Tag Archives: Choices

whyfor

between the hands of time
suicidal ideation
marking the hours until
death’s emancipation
there’s method to the rapture
a flashing blade is all you need

but wouldn’t you rather feel pain
than to be nothing at all
feel the anatomy of lungs
your swelling ribs in the rain
each lovesick gasp unweaned
present & phosphorescent

are love & afterlife a con
oblivion what you really seek
a stranger to this world
huffing on fumes of disbelief
a stranger to this world
can choose to flee it yet

but wouldn’t you rather be pain
than to feel nothing at all
the testimony of lungs
swelling bone cage in the rain
& may all your love & fears be known
all hopeful phosphorescence

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2026

Tumblevision #46

My song for the day is Billy Bragg’s ‘You Woke Up My Neighbourhood‘. Check it out!

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2026

event horizon

misanthrope’s been afraid all along
even tho’ he’s been feigning strong
has it not all been said before
look, a tower; look, a flower
something about the balance of power

no one listens that needs to repent
& no one’s yelling that needs to dissent
we’re all cooked as the world flames on
& now he’s wondering who left the gas on

he sees there’s no sea change coming
while others pledge to hate & kill
& just one more messianic stare
ought be enough to tip him off the edge
of a sanity pilling with unicorns

he suspects our god is flawless evil
that mercy’s become the devil’s trade
how long ’til the sun peeks over the yardarm
’til mankind swaps out the blood for gin

has this ship of fools sailed merry away
away off the edge of yesterday
where messiah’s blood was not asked for
nor its spiteful resurrection
misanthrope has his life by the noose

between an ocean & fire
here at the point of no return
look, a tower crushes the flower
sanity’s pilling with unicorns

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Ode To Man. by Thomas Frederick Young

A man is not what oft he seems,
On this terrestrial sphere,
No pow’r to wield, no honor’d place,
Oft curb his spirit here.

He knows not what within him lies,
Until his pow’rs be tried,
And when for them some use is found,
They spring from where they hide,

To startle and to puzzle him,
Who never knew their force,
Because his unfreed spirit kept
A low and shackl’d course.

Dishearten’d and despairing, he
Had often sigh’d alone,
Not thinking that in other ways
His spirit might have grown.

Not thinking that another course,
Which needed pluck and vim,
Might raise his drowning spirit high,
And teach it how to swim;

To battle with the rolling tide,
That hurries onward men,
And raise his head above the waves,
That come and go again.

by THOMAS FREDERICK YOUNG (1892-1940)
Public Domain Poetry

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // A World Worth Living In by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

One who claims that he knows about it
Tells me the earth is a vale of sin;
But I and the bees, and the birds we doubt it,
And think it a world worth living in.

Whatever you want, if you wish for it long,
With constant yearning and ceaseless desire,
If your wish soars upward on wings so strong
That they never grow languid, never tire,
Why, over the storm cloud and out of the dark
It will come flying some day to you,
As the dove with the olive branch flew to the ark,
And the wish you’ve been dreaming,
it will come true.

by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX (1855–1919)
Public Domain Poetry