Don't gather! This land is freezing
The gates of fortune were smashed
Black **** remaining
Toxic wasteland
Eagles and children gather there
Whispering short words
Solely understood by kids and birds

Since then a veil is on your skin
Milky smooth skin of love
I plunged into your skin
Stayed for long and panted
Your skin is pollinated by the night
I grab your skin
That's a good place
I feel at home here

Gather to play!
Monkeys are squealing in the valley
Down by the sea gate
Life consists of foam there
Sweet foam beating against rocks
We are lying on these rocks
Sheltered from the monkey's squealing
The screams of the foam are louder!
Foam
Good, precious, excellent foam

In the navel of our world
Red, giant, relentless
In the navel of the eyes
Blue, gracious, benevolent

Just a dream led me this far
To the navel of our world
To a path of stars
From the color of our nights

This is just a dream
White, evil, innocent
In the navel of our love
Black, raging, bountiful

I am just a dream
From the language of the heart
Made of our live
Just a dream

From cloths of colorful silk
Flapping through the desert
Where I used to pick up sand
A child looking for water
Called belt head
Just a dream!
Made of punches
Conceived in the dust of blood
Pain of the ******
Wrath of the giant
Screams of the barbarians
Just a dream

Literate monkeys raised me
After the desert's solitude
Removing the belt from my head
Whispering good words
Carrying me to the flowers
Embedding me in a fragrant world
A scent of mothers and *******
So I grew

Just a dream
In the navel of our world
Inside the ancient child's room
For you
Just a dream

I gaze up at the sky:
all day cast in shades of blue
as clouds move in harmony
when night shades of darkness
etch textured moonlight watching
in the wake of this passing day.

I think of you in nautical miles:
for in whatever distance we are
we share the same sky
over a smooth or rough sea
reflecting the same drops of water
in hues of blue in my imagination
forming you on the horizon.

It is then I listen out
in the solitude of my room:
some times in the same dark
some times in the same light
for the still sound of your voice
for the plain sight of your smile.

Tobias

The Crowd rises
A standing ovation ensues
You've won your "prizes"
Now, payment is due

If you write without loss
Then there is nary a cost
If you write from pain
It all sounds the same

If you write for truth & beauty
If writing is your duty
If the words won't cease
No sleep, no release

When it all comes in too fast
Future hopes, moments past
When words are a blur
And listless, we stir

Racing. Racing. Racing.

Faster, harder, better, more strong
A place where we never belong
In each death, I write a song
Against the cacophony of the throng

Less is more
(More or less)
Allow the future you behest
Worry not for the 'test'
Of creativity in arrest

Write Good Words.

The rain pelts the ground.
The tender meteorological and geological affair.
Here I am--still around.
For being soaked, outside--I cannot care.

A particular vantage from where I now stay.
The longest of the short-term residents.
A 'welcome' worn-out in every way.
Conquered, yet another flippant transient.

On this gray, rainy day.

From my precipice, I see the unlikely metal birds take flight.
Hulks of the impossible take speed, roaring then soaring.
And in my exile, I sleep alone at night.
Visions of what never was. Longing, adoring.

The turbines and fiberglass save me from despair.
Awake again, Envious, actualization of a dream.
Two-hundred tons fight gravity and take air.
A small sliver, grounded. I know not what I mean.

Into nothingness, I would fly.
Anywhere. Someplace, other than here.
Admonished, no questions of, 'why?'.
Take the skies, freedom to steer.

Peering down from a terrestial heap,
contemplating the debate at the seams,
exposing dim lights and the ones asleep.

I sat awake, in solitude, lost like a sheep.
Per(re?)ceiving all the secrets in ones dreams;
beneath the veil, and the ones that we keep.

What the bars in ones mind are made of are cheap:
confining and containing what one can gleam
from the empty gaps and the mental leaps.

I hope those objects and night-lights help you sleep;
Plato's shadowy projections move with moonbeams,
the brimful moon ebbing causes the shadows to creep.

The farside is bare, in twilight;
the mind becomes a maverick:
turning fireflies to winking sprights.

Can you regard all that I see
when you dream with eyes-closed?
And In your dream do people speak in poem or prose?

Are you transmitting dimensions of three
or are you given your dreams?

Do you wonder who contains those moments
and where they are received?

If heaven is dreaming nigh
I wonder what we would be

If God sent a message
what might be the presage;
And what might be the conveyance?

When you're dreaming Angels touch the ground,
revealing all that is bound.
~dancing with the beyond~
And (angels) evaporate in the dawn, or atleast seeming..

Let your eyes unlock~
Quick! The Gates are sealing
Run to recapture all that they've been stealing:
From all those who wish to lower your cieling.

---

A gypsy is whistling who's been up all night.
The dreams of many slip into hidden spaces:
Closets and under the bed; spirits dissipate.

As morning's light eminates
What do you see?

i hope you’re reading this right now because it would mean that i’m still on your mind even if i’m not in your heart.

if you’re reading this, however, please stop. spare me whatever amount of dignity i have left.

and if you still haven’t stopped reading and you plan to read until the very end, then don’t ever let me know; allow me a safe sense of anonymity, will you?

alright. so. i miss you. you don’t believe in yesterdays but i missed you yesterday and you believe tomorrows are todays but i know that i miss you today and i’ll miss you in a different way; more painfully and more familiarly tomorrow and everyday.

i miss you so much and it hurts so bad but it’s okay, you know? take your time and take some space— take all the time in the world and take all the space you need; it’s all yours. i meant it when i said i’d give you the world and if you want time and space then it’s all yours. everything is yours.

i’ll miss you, though. i don’t know if you would care but yeah, i’d miss you. i miss you. but it’s okay, as i said, yeah? it’s okay as long as you’re happy. you do you and i’ll do me. and if you need me, then i’ll be there even if we’re worlds and aeons apart.

i hope that someday we’ll meet and things will be different. i feel it in my bones but i don’t want to lie to myself but it’s the truth... i think? i don’t know. all i know is that i miss you and that i hope you’ll never truly let go of me.

(and this isn’t about me, it’s about you, but i personally can’t see myself without you so please don’t let go. don’t let me go. don’t forget my name or my face and don’t let go.)

After the editor
dissected my manuscript
with a sharp red pencil,
he handed it back
and I said, "you killed it,"
to which he replied,
"it was already dead."

until
we reach
the
end my dear friend
and
our
souls drift towards the vintage grave
then
we
are
the
faithful bookends
towards
the
very end