the spark of life (headshot)

fear the gawking dead
they look without seeing
but it’s the gawking alives
who see without looking
that are way scarier

so kill me if you please
headshot me into a sense of life
trigger my release

force is no answer
raised fists only make more
and reason is empty talk
i can no longer bear this
please bury me under a socle

so kill me if you please
headshot me into a sense of life
trigger my release

and if i do arise
from the grave pyres of alives
i pledge to rub my wild eyes
then look you full on face
not eat it, only feast my ravenous heart

so kill me if you please
headshot me into a sense of life
trigger my release

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

barefoot rendezvous

i kiss the road with my bare feet
the ground’s womb heat my sole to keep
i am the lover, it the bed sheet
i imprint upon reality’s sleep

i make love in gentle dust
with intuition, shuffle and brush
a happenstance witness, stray wind’s gust
it scarpers in a flustered rush

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

ACROSTIC POETRY // Droid Antediluvian

Perambulation is something that featured a lot in Iron Uncle’s
Upbringing. His travelling oilcan never once dried up.
Rarely did his joints give out or his suspension develop clanky carbuncles.
Geez, he skipped up hill and down dale like a pumped-up pup!
And did you know he could bench press a thousand Tiny Tins if he really wanted to?
Tinderellas were thrilled with his seductive cast-iron buns.
Oh, if only he could return to those halcyon days and youth anew,
Rekindle what used to be instead of chased for conversion by rumpty nuns.
Years roll past like parts on a conveyor belt, and rust never sleeps.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018