Tag Archives: Poetry

Saudade ~ The one terminally ill collaboration

unbolt…
I dream of you and wake up with a jolt…
My body gleams over two hundred volts…
And though I pray each lonely night for not to soil it…
It means I’ve used my electric blanket as a toilet…

unbolt says:
Oh… a poor dirty blanket… Does it mean that I’m your worst nightmare?

raycabiro says:
Ohh, it’s just unfortunate that your name rhymes with volt so I had no choice but to make it about weeing on an electric blanket… Maybe next time I could think of something a bit more savoury, maybe about a colt that moults.

WOW! Such a lovely tribute for a girl… Weeing on an electric blanket and mangy colts. I can bet you’re full of envy now, aren’t you? Yes, guys, I had no choice. Our collaboration was inevitable – like an annual moult. Thank you, Ramon! I adore you… You’re completely awesome!

Oh… last but not least! My special thanks to ARTISH for giving me permission to use her drawings. Thank you very much, Tish!

She always sits alone at the corner table
And smokes cheap cigarettes with a yellow label
She clicks idly on an email attachment
That tells a short story of a sexual harassment
The stale smoke lingers with a sense of unease
The same sense she’s got of her venereal disease

She’s the last vestal of this perverted Parthenon
She scrolls her friend list… the damned deceitful pantheon
Each face hides a secret of a sordid infection
The virus that’s inside her is the germ of affection
The memories all linger but her future self fades
She never even loved him, now she’s probably got AIDS

She’s just a Petri dish with a collection of human filth
Her verminous spongy womb is like the land is in good tilth
She’s riddled with the maladies that murder and smother
Her only hope was that the viruses would kill one another
But the one thing they left out from her medical flow chart
Was the worst disease of all, how he was breaking her heart

A screensaver fades… a carefree laughing girl at a tender age…
She stubs out a cigarette and goes slowly to the tiny stage
Each face in the crowd tells a story of shame
Where once they burned her records now they’re singing her name
Her introduction music starts to vibrate the stylus
And with their love in her heart, she’ll beat this sex virus

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & RAYCABIRO
© All rights reserved 2015

GUEST POST // Lullaby by Gregory Waits, Jr.

jag_lullaby_med

“Lullaby” by Jaguarwoman

inside a maze
the insomniacs play
for just an hour more, no more
just an hour, no more.
stealing night gazes
peeling songs from leaves
for just an hour, no more
just an hour, no more.
a twinkling star of love,
kisses and hugs, “shoo-be-doo-be-love
za-zibby-dwiggy-ba-da-doo-be-alright
so they could feel the calm in the air of night
close your eyes, no need to fight, yes
embrace this cool nighty-night and
you can always call me
when you can’t sleep at night.”

by GREGORY WAITS JR.
© All rights reserved 2015

GUEST POST // Tessellate by Obsidian Visionary

Change your very being to blend in
Not be colorful while the rest have pale skin
Ignore the crow’s calling to sleep with doves
Maybe then you will find true love.

Love of being accepted into to the idea of Propriety,
Bearing the dark mark of a disheveled society
Vanish into the constant pattern of in-numerous nobody’s
Trapped in the array, mind fervently fuzzy.

Cut the sides, smooth the edges
To fit right in, resignation you must pledge.
The fear of being an outcast far too great
Sink into the mould as triangles tessellate.

Is this the wondrous utopia you had dreamt ?
An atrocious life where you are unnaturally bent.
Maybe you were never meant to fit the “mould”
But instead to be your true motley of silver and gold.

by OBSIDIAN VISIONARY
© All rights reserved 2015

Toleration

A butterfly dies
with wings putting together
Palms of a prayer
Confession and repentance
of a happy careless life

An ant who devours
death and flesh, feelers and legs
never touches wings
never cuts off a prayer
It’s the greatest blasphemy

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

a Walkover

Poetry can touch
only milk-and-water girls! –
Would you bet on it?

Hey, sure thing! – OK…
Can you give me a crayon,
moron? – What?! – I won!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015