Toleration

A butterfly dies
with wings putting together
Palms of a prayer
Confession and repentance
of a happy careless life

An ant who devours
death and flesh, feelers and legs
never touches wings
never cuts off a prayer
It’s the greatest blasphemy

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

The Odd Days & Life of Elatha Jarlath McGhille. Part 0. Prologue ~ The one came in from the cold collaboration

I love collaborations.
I do love collaborations.

LOL! Deja vu, yes?

Well, guys, I know, the less I write, the less mistakes I make. I just want to say that I’m happy to show you my second collaboration with Greg. No, I haven’t learnt more about Greg during the last month. The color of his eyes and his blood type stay a big mystery for me still. And his zodiac sign too But, do you know, I don’t care! His sparkling talent and his twisted imagination are enough for me. Just relax… take it easy… and have great fun with us!

celtic arm band tat tattoo 02

he was taught to do multitude ingenious things
carving fine soap bubbles and beading tissue wings
…an inevitable interruption of such teachings
midnight phantasmagoria, suspected visions

as barking wings crawl along his wall as shadows.
fright? no. impressed… then comes the invitations –
join to the Halloween party in the gingerbread house!
guest stars are Koschei the Immortal and Mickey Mouse!

no. impressed… he throws the flier into the bin
and greets an old banshee, sipping acrid gin
“Aha! Haha!” she yells then claps her hands
a moment of mental illumination perhaps. She stands

then begins to sing songs off and on key surprisingly
Rock&Roll-Old Soul-R&B… then empties her bags for him to see
an ‘A-minor’ whistle, two vials with scalding tears, false nails,
a half-finished piece of knitting, a book with Celtic fairy tales…

“Where are my glasses?” “On your head… shoo!” (the barking wings
try to filch a clew from the bag) “Shoo!! I’ll clip your hamstrings!”
She clips at the air with her scissors,
like a pair of hand hedge trimmers,

“WTF!” yelled the barking wing
Her response, “You’re gonna have ta learn ta respect somethin’.”
He laughs up his sleeve at this innocent bustle
they adore each other, it’s a friendly hustle…

“Hey, guys!” And all of a sudden… a picture becomes indistinct…
White coats… and an agitated voice, “Fetch a doctor! He winked!”
Alarms sound. Kisses in stitches on rolling stretchers. She stares.
Returns wink and smile. “Tell ’em don’t mess up my hair.”

…this case was unique, doctors couldn’t understand
why this young guy doesn’t want to leave his dreamland.
This old harridan is a fatal case, yes, but this boy…
His coma seems so artificial. It looks like a ploy!

He just doesn’t want to live… and his happy pale face looks uncanny.
A medical ventilator is switched on. “Hey! I’m home, granny!”
With a crooked smile, a grimace, a hug and a kiss
She says to him, “Finally an end to all of this.”

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & GREGORY WAITS JR.
© All rights reserved 2015

GUEST POST // Rats with Wings by Field of thorns

My apologies to you, for I stole you away
In the dead of the night, whilst you did slumber
In a semiconscious state
I stole you away, in the dead of the night
In the cloak of the rain, and of the thunder
We made our escape, is it any wonder?
I saw how you looked at me, and I too was looking at you
I know I took you without your permission
But, I saw how you were looking at me.

Do not be alarmed, you are my very last part, last part
Last part, of my precious machine
My precious thought machine
A machine made just for two
Where you can be me, and I can be you
In exchange for your thoughts, I give you my heart
You are my very last part, holding the key
The key to the heart, of my precious thought machine.

Close your eyes and let my thoughts in
And a new beginning, will begin, and begin
Don’t be afraid, like the others before
I have given you the key to my heart, my heart
I saw how you were looking at me
And I too was looking at you
You are the very last part, holding the key
The key to the heart, of my precious thought machine.

We have arrive at the shore, the beautiful shore
Where things are pretty and dreamy once more
Pungent smell of camphor wafts through the house
Covering the fragrance of death and decay
Here, we are alone at the shore, just you and I
Where you can be me, and I can be you
I saw how you looked at me, and I too was looking at you
In this lovely house for two
My lovely precious thought machine
A machine made just for two.

Please do not think of escape
No crying, scratching, screaming or such
There is nowhere to run, and no way out
I’ve locked all the windows, and all the doors
Of my precious thought machine, my machine by the shore
Let us sit quietly enjoying each other’s thoughts
In exchange for your thoughts, I give you my heart
You are my very last part, holding the key
The key to the heart, of my precious thought machine.

The gulls in a frenzy upon my return to the shore
How they scream, how they squawk
Louder than the waves knocking upon the door
Who knew my gulls were of the carnivorous sort
How lucky for me, my rats with wings, how they eat, how the eat
They love me and the extra parts that I bring
What they leave behind, sinks to the bottom of the ocean deep
Where things are pretty and dreamy once more.

In time, I know you’ll find I’m perfect for you
In our magic precious thought machine for two
Where you can be me, and I can be you
Just follow my lead and all will be true
I saw how you looked at me, and I too was looking at you
I know I took you without your permission
But, I saw how you were looking at me
In exchange for your thoughts, I give you my heart
You are my very last part, holding the key
The key to the heart, of my precious thought machine.

 

by FIELD OF THORNS
© All rights reserved 2015

Two-winged

The first one lost his wing in a fire.
The second one – because of the car crash.
They both were ordered to retire.
They could rest and get the layoff pay in cash.

But… Every, every fucking day
The amputees hug and become dipterous.
They soar in the sky, keep an eye, curse and pray…
They’re on duty. Guardian angels never are ‘EX -’

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014