bee the buzz
from Flora juices
Bee delighted about
intoxication.
Sip a lip the same
frame of forever.
bee filled with hop
budof hope & wonder
sought to fascinate
mundane pollinate.
Too bee sets shadow
seekless when Spring.
Bee mindful in offering
ambrosia cotton surround
Sound of solitude. bee life
the allergic unconscious.
by SPAHR PLOPS
© All rights reserved 2017
The night ward’s blue curtains that surround me drip colour and deceit—each and every pleated flute of cloth hiding some half-truths like the half-lives of atoms. Only here, the arithmetic surety of fission does not wish to match the nuclear chemistry of my blood’s transfusion.
The night nurse peeps in to assure me that blue is not all black, that red is not grey, that the colour of my skin does not reflect the colour of my life. I wish I could agree with her consolations.
Yards of white and blue linen that wrap my slow generous chill, know the real secret of my floating corpuscles—the flotsam larvae, their ancient silk that gently threads my nearly finished mummy.
Синие шторы ночной палаты, окружающие меня, сочатся цветом и обманом. Каждая плиссированная складка ткани скрывает полуправду – частицу правды, пережившую период полураспада, как атом. Полученный арифметический результат этого деления упрямо не вписывается в химическую формулу переливания моей крови.
Ночная сиделка заглядывает в палату. Она уверяет меня, что этот синий не совсем черный, этот красный – вовсе не серый, и что цвет моей кожи совсем не такой, как цвет моей жизни. Мне хочется верить ее словам.
Километры белого и синего льна укутывают мой вечный озноб, постигая сокровенную тайну дрейфующих лейкоцитов; их мертвые личинки прошивают меня насквозь невесомыми шелковыми нитями, превращая в настоящую мумию.
Poem by SUDEEP SEN
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017
imprisoned, prowling the floor of my mind
stumbling upon the bones of enigma
i’m slathered with stale plastic wrap
stamped with their foul expiry dates
my flesh, a slab of drab rump steak
it is but merely a showcase for
that stoned butcher with the rusty knife
who’s ready to make the final cut
my zombie heart says, “amen”
but they all say, “no, so be it”
my limbs emboldened beyond the cage
like dreams, their grasp is forced back in
imprisoned, prowling the floor of my mind
tumbling over the stones of stigma
my paunch splits wide, a bottomless trap
and i’m falling right there through red-hot grates
my guts are raw from crying inside
from teardrops frizzling away all hope
a burnt out skin chafed by verities
i’m oozing pus, bleeding oneness out
my slavish soul fronts a lynching bee
my cries for mercy thread between blank brows
only mocking echoes dare answer me
and resort to rend free has been abandoned by thee
imprisoned, prowling the floor of my mind
fumbling within the groans of maligna
i’m getting a wanton, roundhouse slap
from the final set of closing gates
by MADAM MARMOSET, TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017
Erm… hullo there. (This is rather awkward…)
Dear Reader, the stuff that was originally posted here has been removed.
We have done this because said stuff has since been included in one of our published books. We hope you’ll believe us when we say we’re not trying to be stingy. No, this has been done to honour the people who have already spent their hard-earned money on our eBook creations.*
If, however, for some reason you’re unable to buy one of our books, and feel you’ll die without seeing this piece of writing, then please contact us via admin@unbolt.me. We won’t allow our Dear Readers to fade away in the dark. We’ll send you the piece in question, and it will be absolutely free. All you need do is ask.
* Of course, we would be like two happy puppies if you too decided to buy one of our books.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2008-2018
Erm… hullo there. (This is rather awkward…)
Dear Reader, the stuff that was originally posted here has been removed.
We have done this because said stuff has since been included in one of our published books. We hope you’ll believe us when we say we’re not trying to be stingy. No, this has been done to honour the people who have already spent their hard-earned money on our eBook creations.*
If, however, for some reason you’re unable to buy one of our books, and feel you’ll die without seeing this piece of writing, then please contact us via admin@unbolt.me. We won’t allow our Dear Readers to fade away in the dark. We’ll send you the piece in question, and it will be absolutely free. All you need do is ask.
* Of course, we would be like two happy puppies if you too decided to buy one of our books.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017-2018
unbolt me 