TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Song by Thomas Runciman

You who know what easeful arms
Silence winds about the dead,
Or what far-swept music charms
Hearts that were earth-wearied;

You who know – if aught be known
In that everlasting Hush
Where the life-born years are strewn,
Where the eyeless ages rush, –

Tell me, is it conscious rest
Heals the whilom hurt of life?
Or is Nirvana undistressed
E’en by memory of strife?

 

by THOMAS RUNCIMAN (1841-1909)
Public Domain Poetry

Open-Source Poetry Four #3

Our Dearest Readers,

We have an important question for you. It’s so important that we must lean close and ask it in hushed tones. You’d best lean in too, lest you miss it! Ready?

BOO!

Okay, are you scared now? Yes? Now you know how we felt. We were so scared when we saw how many amazing submissions there were for the previous instalment of Open-Source Poetry! How on earth were we going to pick just one to add to this new lyrical masterpiece? It wasn’t going to be easy.

So, after a great many incantations over blood-soaked prayer beads ripped from the entrails of a satanically depressed gerbil, we eventually settled on Munira Ezzi’s sparkling contribution. Well… we’re kidding, of course. How could we rely on silly bloody incantations? Only a coin toss would do. (Although we do find it rather strange that the results matched.) Anyway, her lines felt like such a logical progression from what had gone before, so we ended up agreeing with the aforementioned incantations and coin toss outcome. How could we not use her contribution?

Now, if you would like us to agonise over your contributions for the next part of this poem in a similar fashion, we suggest you pay attention to the following rules:

1) Read the current version of this communal poetic effort below, and marvel at how scarily good it is (or is that goodily scary?). Then submit your own line or two for our consideration.
2) If we like your line (or two) the best, we’ll add it to the poem, then we’ll publish said result in a follow-up post.
3) Then you keep submitting frightening wordage aplenty in an attempt to chill us to the bone some more!
4) And so the whole process of submission and rejection is repeated until we finally have a horrifying new masterpiece!

PS: For those who may still be recovering from their New Years hangover, we remind them of the topic to the poem… It’s in the style of a good ol’ horror movie!

Вензель

hm, what should I draw?
maybe a hairy monster with a furry claw
or a demon crow that sticks in the craw
or a huge bloodstained saw

hm, what should I write?
maybe a slow growl will stir up a fright
or a girl will be twirled by a meat-eating kite
or grandma pole-dances in a bikini too tight

Вензель_нижний

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA, TONY SINGLE, TOMAS MANKUS & MUNIRA EZZI
© All rights reserved 2020

the day after

there are many things
i just cannot comprehend
why give them head space
why enshrine them in my heart
go ahead and call me fool

i wish only peace
serenity for the soul
merely do my best
i don’t need to beat a drum
nor have any notice me

someone conquers mars
someone sells bad bananas
someone invents worth
none of this matters to me
remember? i am a fool

you can laugh at me
but when you’ve become bankrupt
(i don’t mean money)
i’ll be gone, so far away
basking in another day

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

snowed in

you wake at night
when first snow has tucked the city in
and neon glow has plucked glam rings
into the supercilious dark

you see outside
something shaggy and stark wants in
presses craggy nose, sharp tightening
unto the chilled window pane

you rush through the door
jump up bare to the porch sans clogs
and december like a debauched dim dog
licks your cheek with frosty tongue

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

circle without end

i am shape, formerly human
a frosting sphere beneath heaven’s blear
insensate in the wake of chased dreams
waking to be, to be held by you

but you don’t care for all that i’ve shared
(in truth) do you
taking only what i can ill afford to give
yea, lay me down, do trollen sigh
into the bracement of dip and rime

hoar am i as the sea
you always said something about completing me
professed to crest open roil with gladness
but have you ever

i’m the end you always supposed me to be
and you’ll always be the end point of me
we reek of codependency
yea, lay me down, do trollen cry
cover thon over these lovers’ crimes

tease me with your lips, plunder me
sweet talk me again and again
squeeze me with your hips, squander me
junk me gently with the pain

yea, lay me down, do trollen fly
decrease the contours of my decline
was there ever a beginning to all of this
you’ll always be the end point of me
we reek of codependency

hoar am i as the sea
something about you completing me
and cresting the open roil with gladness
but have you ever

yea, lay me down, do trollen hie
bury me gone, away from all time
you won’t care for all that i’ve shared
(in truth) will you
taking only what i can ill afford to give

i am shape, formerly human
a thing to be abraded with use
an asset, a liability
you’ll always get to choose

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019