Tag Archives: Naked

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.

Treasure Chest (day 2131)

Rambling when I remembered to stop
A limb broken and I heard it drop
Methodically stripping naked
A consciously wrapped envelope
Placed at the trunk of a mighty old oak
Who waved back and forth
Silly gamblers marching about
To the tune of engines
Sputtering confusion
And lay raindrops upon folded corners
Which shall leak kava upon this ancient floor
Upon which I rest upon
To humbly assess the treasure chest.

Carry Me Away (day 2114)

Clearly when I stepped aside
I should have worn my trench-coat
A bitter torrent swept me off
Into a dreary day
Umbrella was of no use
For it was quickly laid to waste
And I, naked
Lacked any hope of saving grace
And the storm rolled on
As my footsteps carried me away.

The Boxer (day 1933)

You were a boxer
Every Thursday night
After Big Jim’s Saloon
Took a bottle and you
Out to a cobblestone night.
A muffled mind with intention,
Fireworks covered in mud,
And a slow slur that wound up
Like Roadrunner
Walking a tightrope,
The top rope
Of a dark, four cornered ring.
You liked the big city
Because your slow down
Never coincided with a dead end.
Your betting days
Flashed jackpot on your bedroom wall:
Red, green, and yellow.
And your highschool sweetheart
Hung alone on peeling paper
That crackled back at you
As you walked naked
From your bedroom
To a comfortable routine
You knew so well.

Turning Outlaw Again (day 1825)

I’m turning outlaw again,
My stinging words will pierce thy soul
And my fists will bleed my wicked ways,
I’ll drink my beer warmer then
My women have ever been.
I’m turning down the next dusty road
Handing over my soft spoken ways
For rowdy bars and snake tattoos
I’ll start to hiss with the devils drink.
I’m turning outlaw again,
My gang will be 20 strong
On an open road,
Our clubhouse filled with naked women
Who have signed their posters on the walls.
Saw toothed barbed wire
Will be our backup guard dog
And strapped in a leather sheath to my hip
Will be the deadliest blade known to man.
I’ll shoot my shotgun out the back door
At empty beer cans from the night before,
And all my cigarette smoke
Will lead me to toke,
Cause baby, I’m turning outlaw again.

Damn Cool Man (day 1787)

I am the hipster
Fly by my pants nomad
Living by instinct
Freezing each mundane square
Inside distance I tread.
I lie awake at night dreaming,
Feeling pressure to explode my insides
Upon any medium I dare,
To swing my resources
Into left shoe – right shoe
While keeping alive the motion
Of original expression,
Dissolving away cultural expectations
As black coffee drips naked
Upon my stained fingers
Tapping lightly on my conscience,
Erupting in ecstatic orgasm.

20150912 - Ned Tobin - 42

Golden Cleft, Silver Leaf (day 1780)

To me it was the best I could
But in the end, I lament – misunderstood.
Like a diamond engulfed in a suave scarf
I rolled nonchalance, engulfed in Mars.

To be alone in a symbol of peace,
I had a golden cleft, a silver leaf;
A long row of butterflies
And I, wanting only to spread my wings to fly.

Easing words that did not become my name,
I reached a point to which I claimed!
And there I stood, as naked as death,
Where moments stood for my held breath.

20151219 - The Ranch - Ned Tobin - 63

Floating Soul (day 1693)

Float my soul as wind does blow;
A field of drifting snow.
Long grass will tickle my fleeting heart,
Field posts as my deep breath.
My wisdom is an open sea
Torrenting above this frozen ground,
Truth for which I’m steady holds
Dirt which refuses me
The steady pull of gravity.
And in this I shall forever find
Patience of the naked deciduous,
A lark, yet steadfast cold.

Floating Home (day 1493)

I am floating as if observing
And not returning home.
I am a ruffling cloud nearing dusk
Upon a serene and hot evening
At the lake smelling like campfire.
I am nonsense trickling off into night
In rattles and clacking,
As lonesome restlessly lays naked
Aside discarded sheets
And a light layer of sweat.

Loaded Gun (day 1398)

Such a waste,
When lying naked
Beside a loaded gun,
That it should find
Itself unfired,
Like our great time of haste.

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