seeds for your pocket

o demon face
may you reach the end of yourself
so that you will know
you will know that no one had to die

your lies have led to a thousand blooms
set alight in the silence
your crimes have made them feel too much
everything then nothing

the bodies you’ve threshed underfoot
are the seeds you’ve sown of your destruction
their scarlet heads now reach and sway
freedom cries scattered to the wind

and the wind remove all trace of you
hie thee into damnable night
your brutal answers went unquestioned
now circling back to haunt you

o barrel chest
may you reach the end of your hollow self
you know that none had to die
you fucking know

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2022

let it rain

have you dared to declaim with your true face
have you seen how they inward flinch
have they made a monster of the hole in you

have you longed for truest validation
have their eyes doth pummelled your face to tears
have you hidden your tears under veil of rain

if only this was a happy song
if only we could fill our lungs again
if only for the air ‘tween the drops of rain

have you pulled truer weeds from the broken earth
have you doth counted and more so for praying
have you monstered after the four-leaf clover

have you truly known that you never belonged here
have you paid your respects to friend grief again
have you layed yourself down in the face of pain

if only this was a happy song
if only we could feel our lungs again
if only for the air ‘tween the drops of pain

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2022

chrysalis soul

how could one man
fill so much glorious space
with anything of consequence
i’m just a man

much rather be someone else
and somewhere i do not belong
than here like this
feeling my feet itching again

maybe someday this pain will be useful
maybe someday i’ll wish there was more
when i close my eyes for the last time
on the inhumanity of man

i live in a world of ghosts made of string
where capricious gods are the puppeteers
and i’ll hang myself from this vile paradigm
before it stiffs the ghost in me

i don’t need no special favour
just need to be anywhere but me
don’t need no whistling saviour
to save me from being a man
there’s no scribble to my quaver
just need to be anyone but here
don’t need no whistling saviour
i’m just one man

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2022

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

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // December’s Snow by Arthur Conan Doyle

The bloom is on the May once more,
The chestnut buds have burst anew;
But, darling, all our springs are o’er,
‘Tis winter still for me and you.
We plucked Life’s blossoms long ago
What’s left is but December’s snow.

But winter has its joys as fair,
The gentler joys, aloof, apart;
The snow may lie upon our hair
But never, darling, in our heart.
Sweet were the springs of long ago
But sweeter still December’s snow.

Yes, long ago, and yet to me
It seems a thing of yesterday;
The shade beneath the willow tree,
The word you looked but feared to say.
Ah! when I learned to love you so
What recked we of December’s snow?

But swift the ruthless seasons sped
And swifter still they speed away.
What though they bow the dainty head
And fleck the raven hair with gray?
The boy and girl of long ago
Are laughing through the veil of snow.

by ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE (1859-1930)
Public Domain Poetry