Warm Tea (day 2516)

I’m not Gothic, but I’m made for the edge
I sharpen my pencils with one long steel blade
And whisper in darkness to ghosts running around.

There’s still time for me to walk away,
A path where shrunken skulls remind me
Of voices necromancy.

I’m not here for anything but tea, kind Sir,
Help me bring silence
In this sea of raindrops dragging
For my pencils and warm tea.

River in My Bloodstream (day 2413)

Listen to the raindrops
Finding my way home
A whisper in the darkness
Memory now long gone

Can’t listen to the rhythm
Rabbits in my ears
Folding up our broken stream
Holding out my hands

River in my bloodstream
Paddling my way home
Setting out my darkness
I grew up here again

Swimming out past midstream
Dagger in my plan
Rugged from the north land
Leaving there my heartbeat

Tea (day 2204)

Make me reel in your sweetest tea
I hear scarlet raindrops
Opening every door so tenderly
Saturate my safely laid plans
With incandescent luminosity
Breaking my lucid dreaming
With delicate fingerprints
Dancing faster then I had imagined
In a gallery of ancient symbols.

Ancient Seabird (day 2179)

When wounds of Ancient Seabird
Flush over each cresting wave
A reverie ensues
Collected with raindrops
From ocean condensation.
Mother cries, laments,
Spreads her tears
Into spraying breeze
That wafts over heralded rocks
Sentinels standing guard
Waiting for the bleeding
To dampen each succulent
Feeding fears forgotten
And the breath
Of Ancient Seabird.

Chains (day 2143)

I have launched my Saturn
To lasso my stronghold
About the trunk of an old fir
And in my harness
That I have so carefully filtered
I can see tire marks
Destroying the delicacy
So carefully planted before me.

My disrespecting synonyms
Displace me
Yet from this angle
My six shooter chops each antagonist
Down to their knees
To which I show no mercy
I have no mercy
For the main target
Of the world I’ve come to
Heavily breathe in
Lies stickered to the souls
Of garbage bins discarded.

So, I carefully sign my name
To hand written documents
That address my stronghold’s weakness
And dig my stick
Into footpaths abandoned,
And rip the flagging
From mouth of hungry chains
Replacing raindrops
With Spring snowdrops.

Twisting Trail (day 2127)

Papa could’ve been another type of man
Like a raindrop could be caught in a hand
Let another letter slip through the mail
Gone again gone again as heat prevails.

“A little gone,” says the better man
Couldn’t you have just set it right: a plan
I said goodbye into a dusty pan
Held it close as I looked inside.

When the needles dropped upon the forest floor
Little birds gathered all around
Snowdrops sprouted into the sky
And the trail twisted on.

Bled My Raindrops (day 2120)

Listen to raindrops fall
I thought I heard to let it go
Sadness in an old song
And my heart is letting go
To me, I’m still beating there
Go back, take the slower track
In a mind of losing me
I called out to a golden eagle
Take me to the sun
Today I ran today I run
Today I found a trail
Through a suffering forest
They call Ancient Wisdom
I led my heart
Through the roots
To place it at a base
Of Old Man Beard and his setting sun
That bled my raindrops dry.

Shawnigan Lake - Ned Tobin

Raindrops off Rooftops (day 2104)

Please don’t take my feeling
Down another empty highway
Like raindrops off rooftops
I’ve been splashing my dreams
All over you, girl.

I’ve found these dotted lines
With my blossoming feeling
As windshield blades swipe clean
My fogging dream, girl
Sweet reverie.

Silhouettes take my eye drops
Far from my Cadillac lollipops
Another roadhouse streetlamp
Flickering hope, girl
I’m taking the next pullout.

Feel in it; another crooked street
Turn me on with a vibrant song
Shake me by a gravity stick
Boom ba-da-boom-boom
And my song goes on.

Dusty Old Artifacts (day 1748)

I believed just so strongly that you would be the one
So much so that I chairiscuro’d my heart into day and night,
Night and day.
So longing with my open arms I stood uninterested,
Drooping at edges of my sanity
That left holes so deeply imprinted into my unknown matter
I had successfully reprinted what I’d callously called
“Out of Stock.”
Now? Now I would like to re-brand my interests,
Remove all the old artifacts that so delicately had collected
Dusty particles of my memory,
And remind myself how little it mattered in the end –
Dust being all that could sprinkle our dearest dreams –
As raindrops came tumbling down upon a rainbow I’d ignited.
So my desert teardrops exclaimed to my heartbeat, strong,
Oh this desperado desolato,
In an anguish that I could not anticipate…
Because spring had not yet sprung.