Storm is on the Ni’ (day 1696)

Weathered by the storm one night
I lay awake in bed,
Trusty steed loose outside
To fare for his warmth, amidst.
I’ve got a heart of gold and
I left my shoes tidy by the door.
Stayed up all night watching
Stars shoot through the sky,
And you told me twice that I
Had led you down the right road.
Now you come home and
Lay awake in bed,
Lay beside me when
Storm is on the ni’.

Acid (day 1608)

Acid inflections
Purge soul from desire,
Lingering intentions
Carry my night:
Left lane right lane.

I curve your heart
Around crescent moon
Shaped stools
Delicately dancing
At the feet of my wisdom;
Tooth: sweetened.

Biting into a Caesar brick
Closed around uninviting
Revelations,
A pale ghost runs around
The neighborhood tonight.

Grasp at my turnpike.
Leave an overspent
Midnight dance and
Recoil in pure madness
Like a sesame seed bagel,
Cream cheese.

If I wasn’t a sorcerer
Scrambling dimes
To make a call,
I’d hover gently around
My window,
Until brakes
Were squealing as night set.

Can my name
Become an icon
Dressed in black
Upon your wall?
Can a dollar get me beggars
Shooing shines
At half past twelve?

And like a crawling rat
A hood makes my figurines
Sound silent,
Grooving effortlessly
Into a sea of closed doors
That pacify each and every
Bond I’ve made
Through a long night:
Solitude.

Stallion (day 1585)

Poised like a stallion
– Boy can you call out? –
Levels of a whisper
Took the couple by surprise.
– Have you paid off your tariff? –
And the doors swung fully open
Jammed with eager patrons
– Sing for me heady –
Galloping in bliss feeling
Take a moment, laughter
Lift a delicate feather
And if you find a guy
– a warm and ragged traveler –
Calling out your name
In gay and playful manner
– Pray, no need to shutter –
Dig in deeper spurring
Leave your stallion wilder.

Yellow (day 1570)

Shake your hands little man
Rumble rumble rumble.
Shock proof and submerged
I’ve become a yellow alien
Lost in a foreign land.

Shake it in a glass pint of feel good yellow
Until it hurts so hard nutshell
There begins quite a rumble.
Put your guns outside now,
The blood is run down.

Bitter is the agent of change;
A sour heart upon edges of my spine.
My yellow in the midst of your confusion.
An iron, coyly, in a state of disconnect
And my flattening ceases, rumble rumble.

I hope you found the keys –
Open sitting etched wooden door.
Explanations come out
Flight from a thousand monarch butterflies
In a thousand shades of yellow.

Grandfather’s Shop (day 1557)

A sentence was all I wrote
On a dusty pad of paper
Laying on the old workbench
Inside my late grandfather’s shop.
I knew he was still around there,
He spoke to me in hanging machine parts
Scattered about full walls.
Then I whispered goodnight
And turned down the lights
Making sure the heavy door
Was shut the way he’d shown me how.

Flight (day 1548)

I cycled home as fast I could
To feel wind blow me good,
It circled around my ears and
Lifted me up just so.

As I rounded my last corner
Each pedal that I threw
Made me feel like a nimble bird
Dancing amongst a cloud

The saddest part was when I came
To a familiar door
Which my bronzing key fit just right;
My flight had come to end.

Flight by Ned Tobin

Lipstick-Sad (day 1532)

Imagine the soul of a man
Walking streets past midnight –
Mini skirt and platforms
On a warm clear-skied romance.
But it’s not romance without a date;
Sidewalks scream lonesome
With a handbag and lipstick-sad
Long eyes on a Thursday.
Imagine the shoes of a stranger
Who yells inside a locked door
Made-up and scraping edges
Without a namesake callin’ them home.