Tag Archives: Death

Between edges

A road… just two edges and infinity between them. To step on the edge. To diverge from the road. To live, as if you’re immortal, is one edge. To live, as if your death is inevitable, is the other edge.

Edges aren’t the road.

Let yourself be immortal. Walking on the edge. Stepping over the edge. Forget miserable time. Look at yourself without the world. Your every step, your every gesture, your every thought… immortality.

Edges aren’t the road.

Let yourself be mortal. Walking on the edge. Stepping over the edge. Take your final step. Look at the world without you. Without your every step, without your every gesture, without your every thought… mortality.

Edges aren’t the road.

You don’t like edges. They’re dangerous. But if you deny edges… you deny the road. You learnt immortality. You learnt mortality.

You learnt… edges aren’t the road.

A road… just two edges and infinity between them. You go ahead. Infinity is under your feet. You took your road.

A courageous alive creature.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

This Kind of Pleasure ~ The one awfully cool collaboration

I love collaborations.
I do love collaborations.
I’m happy and grateful for my amazing co-authors.

Kasey Stafford. (How are you, Kasey? It’s been a long time since I’ve heard from you… I hope you’re OK!)

Michael Spahr. (Michael, I’m so sorry about the delay with my letter! I’ll finish this post and run into my e-mail box!)

Tony Single. (Well… I should say something now… ahem… ahem… Tony! YOU ROCK! Yes. I’m Captain Obvious… LOL!)

Ry Hakari. (Ry! My dear Scourged Red-Winged Blackbird! Please, visit your FB-nest!)

You’re my Gurus, guys. I bow my head and touch your feet. I’m your humble apprentice. Thank you for this honor to work with you! It was funny and sad, philosophical and playful, innocent and obscene… but it was awesome always.

I remember my every collaboration. Honestly! Every collaboration is special. I hope my lessons will last for a long time… But today… Yes.

A big day!

What can I say about Gregory? Hmmm… He’s a tall blue-eyed blonde and a lawyer, he plays tennis and likes yodeling… LOL! Did you swallow that bullshit? NO! I’m kidding, of course. I know nothing about Gregory except the fact that he has a really cool name (you do love HOUSE M.D., don’t you?) and he writes mind-blowing poems.

So… let me introduce you our common effort. I hope you enjoy this little poetical trip. And one last thing before you start… Hey! Don’t use drugs, guys! It’s not cool! Read poems! It’s the fashion at present!

images

She doesn’t attempt to untangle
The dreams locked within the strands of her hair
She stares at the sky waiting for something…
She sees how Draco flirts with Lesser Bear
Playing the starry triangle

A loose smile creeps upon her face
Like a dark shadow confined to a peculiar dance
Her mind and emotions traipse confusions’ paradise.
Lesser Bear gives Draco a disdainful look askance
Touching the collar with jet lace

He doesn’t witness her transition
Her body contracting, scaling, slithering,
Her whisper-hiss’s about Baudelaire, Hughes & Hughes…
Syphilitic ‘Les Fleurs du mal’ are withering…
No one can be her physician

He realizes too late
Her body has coiled from his feet to his waist
Look of love: Unorthodox pleasure in horror…
Air is filled with a subtle hashish aftertaste…
Barbed pinions start to gyrate

A meditation of some form is due
Polka dot scales, Hades blue, this poetic voodo
He collapses elated to notice an audience entranced…
Even your high celestial status can’t protect from the hoodoo
Subtle laces sink into Draco’s bloody goo…

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & GREGORY WAITS JR.
© All rights reserved 2015

GUEST POST // Let Live by Ry Hakari & Tony Single

in central park twilight, a lone wolf
left alone, entrapped in thought
cold air and the staining snow
accursed regret, a taunting effluvium
and what is this a hint of
copper burnished with shame
the burning around the fur
it leaks, tastes bitter

i want my mother’s teat
nurse me, mother, don’t leave
tell me what ties bind me here
in this horrible hinterland

the sticky tree needles scent
strong, while i give off fear
is there life beyond the pack
where do i begin or end
the chase i lost, you chased me off
you wouldn’t forgive or let me live
and now I’m sleepy, fighting weak
with iron teeth as darkness falls

i want my mother’s teat
nurse me, mother, don’t leave
tell me what ties bind me here
in this horrible hinterland

by RY HAKARI & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2015

* * * * *

It’s dark. It’s cold. It smells like blood, sweat and… milk.
It’s virile.
It’s fucking awesome!

