Tag Archives: Writings

expiration date (copeland can’t cope)

the oncologist called
said the tumour was benign
i returned to my laptop
an open tab beckoned me to proceed
looks like i’ll be transitioning
from mortal fear back to dull career then
but, damn, even if the tumour’s benign
why should i continue this drawn out
malignant metastasizing existence?
so i click ‘yes’ and proceed
to my merciful mail order death
by stoning and virus coroning
they ask for the expiry date and cvv
i type six six six and laugh

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021

Covid Diary pp. 26-27

Dear Diary,

I will not thank God for CCTV. CCTV is the Devil’s work. Or God’s work. Perhaps they’ve collaborated on my humiliation.

Every day I enter the shit hole that is my work space and plop my bottom into a saggy arsed chair before a bank of dull, flyspecked screens. Maybe some people feel like God (or the Devil?) when they’re spying on and controlling human beings from such a vantage point, but I sincerely and wholeheartedly hate this. I would not be here during a pandemic if my job hadn’t been deemed an ‘essential service’.

Honestly, why do people scratch their genitals when they’re the only ones in the lift? Why do they check for nostril hairs in the mirror? Why do they do this whenever they damn well feel like it? And do they think if they spoil the air that their mask will make them invisible to whomever enters the lift next? I don’t know what they’re eating but it smells worse than my own ungodly clam after a session on the exercise bike. I just don’t need this shit.

It’s clear that they’re not computer scientists, aeronautics engineers or high powered executives. They’re human-sized babies. Frankly, they can’t even open a packet of potato crisps without committee approval. And the aforementioned masks? Don’t get me started on the frigging masks! Those thin strips of fabric deprive their tiny brains of oxygen and common sense. They end up with nothing in their heads but a basket of fucks not given. What other explanation could there be for their flagrant disregard for my territory?

Anyway, it may be a minor point to them but not to me. They’re always mucking shit up and I’m forever doomed to supervise it. The best place for my shapeshifting is in the lift, so how am I supposed to bear this ignominy? It’s enough to make you howl in despair…

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021

PERFECTION IN ACTION // Cut Off

I used to be yakuza but not anymore. I was kicked out because of a tattoo.

I wanted to compose a tribute for the Oyabun, a haiku to celebrate his heroic exploits and boundless charisma. Endowed with this as a tattoo, I would be showing him the gravity of my devotion, my unquestioning firmness to serve him unto death.

Unfortunately, my handwriting sucks so the tattooist misread the haiku. Instead of the kanji for ‘handsome’ he tattooed the kanji for ‘unpleasant’. You can see how the fault is mine.

Or maybe the Oyabun didn’t like me showing him my balls?

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

regret

heed the silence that follows
truer than any promise made
the sound and fury of a hidden life
you cannot dream this into submission

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

100 WORD SKITTLE // Bookmark Me

Folks think it’s weird when a bookmark costs more than the book itself, but how can I deny myself this little whim? The more expensive the demarcation, the better I like it. Anyway, words are cheap.

It’s the only reason I carry a book in my bag. Whenever I open it and look at my hidden treasure, my heart sings. But not in words. No. It’s an inner reverberation that conveys more meaning than the text I’ve already forgotten.

An added benefit is the gazillion groupies that clamour for my attention. Girls tend to crush on bookish boys, you know!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020