It is a strange moment -
a change in the wind, perhaps? -
a shift ever so slight
when I discover
that the next time your eyes drift skyward
and you brightly propose,
"It's nearly the season
for us to go stargazing!"
I will not wander through the valleys
of misplaced envy, grace, and doubt,
before laughing, sighing, and shrugging,
"Yes! We should! Well... Goodnight!"
That instead
I will send my eyes aloft
to meet those flecks of dreams and dew,
before laughing, sighing, and shrugging,
"Well... How about tonight?"

I will arise and forage
not for eggs nor bread
for a bowl of porridge
that gets me out of bed.

Smooth like silk
with added milk
not lumpy mind
‘tis good to find
it thick and grey.
No better way
to start the day.

If the spoon stands upright
no need to  get uptight
it passed  the test
of thin or thick.
Got the Tick.
The Best.

Top Recipe:

Take Slade Prison
Add Ronnie Barker
& Richard Beckinsale
Stir in Fulton Mackay
Mr. Barrowclough to serve.

TOBIAS

"This is the end, my friend…"

Take refuge in the Golden Years.
Retire to an inevitable monastery
plopped on a suburban mountaintop.
Immerse yourself in the lost writings
of Nikita Khrushchev and Harry S Truman.
Learn to cook gizzards and meditate.
Find solace in obsolete atomic weapons,
enlightenment in the raw, butchered
expressions of the naked thermonuclear.
Wangle, ******, fire, and maneuver.
Get in touch with your inner Eichmann.
Devour baskets of tasty deplorables.
Stop clinging to guns and religion.
Love the fascism of the ordinary.
Become content with mere content.
Stop waving daggers at the innocent.
Wash yourself in the blood of the lamb.
Accept that Woodstock was futile.
Admit you can’t get no satisfaction.
Penetrate the goddess of unreason,
and come screaming to your senses.
Declare the dawn of the Age of Onanism.
Keep your fingers out of Pandora's box.
Bid farewell to the ghost of Joe Hill.
Depart the smothering, smooth life
of lust, corn flakes, and competition.
Expand your mind in a mushroom cloud.
Travel upriver to the ****** of Darkness,
legendary source of honeyed generation.
Attain new heights of perfect despair.
Discover the latent bliss of cassowaries,
rooted in their strong disdain for kale.
Play poker with the spirits of the dead.
These are your days of lucky revelation.
Lick magic frogs and witness lost dreams.
Arrive at the perfect wisdom of what is.
Everything and nothing, just what it seems.