Resting (day 3207)

This is the feeling of broken again
The one that rest inside
And cannot find words to share
Because the words that come
Are accusations
Frustrations
Words that will take us nowhere
A fight I no longer have the breath
To take an inhale for.
So I will close my eyes
And rest my deepest rest
So that I can find within
The soul that needs to rise
From the broken pieces
Resting.

Whisper (day 3206)

Whisper-by-Ned-Tobin

This hurts and I’m not sure
And I don’t want to guess anymore.
So I clap both my hands
To suggest who I am.

Not for a way,
Not for a guess,
Not for a little bit,
Not for the end.

And I whisper
Into the death of my vision
So I may not know
The next steps to be taken
With wind in my face
And a slump, lacking all grace.

Rotting Extinction (day 3170)

There were no more ways for the buffalo to roam
Fences stopped their grazing and wild land migration
Farmers began to cultivate their food with chemicals
And soon they became desired by man for their very skin
That kept them warm through the winter
Leaving the only thing they couldn’t be robbed of
Their soul, their wild and herd driven soul
Alone, rotting on the fields forever.

In Calling (day 3156)

The Devil came to the house today
He knocked with three raps at the door
A long cold shudder filled the room
All knowing the impending doom.
We looked each other in the eye
Not sure which of us was to answer,
So finally I stood up to go
Amicably respond upon the threshold.
Each step I took echoed down the hall
Cold stone that now creaked and groaned.
I saw upon the mirror adjacent
To the threshold to whence I went
My reflection so scarcely visible
Trembling amidst my very bones.
Slowly, as if knowing the worst to come
I rotated the door handle slowly down
And opened up the door to see
Who had knocked three raps in calling me.

Gates (day 3136)

You guarded the gate
Like Sphynx afar
Stoned and vacant
And mighty imposing
Like a thundering Lord
With a wish for more
Yet slowly people
Fell away
As bricks built upon
A ragged foundation
Of imposed rules
And stolen goods
Will always crumble
Until at last
It broke
Hinges and all
Leaving each pebble
In your wake
A memory
Of a truth once shared

Blinded Worship (day 3132)

Worship at the state of alter
For each breath reconciles
Lost wages at the gates of infirm.
And at dawn,
Ghosts shall bowl their syrup
Onto lawns of placid velvet
That feel unusually comfortable
In the absence of relativity.
Here it shall be
That gates no longer shine
For eyes used to the dark;
The gates have blinded

Whisper Call (day 3129)

Don’t go calling on a whisper,
Worn out in an icebox
Left behind with gravel
Torn bits of a working past.
Don’t leave it there
For it will fade until forgotten
And cease to mean
What it once meant to be.
Its function will go away,
And its form and vigor
Will become used car sales lots
At the dodgy end of town.
For there is no good come
Of a screw head stripped of groove,
Nor a dollar bill
Faded to dust.