Tag Archives: Poetry

GUEST POST // Writing on the Train by Charles Joseph

it’s the sense of having nothing to do—
though surrounded by inspiration
conversations bombarding the ear
start an analyzation.
My thoughts becoming lamps hanging
in the obscure tunnel that i travel
with a hissing passion bringing me
to astonishment.
before my destination, I arrive at an idea sometimes
it waits for me—standing on the platform alone,
in the open air, where cold wind brings the echoes
the bench sitting in suspense, waiting for its purpose

by CHARLES JOSEPH
© All rights reserved 2022

dream caused by the fate of a plate spinning above a selection of stale pistachio baklava with a wasp buzzing around that i told sigmund freud about during our second session

just look at this zeppelin in the sky
it bears the burden of all my dreams
of clouds made from berries and cream
and coffins of cherries jubilee

it wobbles like a huge cosmic jelly
its five points thrumming with juicy flair
sugar patina wickers soft underbelly
its eyes cry diamond daggers for miles

thick nipples drip mint liquor and ganache
its genitals puffed up like salted pastry
the masterpiece of a mad confectioner
until someone pops it like yesterday’s gum!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

empty thus

bodhidharma stares at the wall
time ferments, goes sour like milk
it’s another air-raid warning

people go down to the shelter
people stare at a shabby wall
people drink up soured time

karma, you are a fucking bitch

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2023

aeternum vale

should you ever leave
all air will void from this room
all days will follow
& i won’t know what to be
this hell on earth behind thee

if i hold this space
& leave the light on for you
fain would you come home

should you not return
with hope or fire’s foreboding
into pinpricked night
would i not slingshot myself
to find you & bring you home

if i never pray
i might never say goodbye
fain never lose you

should i lose my way
ghost into pain with a smile
then remember me
bid thee well a dying sun
circle an emergent moon

if i plead the void
to swallow the void in me
fain would i be free

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // A Dirge. by Christina Georgina Rossetti

Why were you born when the snow was falling?
You should have come to the cuckoo’s calling,
Or when grapes are green in the cluster,
Or, at least, when lithe swallows muster
For their far off flying
From summer dying.

Why did you die when the lambs were cropping?
You should have died at the apples’ dropping,
When the grasshopper comes to trouble,
And the wheat-fields are sodden stubble,
And all winds go sighing
For sweet things dying.

by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI (1830-1894)
Public Domain Poetry