yellow grain waving no surrender
in the onslaught of another storm
we will bend again, again & again
but never level to the ground
why should we rest in pieces
we demand to live in peace
we are not asking
the bear must turn & leave
we are not afraid
you try to raze us down
still we dare to stand
it’s you who are afraid now
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025
a husk sat in dusk
looked for traces of itself
a husk raised its voice
wailed to return to the soul
of you me they she & we
but the ground was wax
& the sky so deaf & bronze
war had melted them
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025
you were a child once
played hide & seek with the truth
smothered your world with a smile
silenced hearthlands with all guile
you held more than the rest of them
more than lifetimes could ever feed
cultivated deafness to their pleas
while touching the lichen on trees
empathy is plebeian
do as i say, not as i do
you held dominion o’er anthills
had them burned ‘neath your lens of rage
watched them scatter into entropy
as you & the bison trammelled lea
you felt so superior
& equally felt misunderstood
self-made with all the scaffolding
afforded you in childhood’s spring
empathy is plebeian
do as i say, not as i sue
the winterings of life now nearer
with less introspection than e’er before
& naught but tongues of sycophants
to baste the gilding of your pants
the end of life now upon you
do your riches gleam paler than e’er before
could you have been less of a bastard
& mayhap wept a little more
empathy is plebeian
do as i say, not as i rue
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025
what is boy to do when
the judge will not advocate
& silence is the crime
his death smacks heavenly sweet
honeyed thus for peace of mind
as the rest of life goes to pot
boy raises a poisoned chalice &
pleads for more hungarian wine
the bad man lashed & beat on him
enriched while boy had less to eat
a legal ward with no standing
but life, they say, can find a way
(tho’ god’s acre be down the street)
what is boy to do when
the judge does prevaricate
& silence is the crime
tho’ blood be often redder
bruises sting profoundly true
how could boy bear any more when
none would pluck this weight away
no reckoning hawk from the blue
his death shall taste bittersweet
at least it’s something left to eat
a boy full bellied on life now
sighs to emptied then lays he down
(for worms to feast in ‘neath the ground)
what is boy to do when
the judge chose to abdicate
& silence was the crime
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025
i should be alive
but i’m always waiting in the wings
what’s my line, what should i be
is there a place onstage for me
brown people are dying
i’m so fucking impotent
somebody help them
somebody better than me
i should be alive
not a white invader
not a white saviour
with thoughts such as these
people are dying
while i’m enmired in
the ‘how is this me’
& the luxury of guilt
i should be alive
improvise my own intention
reach into myself
reach out to others
we all grow old, don’t we
& wish we had more time
unless we’re brown
& then living is a crime
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025
unbolt me 