100 WORD SKITTLE // Once Upon a Lent

God spake to me in a dream. “Arise, my son. Hasten thee to the kitchen!”

I arose. I did hasten me to the kitchen. At the fridge I did pray, “What now, Lord?”

“Bratwursts be Satan’s handiwork. Thou must cleanst thine abode of these sin sausages via fasting and supplication! And maybe a bin.”

But I ateth my filleth of them—did it matter anyway how evil be conquered? Still, I did fell to the floor in bloat and faint.

“Forgive me, Lord! Save me from your wrath! (And excess pounds…) I only did this in your Name after all!”

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2022

GUEST POST // lead balloon by LM

possession is 9/10ths of the law
so humanity has written

televangelists flaunting god
for pro/fit/

really gets to me
how
vapid &
empty
their cult
personality can be

I think you’ve already read this part

impossible to possess the intangible
you can only admire the sheen

I’m holding a lead balloon
knowing it’s gold
knowing it’s never going to float
this song on repeat
I can’t stop singing

hold this for me

by LM
© All rights reserved 2021

dog in the manger

no one cares in this world of tyrants
of sycophants and bended knee
how deep goes the well inside of me
and if my bucket is full of holes

the finger of god daubed my soul o’er pain
and it’s making me want to dissolve again
into blest relief from his violent ways
away from nephilim and the sons of earth

i swear the day will come
when y’all will forget about me
for too long have i given life
the benefit of the doubt

the ox and horse cannot eat the hay
dead baby jesus bestrews the manger
a doggerel gospel for the hateful pious
and mongrels returning to their vomit

i swear the day will come
when y’all had better forget about me
for too long have i given life
the benefit of the doubt

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2022

numen mentis

there’s whale song lilting in my brain
e’er beyond a distant shore
away from the fever dreams i
had circumnavigated
to be with you

in stoic avoidance i’d
edged between foam and dune
got shipwrecked in lieu of belonging
and realised this place was ne’er home
nor bullion of promises meant for me

was it e’er only me
this resolve i had to follow you

had it e’er been the face of god
that mine hands held out to enfold

there’s waters swelling o’er that shore
nigh on the embankment of my brain
and the whale song serenade
decrying happy e’er once upons
i finally see that i was satan all along

and ‘tween these flashes of meaning i
espy twin trails o’er bleary sands
one forged with longing, the other you
anchored away from expectation
the fading proof of our story

had i e’er only been
this resolve straining for you

was it e’er truly the face of god
or mine hands beheld to the prints of darkness

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021

PERFECTION IN ACTION // Hard to be Turd

I lifted the seat lid and peeped inside.

“Do you really think you’re the main cheese here?” I asked, shaking my fist into the darkness.

“Yes.” The voice was calm, deep. “I was here before your Father was a tiny seed.”

“But you’re poo?” I’d meant that as a statement of fact. “How could you exist before Father? It isn’t possible.”

“I’m the Perfect and Mighty Poo. The Cycle of Life. The Alpha and Omega.”

I shrugged, and then flushed.

Someone knocked. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you occupied?”

“Nah.” I wiped my hands then reached for the door. “I’m done.”

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021