Lost Sun Wolf

Land is enough
So why do I hold
So close to my being
This building of plans
Future visions
Amounting to more stacks
Of unread books?

To see, to breathe,
To smells deeply
As I stand patiently
Watching grass blow
And clouds roll.

I try to explain
Why wolf culls are horrific,
Why medicating healthy
Is sponsored iotrogenics.

But the scroll keeps
Dragging attention
Through foreign landscapes
And cute puppies,
Into weddings of strangers
And good times
I’ve seen before
In beer commercials.

It’s ok
Because it’s too much
To take in
Especially all at once.

So I stand here,
Void of that voice
Realizing deeply
Just like setting sun
That I will be forgotten soon
And tomorrow
Which will always come
Will be another day
To try.

Dungeon Boulders

Surely this is a swolen gland of memory
Cursing through my body
Pinching where I’ve been hurt before.

Should I starve you out?
Let you waste away like autumn flowers
Suffocating upon the bed you’ve made?

A cry from depths of my unconscious being
Let out like lightning bolts
Surging through my veins in callous blood clotting.

I hold the reigns, but I do not have this beast tamed,
Wild and friggart he still is
An uncouth I have yet to name.

I shall sweat you out
Heat driving mad, boiling away impurities
With a flame I have stoked ever higher
Designed to inhibit boulders
That this dungeon was built upon.

Messages of Life

My vision has been blotched,
My insides have been influenced
By an algorythm I didn’t want..
But accepted,
Like inflating gas prices
At the pump,
Along a journey
I didn’t plan.

The algorythm told me
What I should have known
I had to do,
It showed me beautiful photos
That directly appealed to my soul
Because I had trained it to know
What my soul was drawn to
In such a sly way
That my soul is starting to think
It has been tricked into being this way.

How do you step away?
Physically, mentally,
Spiritually.
Healthily.
How does one begin to see dots
So that a woven thread
Can be drawn between them
A threaded vine, hops,
Nestled between two calm growth lines
Of muscle and soul,
Callus and depth.

It feels like turning off the light
Walking alone in darkness
Reminding myself I live here
And can visualize the corners
To avoid bumping into.

It feels like losing a friend
Not the excitement of starting a journey
But the reverse
No more serendipitous friends
Going out for coffee at the coolest spot in town
No more hitting the peak at sunrise
No more rich street foods from India
Or Wat visits in Thailand.

It feels like a Doctors visit
Where reality cannot be escaped
Truth must be told to those who seek to help
And I must admit to myself the most
Where I wake up each morning
And what I have ahead of me to do.

I’m not a movie
No Hollywood plot,
I’ve got cuts on my hands
That didn’t get publicized
My boots didn’t get worn so
By a team of set designers
I didn’t seek funding
I am funding, myself.

So, perhaps this is my starting,
My turning away slowly at the inside
Where I re-write my reasons
And my daily check-ins
Come with meaning and fortitude.
What meaning I do give
Needs to come with a warning
That these messages of life
Are forever important.

Coffee Grinds

Please dont put so much
Water on my coffee grinds
It just ain’t right to be doing
Such nasty things to me
Please dont put so much
Water on my coffee grinds
What did I do to your story
To deserve this business from you
Please dont put so much
Water on my coffee grinds
This here ain’t the first time
I’ve wrastled with your jelly bean
Please dont put so much
Water on my coffee grinds
I can’t handle no more
Of your stealing time of mine
Please dont put so much
Water on my coffee grinds
I’ve got a long way
To be headin’ along today
Please dont put so much
Water on my coffee grinds
So I need your backdoor business
To leave it alone
Please dont put so much
Water on my coffee grinds
Or I wont be headed back again

Unattended Fire

I’m hijacking emotional waves
Leaving the strong winds
For cracked nuts
And a fire, unattended.
My teeth hurt
And my coffee’s gone cold
– Toxic lush
Even when hot.
A game, I’m gone
Struck me on the shoulder
But hoping for an open minded Lady
Who gave a wrinkled
Promiscuously acquired
Five dollar bill
To a tourist fear trap
Like a Merry Christmas card
Unsigned.
But I’m gone
With hotel room vibes
Blinking lethargically
Stuck in deeper thoughts
That have taken me
Deep inside
This unattended fire,
Waiting for a spark to arise
Within me
Like Cupid’s golden arrow.

