a Circus, Part #2 (Fragment #010)

A howitzer! It had begun with a conversation about the howitzer barrel aimed at a banquet! Hmm… Maybe I should say, “It began with our conversation about a circus!” to be more precise. I can’t say that I’m very snarky but I really don’t like circus art. I see many societal blemishes in it. A circus is an ugly show in my opinion! Nasty clowns with inflatable hammers who bash each other and the audience… A rubber girl who squirms like an epileptic with convulsions… A mangy dog with an old abacus – can I REALLY believe that IT is able to count to ten? Honestly? Can you believe in this? Golly! You’re such fools!

I realized that I was shouting only when I noted the expostulatory look from my lovely Chilperic. But I had decided to ignore it. And I’ll still tell him tonight that I’m a big girl, and he can stop parenting me! I must finish my speech!

So, I decided to gather all this rabble and to shoot them out of the howitzer. It’s the only decent performance in the circus! And when I had finished, I was quite pleased with myself.

A strange creature in the corner looked at me… And just then, I began to shiver, out of the blue… And after that chill I heard a stomp from the side corridor.

∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼

I stand on the stage and feel like I’m blind. I can see nothing beyond the blinding glare of terrible searchlights. A black gaping abyss is beneath my feet… the silent auditorium.
– ¡Señoras y señores, buenas tardes!
What? What the hell? I’m not only blind… deaf also! Perfect! Just perfect!
– ¡Ceremonia ‘Premio Dardos Award’ a la vista!
Oh, dear me… how could I forget? Hell… HELL! I try to recall where I put my list of nominees… on the table… or on the bookshelf… in the glove compartment?
– ¡Unbolt arenga!
I’ve never cursed myself like I do now… I can’t lay an egg! Not today when I’m so close to my target! Not today! My list of nominees… damn it! I don’t need it! I smile at Prakash Hegade. One step ahead… I close my eyes and start to speak. Without my list. Without any preparation. I’m saying their names by heart. I’m reading my heart list…

21 Shades Of Blue ∼ Dead Cat Comes Back ∼ Field Of Thorns ∼ Henry Game: His/story ∼ In Search Of The Perfect Spring ∼ Johnpoetflanagan ∼ Northern Nevermore ∼ PoeticDepression ∼ PoetryBySkull ∼ Prospermind ∼ Raycabiro 
SpahrPlops ∼ Strings Of Soulfulness ∼ The Poesy Project ∼ UP!::urban Po’E.Tree(s)

I’m happy. I didn’t lay an egg! I smile at the black gaping abyss and…

∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼

…and I wake up on a big heap of rotten beetroot and zucchini. (to be continued)

P.S. Ah… sorry, my dear Prakash Hegade for my creativity… Guilty! Now you can arrest me! The last thing that I should tell my heart nominees – “All information and rules regarding the Premio Dardos Award are here.” The end. Take him away!

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

 

My special thanks to one and only Cyan Ryan,
a great friend and an excellent editor,
for grammar corrections and improvements this essay!

P.S. And for this incredible video too… thank you, Ry!

a Circus, Part #1 (Fragment #006)

…I woke up on a big heap of rotten beetroot and zucchini. It had a terrible stink… No! It was more than that — a hellish stink! I coughed and tried to open my eyes.

I was in semi-darkness… though a few minutes later my eyes adjusted to it. But, I wasn’t too happy with the picture I saw. And the main reason for this was the goon who was sitting on the wooden box opposite me. He looked sore, and his feathers were shabby and mucky. “He doesn’t look kosher…” Why do such stupid thoughts come to mind at times like this? Is it a self-defense mechanism when confronting madness?

Fuck! Yesterday I had relished the sterling French accent of my Chilperic as he entreated me to be more prudent, to not have common affairs with this hillbilly Henry I didn’t listen to him, unfortunately… At that moment, the choice of my eyeliner’s color to pair with my evening dress had been more important to me… I was a fool! Stupid chicken! I tried to recall the previous evening. It was still a fog in my memory, just a gray and sticky fog… Suddenly, I recalled.

A howitzer!

