Sweat Tea (day 1840)

Into my sweet tea
I felt there was an empty spoon
And you came along so soft
To help me with my sugar,
And here your golden laughter
Took a shining to my smile –
A power I was helpless to,
A Queen in a beggars hand.
And if my sorrow had a strength
It would be a sweetened song,
It would be so round it had no edge
And sugar would be my pun
For my sweet tea is clearly running low
And my spoon has turned to fun.

Sweet Tea by Ned Tobin

Tibetan Orbs (day 955)

While straddling my time between Christ the sugar bowl and Don, the rather small teapot
I kissed the roasting bacon nuzzling up against my clothes, a warm glove
“Ouch” said the lonely spot of a remnant hot plate as I smooth talked her into a gentle coo
From here, I could almost hear the other patrons, busily slurping their medium roast over
Minding the color swirls developing in their half and half and brew mix; mind the honey, sugar
I twisted wildly to see a maiden, one of fairer skin and lovelier smile than this twirling vinyl chair I’d been making eyes at
I couldn’t quite understand her stuffed down puff jacket obstructing her twisted cursive
As she coiled and rounded the blue ball point pen about the pages of her soft red scribbler
But my eyes were taken by her small Tibetan orbs delicately dangling from her lobes
I wondered how far she had come today, and if it meant to her as much as it meant to me
That she was also sitting by her lonesome, like I was, at a buck fifty diner, romancing wildly with Christ the sugar bowl and Don, the rather small teapot

Makin Rhyme (day 814)

Shake my sugar
My gloved thing
In moonlight
It’s a good thing
It’s been alright
Oh my dear thing

Cause it’s a 1-2-3
Hippity
Hippity
Hippity
Hop
Shake it down some
Make rhythm

Run

Baby you’re all fine
Sugar and rhyme
You pull roses from hearts crest
You pull angels from heavens nest
Your big bad ways unknown to man
You drag hearts round
You make loud sound

You’ve heard words
That ain’t mine
You lift pity hurts
Until blind bursts shatter loudly
You’ve pushed bad songs
Until rhythm equals dirt
Slung guns with the bad crew
And left daddy with a wide grin

Been there, you know
I’ve hustled in bad times
When there ain’t a living
You’ve got nothing baby
Like it ain’t hurt
You ain’t nothing baby
Like it ain’t hurt

Truth is
It’s a good thing
Prophecy will manifest
Like good goblins
In the blackness
Or Michael Jackson
And a leather vest
It ain’t lies
It’s like a holocaust
Evil gone
And the good all left
Broken gods
Relaxing on the river’s edge

It’s alright
I’m a gentle touch
I’ve got it down
Sugar and sweet
I’m a gentle touch
You know baby
I’m a gentle touch

Now no break
Can penetrate
Can permeate
This fine skin
Traumatize
Through these eyes
Cause you’re a bad seed
Through these eyes
You’re never wrong

Insanity and the Devil (day 726)

I’m insanity
It’s nice to meet you
Can I leave on my shoes?
They’re not that dirty, really..
I’ve only trudged through hell
And the muddy banks of depression
Along the copse of Zen
And through the fields of peace

I’ve come for a spot of tea
I think it’d be nice
If we got to know each other
It’s going to be a long road, soon
And we’re better off
Being somewhat familiar with each other
To save from growing pains
Later on down the road

No cream, two spoons of sugar
Please