Unattended Fire by Ned Tobin

Dried Pen

My anger soaks me;
Leaflets floating to ground
With script precisely writ.
Daggars fly;
Pen dries and is again dipped
To lay out my pulsing veins
That have taken hold
Each cumbersome breath,
Each suffocating exhale,
And filled my hand with poison.

I dare not touch again.
Yet yearn I do so much
For even a deadly touch
So soaked in yearning’s pulse
That I feel
Faint throbbing at my neck
To gasp at last
A breath so soft
Anger’s taken leave
My life.

Flies

After a while the flies find you
Sinking into skin
Like love letters I’m waiting for.
I try my passive eye
With a lazy wind
Covering my imagination
While three ewes
Run circles,
Their heads down
Wishing for longer grass to hide in.
But my exhaustion
Just watches two blackflies
One on each wrist
Searching for that perfect place
To bite in
Just like the lover
I’m waiting to hear from.
My presence will outweight
My disregard here,
Just as the sun knows
It outweighs the wind
And there are no flies who care less.

Slave’s Still Fight

I am immense
And stuck
And broken in my battle;
Giants tearing trees
And Titans throwing boulders.

How do I convey my meanings
When I am unreasonable
Living inside a dream
Of everyone’s meaning well.

Does my habit become your habit?
Do I lose myself into you?
Does my soil sprout many plants?
Can I hope to grow with you?

For my beast of rage
Within my deep breaths
Is evermore, everclear,
And hoping for more tomorrow
For my heart fights back
My heart fights for freedom
In a change
That cannot grow faithfully
To the slave of a great wrong.

Alone, Within

I believed in you more as an Oracle
Tongue tied and misery
A vision of perfection
I could not attain alone.

What does it mean to be alone?

I have clouds that tell me history’s greatest moments,
And flowers that share with me great healing.
I have sheep that teach me what patience is,
And goats who are with my to play,
Dogs who speak as they are my best friends,
And cats who are my ancestors.

Alone is a construct
Just as freedom and atomic are.
Just as balance and beauty claim to be.
I am not alone if I keep my eyes open,
My heart open, my ears open.
I am not alone if I am welcoming
And I am not alone if I am one.

What does it mean to be alone
Within one’s self?
Did you find it in full Lotus,
Or Tadasana?

Don’t ask if you can sit with me
For you have sat down here long ago.
I believed in you more as an Oracle
Than a maiden who has lived clear through it all,
Answering all questions with wisdom
I’ve read in ancient books,
As if your born again Nirvana
Is leading me on your path to my own.

I’m unruly,
And this is my own.
I smear my own self along pages
Just long enough
To clear blot my way to
Unsensible un-reasoning,
So that all I need is an Oracle:
A busy sign post with one flashing light.
But all I’ve got is a schoolbus,
Flashing lights of warning,
Danger signals of distance,
Red signs to Stop,
And a safety seat with a seat belt
That doesnt bump too much
As wheels turn
And this bus driver
Takes me further within.

I’m Interested

I’m interested, like the moon is interested in a ruksack.

Take me home, take me there, I want to see where you were made. And I’ll bring my spare tire so I don’t get stuck along the way, because I know a Legend of Boulders that weigh the most upon the road.

But after twilight, after my omnipotent vision among Cassiopeia disperses with Sun’s warmth and glow, I’ll still be looking to the sky, watching for each bomb to blow, each shifting sliver of this silver moon as it orbits slight off of thirty one.

I’m interested. I want to hear the whistle, for without the whistle, I know not who treads there though I’ve heard the Legend told here.