Tag Archives: Tony Single
indica flower
skitch the match
get inside the blow
& let her know
my pockets be funnels to other lands
as i deep reach to link with the hands
of the better man i wanna be
away from their cruel drudgery
light it up, boyo, light it all up
can you smell the comen rain
can you smell the cherry whip hair
them dreadlocks make above her face
she funky smell, she be moisten turf
tongue in, boyo, drink her up
she skunky munky with the badonk
she fill up my mouth & nostril bonk
she make me loven with dream hands
she taken me to the promise lands
hips quaken into her huffen man
hammer & tongs
get inside the muff
& let her buff
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2026
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strawberry cry when you’re happy
the midnight sun returned
as i knew it would
white nights replaced black days
an endless pyjama party
the black dog retreated
my breath hung in the air
pawprints on the window pane
their grief frozen in my smile
day & night gave way to flight
the reach of my mind’s eye
a midday moon winked at me
a ghostly strawberry in the sky
& i often wonder why
tears can flow from a glad heart
like a sweet red nectar
from an overripe berry
the midnight sun returned
the black dog retreated
day & night gave way to flight
& i often wonder why
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025
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the end of everything
the days have buried us
quiet desperation’s creep
they’ve embraced the liturgy
of dubstep supremacy
the old reich is new again
dandelions spinning
we seek the mercy of sleep
zero-sum mentality
is their prime modality
none beyond the reich’s reach
it’s all over your face
silence only we sane can hear
the world’s too gone to scream
one weep away from hell
of the faithful’s making
we could try to break free
or sink into apathy
the reich prevails either way
a slavish love or else
führer gods above us all
the great ‘i am’ collectively
jackboots in perpetuity
embrace the reich on fire
it’s all over your face
silence only the sane can hear
we’re far too gone to scream
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2026
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it’s complicated
woman in red
writing in red
of all her grievances
in over her head
‘cos she won’t give head
(well, that’s what he said)
she wants to really
to taste & get feely
but he hates her dearly
(well, that’s what she said)
mayhap neither ought to have wed
they’ve long since shat the marital bed
(well, that’s what the milkman said)
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2026
unbolt me 