snowfall
shrouded the roofs
festooned with icicles
antennas’ calvary crosses
preaching
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2026
Tag Archives: Writings
GUEST POST // Tairngreacht by Whitecatgrove
The last hum of summer — I hunger
for more, a kinder year when all is not
withered on the vine. The burning boats
are not a kind sun, the wildfires are not
the butterfly migration. The cup
poured out again, by an unjust king
emptied and spent on wasted earth. Red
the riders to the house of red, red
the naked spirit who knocks on the door.
What a time to live — seeing a myth
paid in full, embodied and poured out
in a sea without fish, a summer
without fruit, a land without justice.
by WHITECATGROVE
© All rights reserved 2026
Share this:
cults & culpability
lo, seeker of transcendence
in a failed, godless universe
lapsarian in the silence
will you yet yield to the blame
outside the tyrant’s garden
of angels clouding like locusts
where an arch snake was man’s spar
their blame impugns to swarm you
but consciousness & conscience
have never been the same thing
so pocket each & every tooth
when they cry “bend” to every “no”
when their fists try to make it so
however pious they may cry
how can you ever render blind
to gaps they love upon your smile
to the contusions on your mind
in light of false providence
outside a garden not your own
how fatherless the universe
how beaten down to the ground
but intention & consequence
are hardly ever the same thing
pocket each & every tooth
when they cry “bend” to every “no”
when their fists try to make it so
in a rudderless universe
outside a garden long disowned
remember those who fought well
against all tyrants & their ilk
honour those maligned as fallen
those fallen long before your time
& those fallen in the here & now
in this lost autumn of your soul
transcendence & obedience
never count as the same thing
so pocket each & every tooth
when they cry “bend” to every “no”
when their fists try to make it so
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025
Share this:
overcooked
there’s a flame in the heart of mankind
that time & tide long to extinguish
from the first fires of the cavemen
to the rockets of dim oligarchs
the torches along the tower walk
a monk’s passage towards the heavens
from the gloom of the middle ages
to supposedly more enlightened times
if we cannot adapt
then we are cooked
all the tines in our guts
how are we not forked
a torch is lit in olympia
an eternal flame recalls the war
nothing has changed through the course of time
just the way in which we’ve stored the launch codes
an appetite for self-destruction
burns within the desire to live
the heart of al dente common sense
3-star michelin vaut le voyage
if we will not adapt
then we are royally cooked
all of time in the guts
how are we not forked
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025
Share this:
TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Ode To Man. by Thomas Frederick Young
A man is not what oft he seems,
On this terrestrial sphere,
No pow’r to wield, no honor’d place,
Oft curb his spirit here.
He knows not what within him lies,
Until his pow’rs be tried,
And when for them some use is found,
They spring from where they hide,
To startle and to puzzle him,
Who never knew their force,
Because his unfreed spirit kept
A low and shackl’d course.
Dishearten’d and despairing, he
Had often sigh’d alone,
Not thinking that in other ways
His spirit might have grown.
Not thinking that another course,
Which needed pluck and vim,
Might raise his drowning spirit high,
And teach it how to swim;
To battle with the rolling tide,
That hurries onward men,
And raise his head above the waves,
That come and go again.
by THOMAS FREDERICK YOUNG (1892-1940)
Public Domain Poetry
unbolt me 