Category Archives: TONY’S POEMS

threshian harvest

it’s alright, it’s okay
you can lay me down now
in that circle poised for decay
or maybe tomorrow
or maybe back then
hell knows when

it’ll always be too soon
to attend such sadness but
it’s alright & it’s okay anyway

i need only as long as i get
& maybe moments more
for my life to matter
for to fill it with you
& the scenes we’ll ne’er keep
when our play is done

it’ll always be too soon
for such sadness to mend but
it’s alright to live & die anyway

you pay your debts with pain
then seek a new currency
& nurse that barb wire heart
but ask what joy would do
even when i’m gone
see, it’s alright, it’s okay

it’ll always be too soon
to pen such sadness but
it’s alright & got a poem anyway

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

tumbleweed

i’ve wandered far from the shadow where i fell
‘tween the rotted roots of concrete monuments
& the ever glacial drift of meaning

they call me cottonmouth behind my back but
who among can boast of less complicity
or with forethought exercise restraint
& concede that less could be more

at least i’ll admit i am not here to teach you
so learn for yourselves of the self & its value
in this late stage cage of crumbling margins

they call me cottonmouth behind my back but
who among comprehend the half-life of aeons
or can find wisdom so thoroughly hidden
& concede the point without the question

i’ve wandered far from the shadow where i fell
‘tween the monetised myths & wholesale burnings
& the never-ending grift beyond meaning

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

cloudy with a chance of deicide

long may i outlast
all the world’s grey anointing
smog & entropy
let it all float away now
punch the god nose yonder sky

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

happy haw

& god make a fist one day
pulled a rib & make a lady
left a hole inside her that
mortal hunger ne’er could fill

then god make the other fist
custom fit for hungry holes
for to grease her up three ways
make muppets out of one & all

but i’s wise to him
that abba father ain’t no good
& devil plum misunderstood

& why that devil my lover?
in case anybody say
it cos he swear by consent
got a lovin’ temperament

the devil be my lover
yes is yes & no mean no
he hold me in our afterglow
he ain’t the beast they say

but i’s wise to it all
that abba father ain’t no good
& devil plum misunderstood

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

this terminal horizon

rockets, the whistle & drone
chill morning’s zombied air
& perhaps i’m wondering why
as grief covets the grasp of resolve
why more things can’t be possible
why all tomorrows must end

for certain i once was not
dread certain i’ll be not again
but how many days shall pass between
between crib & the yawning earth
for to compose nullifidian hymns
for to soothe in the ghast of dawn

& mainly they drink their own tears
vainly they think their pious fictions
plainly i’ll not be fooled so again
by the quiver of strongmen in bunkers
by gormless rumours of peace
by hope or scripture or fairness or whim

why all tomorrows must end
round & round in war’s grave spin
for to soothe in the ghast of dawn
& the immurement of being
by hope or scripture or fairness or whim
we inhumane vie for suffering

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023