I’m happy to show you, my dearest Writers and Readers, the first collaborative poem of my friends. They both are incredible poets, they both are amazing friends and they both are… well, just cool guys!

Ry Hakari and Tony Single.
They both are great.
Check these blogs.

Learn poetry beyond the pack.

Yours,
Unbolt

On Noon No ~ The ‘Well… what does it all mean?’ collaboration

Dammit, I’m mad!

And there are really many reasons to be mad about Tony…

…the first one is Crumble Cult.
…the second one is ONCE MORE, WITH FOREBODING.

The third… The fourth… The hell with it! I don’t need so many! There is only a single reason for me… It’s Tony Single!

Thank you, Tony…

Вензель

Our end began with weaponised words,
bashing the chest like a thousand rolling-pins
on sourdough heart and bone.

Of course, you had a dim foreboding.
Crunch of parchment. Red saffron underfoot.
A marble chopping stone.

I plated myself up for disappointment.
A corrugated brow. Cold hearth and home.
You meant for me to die alone!

You always were flippant and presumptuous.
You estimated our life by eye
and borrowed a swollen loan.

Arugula words were all I tasted from you.
You were east of the sun then west of the moon.
I hardly knew where to point the bone.

Blah… The next pathetic maggot holds forth on stars…
You fought for that last stool on the cheap row
and lost a stage with the vacant throne!

Fine then. I know when I’m royally licked.
Someone gets me a psychotherapist.
Vagina dentata! My ardour has blown!

Lick-time is over. My Symplegades clash.
The dry pillar of Pompey engorges.
The end begins… and ends. Bring a blank die-stone!

Вензель_нижний

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2015

GUEST POST // Rats with Wings by Field of thorns

My apologies to you, for I stole you away
In the dead of the night, whilst you did slumber
In a semiconscious state
I stole you away, in the dead of the night
In the cloak of the rain, and of the thunder
We made our escape, is it any wonder?
I saw how you looked at me, and I too was looking at you
I know I took you without your permission
But, I saw how you were looking at me.

Do not be alarmed, you are my very last part, last part
Last part, of my precious machine
My precious thought machine
A machine made just for two
Where you can be me, and I can be you
In exchange for your thoughts, I give you my heart
You are my very last part, holding the key
The key to the heart, of my precious thought machine.

Close your eyes and let my thoughts in
And a new beginning, will begin, and begin
Don’t be afraid, like the others before
I have given you the key to my heart, my heart
I saw how you were looking at me
And I too was looking at you
You are the very last part, holding the key
The key to the heart, of my precious thought machine.

We have arrive at the shore, the beautiful shore
Where things are pretty and dreamy once more
Pungent smell of camphor wafts through the house
Covering the fragrance of death and decay
Here, we are alone at the shore, just you and I
Where you can be me, and I can be you
I saw how you looked at me, and I too was looking at you
In this lovely house for two
My lovely precious thought machine
A machine made just for two.

Please do not think of escape
No crying, scratching, screaming or such
There is nowhere to run, and no way out
I’ve locked all the windows, and all the doors
Of my precious thought machine, my machine by the shore
Let us sit quietly enjoying each other’s thoughts
In exchange for your thoughts, I give you my heart
You are my very last part, holding the key
The key to the heart, of my precious thought machine.

The gulls in a frenzy upon my return to the shore
How they scream, how they squawk
Louder than the waves knocking upon the door
Who knew my gulls were of the carnivorous sort
How lucky for me, my rats with wings, how they eat, how the eat
They love me and the extra parts that I bring
What they leave behind, sinks to the bottom of the ocean deep
Where things are pretty and dreamy once more.

In time, I know you’ll find I’m perfect for you
In our magic precious thought machine for two
Where you can be me, and I can be you
Just follow my lead and all will be true
I saw how you looked at me, and I too was looking at you
I know I took you without your permission
But, I saw how you were looking at me
In exchange for your thoughts, I give you my heart
You are my very last part, holding the key
The key to the heart, of my precious thought machine.

by FIELD OF THORNS
© All rights reserved 2015