Tag Archives: Writings

saoirse

at the beginning of time there was a girl
in a melamine bowl
she had no family, no friends
and was on the dole
she was sat there in a corn flake swirl
a milky, sugared doll
her belongings were mere odds and ends
oh, what a poor little soul!

her name was saoirse
though people hardly remembered
yearning between dearth and plenty
buried under stone in the garden of rasure

at noonday’s predoom was a woman cold
in a gumball machine
for the merriment of boozers
in a stinky shebeen
she would shiver nude and candy bold
a pert and tart cuisine
a laughing stock even for losers
oh, buy her a tall glass of poteen!

her name was saoirse
though people hardly remembered
yearning between dearth and plenty
buried under stone in the garden of rasure

at the end of all things there was a crone
in a bottle discarded
fighting her battles all over again
in weakness, unguarded
she inhaled a black wind through her bones
and all she’d once regarded
her last sigh was for the land of cockaigne
where life is ample tabled and lardered

her name was saoirse
though people hardly remembered
yearning between dearth and plenty
buried under stone in the garden of rasure

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

GUEST POST // the role of woman by Victoria Campbell

selfless devotion
constantly giving
time
energy
validation
nothing in return
taken for granted
the expectation stands
any deviation,
expression of negativity,
impression of criticism
called out
normal human emotions
wants and desires
hidden from view
under a calm façade
longing for a hint of appreciation
but nothing
critiques and indifference
a woman
more complex than portrayed
a fragmented personality
serving the needs of others
a sacrifice to man
a mother
her most important role
or so they say
thousands of years of history
traditions passed down
arbitrary rules enforced
but I am much more
kindness and fragility
feeble and soft spoken
arbitrary rules enforced
but I am much more
kindness and fragility
feeble and soft spoken
the woman plays a subservient role
in the play of life
how limiting this must be
to herself but also humanity
imagine where the story could go
if our parts weren’t so one-dimensional

by TORI CAMPBELL
© All rights reserved 2020

the oblivion amnesty

as the eviscerated fish fries in its milt
so too i self-immolate in feculent guilt
my thoughts are sharper than a castrating knife
looking to cradle song to pity my lawless life

hush, little baby, don’t say a word
you’ll die soon enough, and shame ungird
just look at yourself one last time
as you flop and gasp before your last crime

as the desiccated slug becomes shriveled and pruned
so too i rub salt into this black pudding wound
my memories are more bitter than jesuit’s bark
looking to burial song to absolve myself in the dark

cry, little baby, let everyone hear
you’ll rot soon enough, in soil and fear
just look at yourself one last time
as you drop and rasp after your last crime

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

PERFECTION IN ACTION // Gendered Fight

“You misunderstand.” The blue butterfly took another sip of nectar. “You’re clearly out of the loop!”

“Sure, ‘mansplain’ it to me then.” The butch lesbian stag beetle rolled her eyes. “You cis male types always know better.”

“Your so-called ‘self-sufficiency’ is just for lack of a real man in your life.” The blue butterfly hiccupped, wiggling his antennae in a faintly imposing manner. Nectar dripped onto the bar counter.

Later that day, the butch lesbian stag beetle’s friends asked about the blue butterfly lying beneath the bar counter in a pool of vomit.

“Oh,” she said. “That’s called ‘self-sufficiency’. Apparently.”

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

hell is paved…

they were proving
who loved whom more
first they argued, then they quarreled
and at last got into a fight

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2020