Tag: breast

Key of E Minor

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Enter the Maestro
Long silence and little chatter
Shiny little black shoes
From where I sit
Clacking animatedly
Excited anticipation
Thus begins.

Rusting cello strings
Played in the lower key of E Minor
Pounding but softly on the frets
As a window amidst rain
Can only feel
Agony of the heart
Echoing off engineered walls
Settling to silence
Little flutter.

Hover one moment
About the lower E Minor chord,
Wait for no other beast
At the breast of emancipation
For it shall be only
Figures you’ve called out;
Mighty turmoil
Dripped from thy chin
Upon ancient grains of wood
So cherished between fingers
Resonated into hearts
Of forgotten sadness.

Silence.
No more can movement
Break the spell of horror.
Deathly pale voids;
Look back, unrecognizing
Distracted
Caught in a forever key of E Minor
That remains as sustain
Lost to the world.

Given Name (day 3105)

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I slept on the bear
That woke up my name
And reached for the honeybee hive.
I staggered and shook
And stepped back three steps
And spoke my name backwards
Three times.
Then from my breast
Awoke a lone loon
Who sang as though
Fluttering butterfly,
But my loon dove deep
To find my name’s meaning
Returning two moons later
With pure truth.
And I sat still
On pine cone tree
Listening to the name I was given.

Bushel (day 2954)

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This is not the answer nor should it be left misunderstood
Gods carefully listened but none took action
Forgotten and dead lay the bushel of corn
Raspy, hoarse, brown
Thickening day lay low
And Divine Interpretation was a plan that could not be laid
For dead leaves had fallen and no new growth was expected
Until the decaying layers of slumber departed
Swift onset of thaw set in for another season under her breast.

Solitude (day 2793)

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He could not remain solitude
Friends emerged from all around
One found under a toadstool
One behind a thriving red spruce
Even as the day waned
A coyote came strolling along
Until at last, eyes tired and closing
The moon bid farewell and peace
Then all at once a new day began
A sun stretching over the horizon
And with it, a chorus of white breasted birds
To ring the day begin.

Self Doubt Gallows (day 2417)

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I held my hand out to the sky
An act of bold courage
Asking for the strength within;
It was to me as clear
As the sky I reached towards
Already upon my breast
Telling me what little I knew
What steps I had begun
More sternly though
What steps I had to go.
So I clenched my fist down
Emancipated at once
From the gallows of self doubt.

Consumed (day 2343)

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Take you as I desire now,
Consume you as you cannot quite know.
Greedily I behave –
To passion I’m only a slave.
From collar bone to exposed breast
Melting in my mouth,
I wait for you to to turn around
Whence I find your naked shoulder,
Which leans into
My aroused embrace
– Skin into my breath –
And around your stomach
As we bend forward
My arm pulls all of you to me.
A closeness we can only find
As your soul intwines with mine
And fire begins to penetrate
The confinement of our souls
Where ecstasy envelopes our essence
That lingers where we’ve become.

Four Winds (day 2230)

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I want to be your cannon ball
Your matchstick in the night
I want to shown you everything
Is made just as it should.

For when wind blows to cool you down
A blessing from the North
And when our morning sun does rise
A blessing from the East.

When a tear falls from your eye
To rest upon your lip
A signal to me, your shining star
To be at your evermore.

Like dew drops on a morning leaf
Your heaving breast shall show
Your heart so strong and beating free
Is still about your soul.

When a bird calls to you upon its way
A blessing from the South
Your eyes, I watch, closing to this day
A blessing from the West.

So if your fright shall hold you back
Into my arms you’ll fall
To be at last, as I’ll guard you,
The guardian of my soul.

Four Winds by Ned Tobin

Can Love (day 1611)

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I don’t think I can love any other way
Then a heavy anchor tugging
Like window screen wipers
On at a very fast speed.
My storm is perfect and irregular
As its onslaught takes no prisoners
And leaves memories about my skin
Like thin veins navigating through
Lifelines of a thousand year old tree.
Some days I grasp like fallen soldiers
Stranded in limbo, crying out
The name signed with lipstick
Resting on a breast pocket postcard.
On other days, I recline in bliss
As a cackling fire warms my toes
And a pair of storyline mukluks
Bring me warm tea,
Reminding me of good choices I made.
I carry my tokens with me; inside.
I believe there should be no other way.
I believe that love supersedes
The cravings and doesn’t rely on
Place holders that distract real meaning
And distort intentions
In some silly ploy for attention
And a pitiful future
I will not dare seek to define.
I believe in redefinition absolutely,
But redefinition is never easy to agree with,
For the unsettling Demons, nay,
The unsettling Angels of my instinct
Carry with them a fire
That burns so dark in my soul
That I cry when they meet for tribunal.
I don’t think I can love any other way,
And no holiday nor any reward
Has ever shown me otherwise.

Coconut Oil (day 1477)

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Dear George,

I’ve been wandering the streets late at night wondering where I am, what I’m doing here, how I got here, what day it is. I know this is kind of silly, just a simple glance at my watch I’ve begun to wear again, but I think it’s more in theory: I’m lost. Can you associate?

I don’t look at my hands much anymore. They’ve become acceptable. I now am fascinated with my chin. The various states of hair growth, the different shape it takes upon waking, after shaving, after showering, at night, in the morning. Have you ever noticed this difference?

It has become obvious to me that my morbid thoughts aren’t normal. No, I am not always dying. The pain in my hip is not my insides unwinding. The twitch in my breast isn’t what it feels like to have your lung spewing it’s contents into my stomach. My throat glands will hurt that much if I jab them consistently. Ears aren’t meant for sharp objects, nor is my nose, throat, bum…

Well, the rumors are true. I’ve begun to enjoy the pleasures of massage. Can you believe I went this long in life without ever truly exploring what my muscles could handle, besides that which I do for muscle growth? I get lost for good lengths of time just trying to understand why my muscle is flip-flopping as it does. I notice when I lie flat on the ground that a muscle in my back shifts a bit. I notice my calves are incredibly tight. And to have somebody else do it for me?! Goodness.

Life changed.

Have you discovered the wonders of coconut oil yet?

With all my brotherly love,

Red.