wakensong

if theirs was the path not followed
then how could we have ever known
of their hopes veiled, atwist in shame
yet now we know
departing eden saved our lives
from the tyrant we thought we knew
meta alpha spitting swords of flame

pious choirs cleaved to the throne
he churned their psalms into a voice of ruin
his shadow sloped through every heartland
so now we know
that whenever he swore to bury us
each variance of will collapsed their brains
they tore themselves on the teeth that hound

we truly blest have truly moved on
presuming to carry gentle our selves
’til we wake to say the soft parts loud
it’s all we know
that if you’re enough then i am too
so will you be my hello for the last time
and tell everyone i love them

Osmose

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2022

homer shrugged

so the strongman fashioned another straw man
tilted at fabrications of discourse and taboo
pain, meanwhile, yielded to another hurricane
a hierarchy that deigns to explain away my own

i’m forever to be grateful or else don’t you know
they stranded themselves on virtue without a mountain
pontificated o’er the ears and eyes they’d shat upon
that were fatally struck dumb by the gift of tongues

but i’ll sing it from the depths don’t you know
of all i think i know, of all i think i don’t
maybe i’ll live and die like this alone
but i’ll not die on my knees in order to appease

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2022

dog in the manger

no one cares in this world of tyrants
of sycophants and bended knee
how deep goes the well inside of me
and if my bucket is full of holes

the finger of god daubed my soul o’er pain
and it’s making me want to dissolve again
into blest relief from his violent ways
away from nephilim and the sons of earth

i swear the day will come
when y’all will forget about me
for too long have i given life
the benefit of the doubt

the ox and horse cannot eat the hay
dead baby jesus bestrews the manger
a doggerel gospel for the hateful pious
and mongrels returning to their vomit

i swear the day will come
when y’all had better forget about me
for too long have i given life
the benefit of the doubt

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2022

PERFECTION IN ACTION // Hard to be Turd

I lifted the seat lid and peeped inside.

“Do you really think you’re the main cheese here?” I asked, shaking my fist into the darkness.

“Yes.” The voice was calm, deep. “I was here before your Father was a tiny seed.”

“But you’re poo?” I’d meant that as a statement of fact. “How could you exist before Father? It isn’t possible.”

“I’m the Perfect and Mighty Poo. The Cycle of Life. The Alpha and Omega.”

I shrugged, and then flushed.

Someone knocked. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you occupied?”

“Nah.” I wiped my hands then reached for the door. “I’m done.”

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // The Gods Are Dead? by William Ernest Henley

The gods are dead? Perhaps they are! Who knows?
Living at least in Lempriere undeleted,
The wise, the fair, the awful, the jocose,
Are one and all, I like to think, retreated
In some still land of lilacs and the rose.

Once high they sat, and high o’er earthly shows
With sacrificial dance and song were greeted.
Once . . . long ago. But now, the story goes,
The gods are dead.

It must be true. The world, a world of prose,
Full-crammed with facts, in science swathed and sheeted,
Nods in a stertorous after-dinner doze!
Plangent and sad, in every wind that blows
Who will may hear the sorry words repeated:-
‘The Gods are Dead!’

by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY (1849-1903)
Public Domain Poetry