Tag Archives: Writings

a Portrait

‘Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar…’ I smiled at the portrait on the wall and threw a butt into the ashtray. It was 4.12 pm. Mr.Brainwash was late.

‘It is just the doldrums, my dear… Your artistic flair thrives; you just have to sacrifice some habitual pleasures for the sake of it.’

I would spit in his face but my good education forbids my spitting on portraits, and this ugly daub takes advantage of this fact unscrupulously! Small, funny antics can fill life with wonder…
I was daydreaming about this impudent portrait gliding down to the courtyard and didn’t hear the door creak open.

‘Good afternoon, my dear! Oh… Did you smoke in here? I told you! Don’t do it!’

Wow… He was angry. His halo became dirty-brown with yellow clots. It was really nasty. Mr.Brainwash was yelling, when suddenly I understood that this would be my last seance with him. ‘You have to sacrifice some habitual pleasures for the sake of it…’ To hell with that! I don’t want to give up my pleasures!

The first bullet was for Mr.Brainwash. The second bullet was for his talkative portrait… Sometimes a gun is just a gun!

Do you remember who said that?

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

My special thanks to Cyan Ryan
for the grammar corrections and improvements on this essay!

a Word

…like a heavy stone, a word.
It is difficult for my parlance.
Because in my cozy and dumb world
I use as a rule—to be silence.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

the Viper

It is a clutter in my room.
It is pitch darkness in my shed.
And like a fetus inside a womb
The viper curled up on my bed.

Its black forked tongue, long and thin…
I never tell this. I elide.
One hundred vipers bite my skin.
But only one can bite inside.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

Books say lies

Books say lies. TV’s untrue.
People are deceiving you.
Style is cute, style is rude…
It’s unimportant. They delude.

You change a channel, rend a page.
You smile and try to hide your rage.
But comes a flash you can’t surmount.
You burst… You get away to Mount.

White noise can purge your littery mind.
It’s a way to feel strong wings behind.
Life fills your body drop by drop.
You are revived by your top.

You can smile. You can fly.
You can forgive me for my lie…

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

I don’t know

I don’t know
I exist or no.
All my senses turned into white ash.
Many years ago
I refused this show,
Threw away my passions like unneeded trash.

I smashed up all mirrors,
I killed viewers and hearers,
I put my gun under my head instead of cozy pillows.

I don’t know
I’m alive or no.
All my cells encrusted with sediment and rust.
I didn’t mark a foe,
I didn’t forecast a blow.
And now I disremembered about the notion of ‘trust’.

I smashed up all mirrors,
I killed viewers and hearers,
I put my gun under my head instead of cozy pillows.

…When I inhale this purple mist
Dead senses start to dance a twist
And I’m ready to stop my run
And hide my gun.
But zombies here. I hear a snigger.
I must exhale. And pull the trigger…

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014