Secretely (day 2349)

Secretly I whisper to the eyes that hold but little space for me
An awareness that belongs not to my soul of desire
But to a lost alarm clock beckoning for another hour
A window catches a blinking light somewhere in the horizon
While a cat sadly roams about the hall with a limp it cannot heal
Desolation is a lingering affair amidst night before’s busy streets
Where once fireworks begged for mercy in the air like dragons nightly play
So I shall talk at odd volumes to hear my voice again
Though no memory shall recall the words that secretly danced
Amidst uneven sidewalks of a forgotten despair.

Forgotten (day 2335)

I have not remembered the promise we made each other
No, I have forgot it just like the sunset we watched
And the kiss – we never shared
I did not walk those streets with you
In a foreign villa of unending desires
It was not of my hand that wrote thee thy letter
No, that would have broken my heart
To watch you walk off into the day
Of another dream I did not have.
I have not remembered the promise we made each other
And I have not watched the same movie on repeat
I do not remember curling up with you
Under my grandmother’s knit afghan,
Every time I take to my bike
I do not think of the basket upon yours
Instead I ring my bell so loud
My knees they knock me free.

Shuffling (day 2318)

I’m not very far
Just a shining star
A beat sent to the night
Half past what was good
Turned into three songs
I’m not shuffling on
Freight train of my night
Slow song keeps following me
Down another lonely street
Not far to get
Thoughts of home
My weary knees,
Shining star and not very far
Sing me songs I wont forget
And carry me another beat
I’m shuffling on.

Stay Here (day 2306)

I’m looking for an excuse to stay here
Left over piano tunes
Strolling the evening away
With leather soles and a warm glass of wine
Taking my time
Down the street of no convenience
Well past midnight
And the weather’s been fine
So I’ll stay out here
Walking this walk
And looking for deals in a dusty window
So I don’t have to stay here anymore.

Not Tomorrow (day 2128)

You had a golden hour approaching
I wrote it down into my never ending
Then I sang a song that held each note too long
And dusted off each missing string.

Well and gone was each memory
Tucked into a case, sent off to sea
So my carved music making machine
Led me down the worst wrong street.

Oh you, you, you dug more sand to cover my toes
Coldness that I couldn’t attribute
Soaking bone my today castle
Over sunsets of towards a never end.

Intention (day 2056)

When did we lose the underground
The deep devils that wrecked things
That spray painted innocence away
And held up dirty slogans
On hand written signs
That didn’t follow general consensus.

I don’t understand you anymore
I hear words that make sense
But it doesn’t help me understand you any more
And like my shoes I found in a department store
That squeak like the others
I’m floating down easy street
With intention on my mind.

Am I this made up?
I’m growing angry at the devil’s draft
The experience I’ve left behind
Dry and balding, a sour glass
Chew me up and spit me out
Slap me with some beaver fat
I’m growing old and losing time
And I’m putting each sequence on a list
To burn up in tomorrow’s fire.

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.

Dead Ends (day 1874)

I don’t want to remember
Because the stories of my nostalgia
Belong to endings I’ve never lived
And lost songs I’ve left unsung
Ring on in my head.
I don’t want to play those records
Because they’re broken now,
And my heart reaches
Every time the needle skips,
And every time I drive those streets
I’m left shifting gears of a
Past I’ve left dead ended.

News (day 1839)

I asked you in an earnest voice
If the weather had been nice –
A windowless entrance into your mind
A sunset in the sky.
And your sunglasses gave you away
On this sunny side of our street
Where I ventured just one other guess
As to where your lover had been lately.
To which you looked the other way
And left me holding onto your
Glass purse now splayed on the floor.
A prison I could only guess,
As I collected quite the mess
In shadows and eye liner pens.
So I turned back into my coffee
That was more straight then you did seem
To let her cursing steam away
And the news was getting cold.

News by Ned Tobin