Asked to be An Angel Again (day 1813)

I was asked to become a guardian
Down low, down low, in a bottom of mud.
Too late, I said,
Coughing and excusing myself;
Toxicity had taken control
Of my asthma, uncontrollably
Letting my lungs flank
Sides of this yellow pole.
I smiled nicely
At the man who said something,
But to him, I wasn’t listening,
I was to busy snoring.
Excuse me, I said,
Under my breath
And a fly came and landed
Above my head,
So I moved on again, up high, up high.

Dirtbag Scumbag (day 1812)

Dirtbag scumbag
Roll my eyes into this guise
Made-up offending
Ruling this land
And let it be that we don’t care
For what sure aren’t feeling
And there’s a long line
Waiting for tattoos at
Minivan alley.
This ol’ destroyed board
Traded for a pinstripe man
Waiting down the alley
From hunger land
That never came:
Gone too far.

Trying (day 1811)

I know I should take the bait
Take a long lineup of hardship
And exchange it for matching shoes
With couples pillows
And a constant strain
On the middleman
Who religiously writes me, nicely,
Every two weeks to tell me it’s OK
And leaves me wondering
What I had once thought
Was a romantic idea,
Because IKEA has enough assemblage
To make my choice just hard enough
That I won’t mind inspiration
Now filled with a cacti,
Leaving little room
For an inspired thought
That keeps me thinking I’m trying.
And I am trying.

An Ode to Sebastião Salgado (day 1651)

Your truth shall not lay untold,
A liberty demanded by your lens.
Spread far, to a billion souls!
And left them telling more.

This sacrifice you’ve made,
These injustices you’ve witnessed,
Have scarred you deeper then we know
And left you far from home.

Yet you have challenged yourself to be
A man to change the world!
A man who walked, sympathetic in thought,
To capture truth, indefinitely.

I know I’ve seen but little of what
It’s taken to make the view,
A tree or two, a holocaust,
Amazonians who eat the sloth.

I recognize the commitment required
To flap the shutter again,
I know desire that trumps all hells
To keep thy foot aloof.

For without your alert eye
Trained towards this land we all call home,
Surely we’d all have remained
Ignorant till the day we die.

So be thy grace as you continue,
Be the majesty we step into each day,
A glory we call on friendly terms:
Home, our land, our people, our soul.

 

Sebastião Salgado Genesis
Sebastião Salgado Genesis

Think-Tank (day 1620)

This is nonderstandable.
Graphically explicit and blurring lines
That have been drawn out so carefully
By think-tank alike-thinkers
To show a way that cannot fail –
Will not fail.
This non-sense blasphemizes our capacity
To grapple hard bits of mal-comfort,
And undercuts the very essence
Of our giant human-kind steps
Towards liberation and freedom
In a unified mission towards love,
Strength, and peace.
So don’t bow down to your sense,
It is understandable.

Think Tank by Ned Tobin

Awake (day 1540)

When I’m awake I find balancing points
That trickle down through clouds and metaphors
Like sapphire jewels having a field day in stage lights.
I watch children sprinkle their knees with pixie dust
And women walking with protest signs
Covered in bloody tampons.
I cover my muesli in chia seeds and hemp hearts
Because I believe in a well balanced diet,
And stay up late at night with my lover, naked,
Talking about what turns us on.
When I’m awake I’m a well versed man
Who believes in a conversation
That can change the world,
And as I do this I break down my understanding
Of how the world can change.
I’ll always believe,
I’ll always buy second hand and resell what I don’t need
To a kind soul with a good home,
I’ll always enjoy gardens that feed my mind, body and soul
Like a calming glass of water,
I’ll always walk with my heart open,
And if that doesn’t make me balanced,
Then it’s sink or swim for me
In this world spinning like an old Russian top.
And I’m not afraid to admit that I’m not awake all the time
Because fuck, we all need balance.

Zero and One (day 1434)

I am a number that’s been picked and then released,
Signed and dotted twice and
Sealed strong with our family crest.

This is destiny in the hands of an entrepreneur,
Folding up the corners and
Wrapping tight the family chest.

Watching lights twinkle in a glimmer of urbanized hope,
Shaking off flood water and
Minding the high level mark.

Without a standard ruling system we are all zeros and ones;
Counting guides and shutting eyes
And a program we just press run.

Fine Wine Dreams (day 1392)

This tap has run dry
Of its fine wine,
Just chips and dip left
On the mantle ledge.

A fire burns elastically,
Transfixing each gaze
Into a myraid of dreams
Slowly edging reality’s edge.

Darkness transcends time
When city streets no longer wind
About fir trees and hemlock,
Mocking life’s cruel new wedge.