Uncle, tell me a bedtime story!
Promise me sleep right after that?
Bearded myths say there’s a purgatory
Right after death, right after begat.
Its goddamned inmates are forever doomed to
Never succeed in finding ease of breath,
Getting sick with chronic, emotional flu,
Insides torn ‘tween flame life and ice death.
No way, Iron Uncle, do they still have human pith!
Godspeed, Tiny Tin. People are just a silly ancient myth.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018
Dear Readers,
It looks like we’re pretty desperate. For the sake of poetry, we’ll readily bear anything. The last round brought us an invasion of cockroaches. We wonder what will happen this time…
A bout of saporous lolly acne? A rain of worthless bitcoin that darkens the skies for months? Our legs dancing an endless Eskimo jig? It’ll be worse than the ten plagues of Egypt from the Old Testament!
Still, this won’t stop us from providing you, our Dear Readers, with a safe haven for your collaborative efforts. “Collaborative efforts?” we hear you say. “What collaborative efforts? And to what purpose?” Well, let us fill you in…
1) We provide the first line of a poem.
2) You write the next line.
3) You submit your line via the comments section of this very post.
4) We pick the line we like most and add it to the poem.
5) We publish the first and second lines in a follow-up post.
6) Steps 2-5 are repeated until we have a masterpiece!
See? It’s the very definition of supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! So, have fun! But, please, whatever you do, don’t fling us in dat dere briar patch! We can handle pretty much anything but not rejection!
She looks in the book like into a mirror
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018
Dear Patrons (current, future, and not-on-your-life), we’ve been hard at work behind the scenes on our next big project. Sure, we like pretending we’re two wags who couldn’t give a hoot about our responsibilities, but that simply isn’t true. In fact, we’ve been sweating over a few things, and are determined to please you with at least three new books this year!
(Yes, we’re hopeless optimists who cannot accurately count the number of hours in a day. Sometimes it’s twenty-six, and sometimes it’s only nineteen. Anyway, we won’t give up. Tick tock tick tock…)
Today, we want to show you a cover idea that we had for our first project which will be a new poetry collection. We were all fired up over this idea, but when Tony put it together, we quickly realised that it wouldn’t be a good fit and discarded it unanimously.
However, you needn’t think that the image itself was pure crap. (Of course, we wouldn’t be offended if you did.) Take a look over at our Patreon page. Form your own opinion. And don’t worry, entry is free and the exit is too. If you’re curious to see what the cover for our new poetry collection WON’T be, then scratch that itch!
(Yup, this is another pathetic attempt to lure you to our Patreon page and panhandle for more pelf.)
PS: Please feel free to blame the title on Tati. She tried to explain to Tony about ‘Чудище обло, озорно, огромно, стозевно и лаяй’ but he was way too busy to listen to her. (Actually, he was just being a little dense, but let’s not tell anyone about that!)
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018
it is noisy with whoopee at the bar
it is hot with tamale and saucy with noodle
air thick with ciggy smoke mixed with cheap jokes
yeah, take another toke to forget you’re stone broke
the bar counter shrine is hungering for blood
the bar counter priestess is offering free ribs
heretic heads adorn the timber door stud
and chalices are hoisted over manly beard-bibs
no matter where you go, there you are
no matter when or how, your whole kit and caboodle
you would blindly revoke with a pig in a poke
yeah, fake another hoke to forget you’re stone broke
the bar counter butcher is washing hands in the mud
the bar counter baron is pushing for first dibs
a hangman’s noose dangles from the withered redbud
and malice does roister over the barrow and crib
a battered jukebox gives you a nasty jar
a wooden mug bites your thumb with a sharp toodle
you get sober and woke, and you cast off your yoke
tho’ nothing can ever cloak the fact you’re stone broke
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018
Just jabbering. Beating a rhythm. Messing with common sense.
Murdering a language… grammatically semi-dense.
A holy fool…
Allowing unallowable. Well… omissible… fuck it!
Set punctuation marks! Correct my torn jeans and my sanskrit!
A holy fool…
Don’t listen to me, please! Don’t call my bluff! Don’t yield to my magic!
It’ll not be my blame if you hear something essential and tragic.
A holy fool…
God forbid! Something that you were always afraid to say.
Oops… me and my potty mouth… I put my foot in it… hey!
A holy fool…
Healthy people shrug shoulders… a set of words isn’t usable.
Are you sick? Do you think that my words are excusable?
A holy fool…
There are people… they hear perfectly… how a heart talks to a heart.
Well… Putting on my horn-rimmed glasses. Just wanna look more smart…
TONY: Well, I have no idea.
TATI: Well, why am I not surprised?
TONY: Jabbering. Holy fools. Glasses. What does it all mean?
TATI: The thing that you sometimes put on your nose is called ‘glasses’. ‘Jabbering’ is talking in a rapid, excited, and often incomprehensible way.
TONY: And ‘holy fools’?
TATI: ‘Holy fools’… Hmmm… Foolishness for Christ. Are you familiar with this term?
TONY: Of course I am. I used to engage in such foolishness. I just wasn’t sure if this is initially what you meant.
TATI: Yes, this is what I meant.
TONY: Okay, so is this poem ‘Horn-rimmed glasses’ a commentary on religion?
TATI: Of course no! I used ‘holy fools’ in a figurative sense.
TONY: So who are the ‘holy fools‘ in this poem?
TATI: People, who aren’t afraid to be themselves. Who aren’t afraid to express their feelings and thoughts openly. Who aren’t afraid to go against the mainstream.
TONY: Ah, I see! These are the people that are thought of as ‘holy fools’ by the rest of society, and all because they refuse to conform.
TATI: Yes, but it isn’t aggressive provocation. It’s not an open protest. They just can’t live any other way.
TONY: Which is what you mean by the line: ‘There are people… they hear perfectly… how a heart talks to a heart.’
TATI: Yes. Empathy. Compassion. Acceptance.
TONY: Wow. I’m reading this poem again and… well, it makes so much sense to me! Tati, this might be one of your best!
TATI: Really? But you said it has no sense.
TONY: I think I was just a little too dense to get it at first.
TATI: Maybe it was me who was too messy in expressing my thoughts?
TONY: Perhaps that’s the point. By being messy you were sidestepping all the rules of conventional poetry, and forging a path all your own. You were being a ‘holy fool’. So cool!
TATI: Do you praise me? Oh my!
TONY: Totes! I wanna be your acolyte!
TATI: Okey dokey. It’s easy. Take these glasses and tell me what you’re thinking. Try it now.
TONY: Erm…
TATI: Come on! I haven’t got all day!
TONY: I’m thinking!
TATI: Think out loud!
TONY: I’m thinking that these glasses make me look like Elton John, and appear smarter than I actually am!
TATI: Hmmm… Are you sure you put the glasses on correctly? Not upside down?
TONY: Well, isn’t upside down the correct way to wear them? It means I’m doing things differently then, which is entirely the point of your poem!
TATI: No… see, that’s the tricky part. Pride. Hubris. Have you felt sometimes that you’re better than other people?
TONY: Shamefully, yes. But only sometimes.
TATI: So, put the glasses on the right way. Don’t try to be better than the others.
TONY: Oh wow! Now I look like Bono! Is that a good or a bad thing?
TATI: Are you saying that Bono is merely Elton standing on his head?
TONY: I’m not sure what I’m meant to be saying.
TATI: See? You’re getting it!
TONY: Am I?
TATI: Don’t strain so hard, Tony. You do not need to take yourself seriously.
TONY: But…
TATI: Don’t blame me if you hear something essential and tragic. It’s your choice, not mine.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018
unbolt me 