TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // The Stream’s Song by Lascelles Abercrombie

Make way, make way,
You thwarting stones;
Room for my play,
Serious ones.

Do you not fear,
O rocks and boulders,
To feel my laughter
On your broad shoulders?

So you not know
My joy at length
Will all wear out
Your solemn strength?

You will not for ever
Cumber my play:
With joy and son
I clear my way.

Your faith of rock
Shall yield to me,
And be carried away
By the song of my glee.

Crumble, crumble,
Voiceless things;
No faith can last
That never sings.

For the last hour
To joy belongs:
The steadfast perish,
But not the songs.

Yet for a while
Thwart me, O boulders;
I need for laughter
Your serious shoulders.

And when my singing
Has razed your quite,
I shall have lost
Half my delight.

 

by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE (1881-1938)
Public Domain Poetry

water supply (the rise and fall of jack & jill inc.)

jack and jill wanted to be good little entrepreneurs
so they went up the hill to sell a pail of water
but no coin was made ’cos no one wanted to climb
that big ass hill in the summer to buy water with a metallic aftertaste
that hadn’t been chilled or bottled or had a wedge of lime affixed to
so jack and jill came grumbling back down
and died in a cardboard hovel from dehydration and harsh market realities

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2016

Water Cure

“Drink.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Drink, I say! You look very thirsty.”

“But… Hey, what are you doing?!”

Streams of water pour on me. I try to face away… I try to cry foul… but my voice drowns in the streams.

“Drink!”

I splutter. I cough. A gray dusty clot, almost weightless, lays inside my empty head. Dehydrated words are tied in a bunch like Chinese tea.

“Drink!”

I choke. I’m full of water. The words start to spin in the whirlpool and swell. The words take shape and color. The gray dusty clot unfolds inside my head… blossoms… and slowly fills the entire space. Now there’s nothing except a big moist poem here. My head is full of the poem, like a tiny teapot with beautiful blooming tea.

“Well, my girl… Now… do you realize how much you were thirsty?”

“Screw you…”

I wipe my wet face and cuss mildly. She smiles and says something… but I don’t listen to her. I open my laptop. WP Admin, Posts, Add New…

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA 
© All rights reserved 2015

Love for Love

Why can’t you get it,
you weedy-brained gardener,
with a rusty can
dripping with dirty water
full of stinking pesticides?

I feed on poison.
My roots become sturdier.
I feed on poison.
My mucus becomes denser.
I feed on poison, dumbass!

You never got it,
you weedy-lived gardener.
The only poison
that’s mortiferous for me…
Pure water. (He had sweet brains.)

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

 

My special thanks to Tony Single
for his endless patience
and profound knowledge of irregular verbs!

My first (and unexpected) collaboration

It’s not a verse, actually. Rather, it’s a creative flow. It was started just out of the blue. I didn’t realize that we had started until the third strophe. It was an open start, and we decided to leave an open final because this dance can’t be finished…

Thank you, Kasey, for such an amazing experience! Will you dance with me again?

 

A DANCE

I’m like water. Water of life… Water of death… I’m just flowing and dissolving all that I meet. While you float into eternity in the currents of time, I’m the rocks beneath the surface. Silent, worn and still. I’m singing, I’m dancing, I’m playing with a pebble. I’m tickling your rocky heels and smoothing your rough pleats. Shadows waving over us as the wind dances with the tall grass along the shore, taming the sun’s heat. Earth’s ballet going unnoticed. It’s going unnoticed… We are involved in our dance. A passionate bolero is whirling us. A dance of Water and Stone. All other things don’t make sense. Hear the sounds of a soothing melody, so lovely and bright. Guiding us towards desires held tight. Somebody says that it’s a battle. A wave was broken, a rock was bitten… But it is only silly tattle. Moving to the rhythm of the currents, we’ve danced our way downstream. Polished enough to reflect her beauty back at her, we drift, soaked in moonlight. The rhythm becomes faster… the song becomes free… the brilliant variations, the giddy pirouettes. Enchanted moon looks down on our silhouettes. Spiraling into eternity, the sound echos through and through. Giving the greatest view, our movements were laid down within the stars…

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & KASEY STAFFORD (aka BASICAUDIO)
© All rights reserved 2014