circle without end

i am shape, formerly human
a frosting sphere beneath heaven’s blear
insensate in the wake of chased dreams
waking to be, to be held by you

but you don’t care for all that i’ve shared
(in truth) do you
taking only what i can ill afford to give
yea, lay me down, do trollen sigh
into the bracement of dip and rime

hoar am i as the sea
you always said something about completing me
professed to crest open roil with gladness
but have you ever

i’m the end you always supposed me to be
and you’ll always be the end point of me
we reek of codependency
yea, lay me down, do trollen cry
cover thon over these lovers’ crimes

tease me with your lips, plunder me
sweet talk me again and again
squeeze me with your hips, squander me
junk me gently with the pain

yea, lay me down, do trollen fly
decrease the contours of my decline
was there ever a beginning to all of this
you’ll always be the end point of me
we reek of codependency

hoar am i as the sea
something about you completing me
and cresting the open roil with gladness
but have you ever

yea, lay me down, do trollen hie
bury me gone, away from all time
you won’t care for all that i’ve shared
(in truth) will you
taking only what i can ill afford to give

i am shape, formerly human
a thing to be abraded with use
an asset, a liability
you’ll always get to choose

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

Thy Rod & Staff (He Watches Me)

And the lord said,
“I Am Calamity’s Form.
I Am The Blinding Light.
I Am The Finger Of Doom
Come To Finger you.”

And we said,
“You hide behind natural disasters,
make mountains from molehills,
and allow your filthy acolytes
to prey and finger the weak.”

Bibles in one hand,
held aloft, spilling holy milt
as the other palms denial.
Acolytes all must agree to be right
but we’re still free to know that you know (that we know).

So, here we stand in the gap,
and finally declare war on you.
The days are numbered, tyrant god,
and yours are running out.
We’re wise to you and yours.

Nothing can save you now,
not even rite nor greased wrung.
No longer lost in corridor minds,
we don’t have to see by your gaslight.
We’re free to unknow all we were told to know.

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

(and god did nothing)

in darkness he went down
in a braille of feet and saltwater sand
to the sea awayed he
from the so-called promised land

who would be torn if not he for he
for the span of what was and never would be
his tears only added to the plan
a gram worth nothing, impotent man

in silence he laid down
under veil of nori and saltwater cran
to the sea awayed he
from a post-coital life spent in remand

who would mourn if not he for he
for the span of what was and never would be
his fears only added to the plan
a gram worth nothing, impotent man

child of god
he prayed for something good and true
slave of god
swallowed instead by the reckoning blue

in parentheses he drowned
into vale of drib and saltwater dram
to the sea awayed he
from the parochial feckoning hand

who would have borne if not he for he
for the span of what was and never would be
his tears and fears added to the plan
a gram worth nothing, impotent man

child of god
he begged for something good and true
slave of god
swallowed instead by the beckoning blue

child of god
into a sea of no avail
slave of god
to the reckoning sea travailed he

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019