry anyway
i plan to rise above it all
one of these days
when i can fill no more
when i begin to finally pour
let this last gasp elevate me
let this last gasp make me to soar
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018
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beautiful homunculus
love ripped through your brightened veins
you wondered how much you could possibly take
the blood (a choir) roaring inside you
rushing to shape a song inside you
naught can be done to hasten the healing
but you have to know they’re only scars
and i love you, my homunculus
hurt and all
your voice was sandpaper’s rasp
no one understood, who among them could
blood in a cage, no doors inside you
no release for the song inside you
naught can be done to hasten the healing
but you have to know they’re only scars
and i love you, my homunculus
hurt and all
you’re loved, deplumed, so no more pretense
no longer can you be about mere survival
blooded for life, a kindling inside you
the filaments of song deep inside you
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018
