cold (boy in the grave)

what is boy to do when
the judge will not advocate
& silence is the crime

his death smacks heavenly sweet
honeyed thus for peace of mind
as the rest of life goes to pot
boy raises a poisoned chalice &
pleads for more hungarian wine

the bad man lashed & beat on him
enriched while boy had less to eat
a legal ward with no standing
but life, they say, can find a way
(tho’ god’s acre be down the street)

what is boy to do when
the judge does prevaricate
& silence is the crime

tho’ blood be often redder
bruises sting profoundly true
how could boy bear any more when
none would pluck this weight away
no reckoning hawk from the blue

his death shall taste bittersweet
at least it’s something left to eat
a boy full bellied on life now
sighs to emptied then lays he down
(for worms to feast in ‘neath the ground)

what is boy to do when
the judge chose to abdicate
& silence was the crime

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

GUEST POST // one flower left by Cassy Single

bombs fly & sirens sound
they think they scare us
buildings fall & fires burn
they think they’ve beaten us

propaganda, lies spread
like a game of whispers
they think they speak truth
no

their bombs are nothing
for every building they destroy
we build two more
the real truth

no matter what they try to take
we will never surrender our spirit
we will stand together
no matter what

as long as one flower remains
ukraine will live on

by CASSY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

lucy in the sky with rhinestones

rough diamonds that they are
with facets not yet shining
still spilling clumsy sun puppies
for easily amused yuppies

who are we to assign value
where detritus has accrued

wrap ’em all up in newspaper
alongside kale sandwiches
staled by yesterday’s news
stained with tomorrow’s clues

who are you to assign value
where truth’s bones have accrued

in seven days they’ll be polished
by bacon grease & oily lies
fakely shining like no tomorrow
like sun pups dead to further sorrow

who am i to assign value
where death & taxes have accrued

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // A Kiss. by Robert Herrick

What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve:
The sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.

by ROBERT HERRICK (1591-1674)
Public Domain Poetry

two years, eleven months, seventeen days

the black stains
of morning coffee
on a white tablecloth

others prefer fortune telling
with coffee grounds
but i believe in vapour
& its aerial butoh dance
above the cup’s abyss

forbearance sucks
& gravitas falls
on the white tablecloth

i see bare, broken twigs
against a blue sky
will this coffee be the only darkness
that fills me today
i take a sip, open my news feed

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2025