Tag Archives: Hair

Dusty Socks (day 2228)

Onward my heart
To the soaring distances I’ve been dreaming here of
To the leafless gaze
The toothless grin
A window frame caught amidst a midsummer storm.

And if fractions should call against pure chaos
That leave impressions upon my spine that bends over just so
Let the memory of what has always been past
Echo longingly into the recesses of my soul,
Let winds blow my hair around and into my eyes
So that my remaining senses cannot see, cannot hear, cannot feel,
But sing like the babbling brook
That chaos has dipped her toes into.

And here I will become
A saucer for sorrows over a campfire smouldering
A spirit stung with madness so crippling
This flag that has been chosen to fly
Shall linger softly
Like the ocean breeze that watches your excitement gather
Upon smooth rocks with dusty socks
And a sealion dipping below.

My Chin (day 2226)

A cheap drink rolled down my chin
As I lay motionless
Stuck in a window of thought
With a naked Lady hugging my shoulder
Purring softly with a story I’m not listening to.

My eyes remember a hot evening smell
Coming from the loins of love
When I licked what I wanted to
And kissed all the rest,
Passion I long ago learned to evoke
Just like my firm grip
Of the buttox of my lover.

Drawn back in with her heat, her arousal
By a finger drawing figures I’m left guessing about on my chest
I smell her hair, tucked beneath my chin
And remember the cigar I had smoked earlier
How it had lingered in my nostrils and danced with smoke
She looked at me and kissed the liquor from my chin
Whispering words I’ve love her for madly.

Window Drops (day 2171)

Along the ways of window drops
A bird flew out the nest
Cloud came to my very door
And my hair lay flattened down.
Yet every signal
East be at it’s back
Signaled me to rise above
What midnight I had not looked back.
Nor did my animosity
Rumble to a stop
A grinding halting dusty jalopy
My chariot of grim time.
True, each dirt splash lay bare
The deeper grit of sand
Which held my flower to my nose
Thus, bow down low I dearly bade.

Disturb Me (day 2093)

Stir my cesspool of random thoughts
That hold each of my ears wide
Collecting bits of random chaos;
Ricochet through a knotty web
Like the tangled mass hairs on my head
Have spun about my brain;
Shift my gears into 5th
As we barrel down a dirt road at midnight
With the lights cut.

You Used To (day 2063)

When you used to sing me songs
I was James Dean and you were love
And wind flowed through our hair
Past a highway sign that read: ‘see ya later’.

When you used to run your hand
Across the front summertime chest
I’d look you up and down
Until we’d both run all round.

When you called me that last time
I was a million miles away
There was static playing on every line
And my voice was in a tin can.

Now, when you come to my mind
You’ve still got those wild daises in your hand
Your smile is the size of the sun
Where we’ve both just begun.

Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXVII (day 2021)

(part XXXXVI)

“I am not going anywhere,”
I swooned to my love as she lay beside me
My fingers slowly playing with her hair,
“But should you decide we should go
I would be there right with you, dear,
I would be with you to the stars
I would climb with you each jagged cliff
I would help, my hand a ladder
And send you the lightness
My heart stole from you near.

“If you should want to walk to the end
I would not tire of the steps we would take
Beside you, I would gather fuel
For each night’s fire I should tend
I would count every star we would see
In the dark night’s blossom
From the distance here on earth
Upon camp I would make for you.

“And if you wanted to be close
I would strip my very skin for you
To open up and climb within
My fingers play for you
My heart beats for you
My legs would cover you
In those close thoughts of the night
As your desirous heart beckoned to become one
Like our fingers entwined
Like trees amidst forest
Like She-Wolf and He-Wolf
I’d be your every movement, repeat,
I’d be every moment your grace.

“Should you want the moon in your eyes
I’d climb every tree up high
To find that old man so gray
I’d coax him over to stand bright
Proud to glow as he did show
Should I bring him home just to you
With a lasso I’d have him packed
For each time I looked in your eyes
You, me, and the moon,
Sail forever in every swoon.

“And as you want to stay every day
Right here, beside me,
Upon this very hide here
I savor every breath I take
Of the aura you shower so
I begin every sentence
With your name on my tongue
With your skin upon my fingers dancing
With your warmth taking me
Past the sun and past the sea
Ten thousand dreams and back
And every moment of your desire
My dreams to be for thee
Till my bones can be for you
Support for everything you do
Like the support you are for me.

part XXXXVIII

Blueberries (day 1955)

I bring my soul into your every hair
Dangling there
An extension
Floating and waving upon your whim
And sunshine
Marks my smile
As the golden hour I should tell
Clears minds
And hurries home
With a full basket of blueberries

2015-09-26-jamie-lee-mock-ned-tobin-urban-sunshine-22-of-374-2

My Sweet Game (day 1950)

Remind me of the garden I’ve floated in
Tea you used to share
Your laugh to my sweet game

With history on our steppe
I could mark every book full of stars
And still your voice through halls of love

Let me lose years since it’s been
So much to wish and to share
Let us find two handsome garden chairs

As dead leaves fall Autumn around
My heart pulls home warm cups of tea
And family speaks free in your hair

My Sweet Game by Ned Tobin

Down Turned Reverberations (day 1912)

You know, it’s ok.

It doesn’t matter that the sky seems to fall when you stretch your eyes wide at the beginning of a new day. It doesn’t matter that the tangle in your heart matches the tangle of your long, curly, brown hair drooping about your itchy nose as you fling from side to side with a worn out cactus shirt reaching down to the same legs you rest your morning coffee on.

I’ve found a reason that doesn’t rely on these silly momentary things. I’ve found the silk road, pock marked by moths with an unsettling history that left a lot of sad pages in the brown covered diary I’ve never re-read. I’ve begun to maneuver this silk pressing just as I would walking through busy streets or desert, dry mouthed and heart fleeting as beats reverberate off of every single thought.

It’s ok.

It’s a revolution that cannot get taken away, it’s the dull side of a newly sharpened axe. How many rows have you planted to become the star lit sky we all look up to; arms are better for hugging then the cold glass walls modern giants embed their soldiers within.

You’re not the only one with down turned memories of what we could never see, never hear, never even share from the distance we watch each other from – but our morning smells seem to remind us of nothing but the closeness we have; but evening silence is a feeling we so easily forgive.

It’s ok, and I’m never really very far.

Benevolent Symbol (day 1887)

In the passages of my time
I am the benevolent symbol
Laid into seams that easily stretch
From nether regions of
An angry personage
To crispy green crunches
Of fresh Sunrise apples;
Delicate fingertips as I dance merrily
With sunbeams casting minute details
Into consciousness’ unrelenting path.

And if gods were ever here
It was an idle truth,
A crass gesture,
I’ve seen their footprints muddling midday shores
High tide, low tide
Stomping children’s little castles.

Come and get my open arms
My roots are in your hair
My hands are on your hips
My high is for your low
And I am feeling tongue tied.

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