It had begun with a conversation about the howitzer barrel aimed at the banquet! (to be continued)

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

My special thanks to the one and only Cyan Ryan,
a great friend and an excellent editor,
for grammar corrections and improvements this essay!

a Maniac (Fragment #026)

I pressed a latch and closed my eyes. My heartbeat started to slow down. I wasn’t late… which meant that I could continue with my education… and my language acquisition. Damn! Chilperic was especially tiresome today. Generally, he doesn’t grumble much… but today he was a true bore! He tried finding out where I spend my evenings.

“Er versucht zu dahinterkommen!” [German: He tries to unearth!]

I smiled at this thought. Anyway – I’m lucky! To get to have free practice with a native speaker… 24/7… How many people can boast that? I can! My teacher is watching TV I hope the sound will not muffle his comments.

“Stumpfsinn! Wer so spielt?!” [German: Hebetude! Who plays like that?!]

It’s a pity that I can’t write now… though I can hear the pronunciation perfectly.

“Sie schreiben Grabinschrift in diesem Augenblick!” [German: They write an epitaph in this moment!]

No… it was not for nothing that I came to him the first night. Of course, he does have some problems with social adaptation and interpersonal relationships… but now I’m sure I will be able to pass my exam.

I adjusted my handcuffs… they are broken and slip down my wrists constantly… I spoiled my restraints the first evening. Wow! Our project is ‘Super force for Super dweebs’… Didn’t I say that yet? If you’ll remind me to explain I’ll narrate… later… Oh, Henry I miss you!

I leaned against the radiator and continued to sweat over SWOT analysis.

“Ich murre – Du murrst – Er murrt” [German: I grumble – You grumble – He grumbles]

“Stop mumbling! Stop your fucking Geschwatz!” [German: Verbiage] What do you do?

I bit my tongue. Breaking News started. My teacher was again the head-liner. I’ve heard this for the hundredth time now… A maniac… kidnaps girls… has German accent… be careful… call the police… Blah-blah-blah… I yawned.

While I was falling asleep near the radiator, I was imagining a surprised look on my sweet Chilperic… When he hears my German, he’ll be stupefied… I adore his stupid face in such moments! (to be continued)

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

my Chilperic (Fragment #022)

The summer was over… Henry went to Cardiff and I got back to my tasks in the Federal Museum. It’s not a gainful place. De facto, I’m a volunteer. But I really love this work. And, of course, I do get some benefits from my work.

Who am I? I’m a curator of a few departments there, including the department of my own species. It lets me correct the records with some facts and fables about us. People like to hunt for our heads. My corrections help save lives… and to have a little fun. It was I who invented the legend that we like to dance on tiptoe and cannot understand jokes about Stierlitz Of course, it was just out of my childishness, and I cannot honestly affirm that it’s very useful information. But that shouldn’t make you think that I’m just a foolish young wag at heart… I’m a scientist after all! I’ve made some important corrections as well.

For example, I changed Trypophobia to Metrophobia in all of our medical records. Oh! Sometimes I can even surprise myself! By the way, it’s of no use trying to convince someone that a fear of subways isn’t ‘Metrophobia’… I personally just prefer taking the shortest routes. I grab such unconvinced ignoramuses by their collars and invite them to take a little ride on the roof of the carriage with me so I can teach them what a TRUE fear of subways is! And I’m glad to have such opportune days. But days when I meet with people who truly know what ‘Metrophobia’ means… I’m not so glad… I’m happy!

What can be better than killing accompanying poetry? It’s an elusive sensitivity… a vivid and exciting feeling! They hope to make me weaker… they are perplexed… they cannot understand why I mock. I have heard plenty of poems… by many poets… in various languages Some poems I bestow the stubborn ears of know-it-all jackasses, to listen to until the end of the line. Some poems I snub abruptly, cutting them down in the middle of their first lines. Anyway, nothing could change the final act of these little poetic theater performances. But one day, I thought I would have another happy ending’s poetic justice when something unexpected happened.

He was declaiming The Word by Gumilev. He had an ill-affecting accent. My wall of defense fell. I wasn’t able to kill it with my fiery brand of poetry… I have burned out his memory. I gave him a fiery brand new name. I created him anew from scratch. My forum of conscience…

My Chilperic. (to be continued)

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

My special thanks to Cyan Ryan
for grammar corrections and improvement this essay!