wakensong

if theirs was the path not followed
then how could we have ever known
of their hopes veiled, atwist in shame
yet now we know
departing eden saved our lives
from the tyrant we thought we knew
meta alpha spitting swords of flame

pious choirs cleaved to the throne
he churned their psalms into a voice of ruin
his shadow sloped through every heartland
so now we know
that whenever he swore to bury us
each variance of will collapsed their brains
they tore themselves on the teeth that hound

we truly blest have truly moved on
presuming to carry gentle our selves
’til we wake to say the soft parts loud
it’s all we know
that if you’re enough then i am too
so will you be my hello for the last time
and tell everyone i love them

Osmose

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2022

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // The Dead Child. by Charles Hamilton Musgrove

Life to her was a perfect flower,
And every petal a jeweled hour,
Till all at once–we know not why–
God sent a frost from His clear blue sky.

Life to her was a fairy rune;
Her light feet tripped to the lilting tune,
Till all at once–we know not why–
God stopped th’ enchanting melody.

Life to her was a picture book
That her glad eyes searched with eager look
Till all at once–we know not why–
God put the wondrous volume by.

by CHARLES HAMILTON MUSGROVE (1871-1926)
Public Domain Poetry

the fall

a lustrous apple falls off the market stall
tumbles and rolls down the messy road
the ground is all bespattered and footworn
a tired stallkeeper takes the apple, puts it back

unsold produce is covered with a grey tarp at night
gets ripe then rots according to nature’s plan
a dirty apple with a battered side cannot sleep
nor stop thinking of that road and the meaning of life

The Fall

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2022

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Solitude. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all;
There are none to decline your nectar’d wine,
But alone you must drink life’s gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a large and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

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