Tag: time

Ann Darrow

From one comes another, you know this could be Switzerland.

Ann Darrow

By Tyler Lucas Mobley

An insurmountable lift 

caught in life’s talons

feet kicking for ground

desperate for any burden

but the one you bear. 

Dragon’s back pontoon

distract time with mistress

minutes, enough to swim

the sound. Insightful clay,

a facial expression, skip

pattern my navajo peyote

a visit. Crow back in the 

gizzard gaze you’ve always

known. Our clay you say,

must be wet everyday

to fend cracks and shatter. 

Your gentle eyes owe

not a cent to your broad

back, heaving against an

Empire State, let me go

I’ll carry you forever, 

an ease of grasp, I’d 

never felt so alive. 

As You Pass By

Just the other day, we remembered.

As You Pass By 

By Tyler Lucas Mobley 

Seated in awkward furth, greek against the ground 

forlorn when overhead, piece twice a maker

cough drama expels pent fascinations that

reside in quonset formations ever cooed by

the wind, resilient messages carved into time,

rumbles of what may come, bathing light sensed

when you see it, gestures of beyond hover sweet

laid to rest at the temple you carry, our smile the 

other day the one only we know about, splashes

unseen dimensions, spire of our brief moment.   

Salute-in-Song

A fun to figure, try to pronounce the title as one word.

Salute-in-Song 

By Tyler Lucas Mobley 

Come rare through all that is above,

condense in style from ingredient isles

a selective chance you knew it had to be. 

Sprung when the space was right, or was it 

time to have a stretch? Bound to distance, an

explanation of all else; a here to there till the 

curve flattens out. Harmonics surfing sound, 

all there is to do is play. 

Strolling Pie Fields

The pictures of her mind, the princess and the…

Strolling Pie Fields

By Tyler Lucas Mobley

If you ordered a dream, I know how you’d take it. 

Strolling pie fields, punctuated by ponds of boiling ramen. 

Well well well what do we have here? 

To phrase a feeling, the greatest gift is knowing you. 

From light we come, then become all it entails. 

Becoming a granular notion, existence a swimming pool. 

The world loves it’s making, and deserves to be told it’s beautiful.

The universe brought us together, and together we discovered a universe. 

If all the sights found your eyes, would you still let them fall on me?

How lovely for all this to lead to, the many tomorrows with you.  

Show Me The World

Somehow we’re all here.

Show Me The World

By Tyler Lucas Mobley

Expectation, fall into place, a falling place,

ahh how you soon learn things have

a way of going where few things go. 

Jurassic acknowledgement, life finds 

a way. Jumanji drums feet lift from earth,

bridge to all may be. 

Be found oh distance one, have your

rathers. Say you galloping sun, for I am 

the only one to wrap your cloak around

and hold me night. Trace suspension 

to n fro gages something well below,

always now, prism rhyme obeys light. 

Heavy is the point, feel the weight of

the world translated through you,

something to push against. Hold me 

down so I may fly, have the moon in

my lap looking at what always held me 

back, in the cloak of time. 

If It’s Time We Must Bear

George Harrison’s Living in the Material World… comes to his son in a dream.

If It’s Time We Must Bear

By Tyler Lucas Mobley

Untool mind to spare time those steps 

never taken. Relishing difference the 

song of new eyes, a respectable space 

comfortable, not overdone. An orbital 

perspective feels the pull of a world

willing you back to cuddle up and listen.

All was a trap beyond our hitherto existence, a

collection of shapes behaving as one striding being 

with the sum of human efforts playing out in precisional 

tattoos, till accusations arise about an unacknowledged

separateness between two arms on one body driving 

the operator mad with itchy skin, deciding best march 

for Andromeda, agonizing surrender.

Arriving before we’re ready if it’s time we must bear, 

recline to find it’s not there, hatching then a chick of

eternal incubation, cute, fluffy, and unchanged. 

Surprised to notice those baby steps were always

at your feet, a breadcrumb trail for mice of men. 

Aboard Nimbus Nine

Most falls in during morning flows. Pen & Page be-pressed for days. Welcome to the Xander Zone!

Aboard Nimbus Nine

By Tyler Mobley

Does the world speak through your eyes? To know is to know anything at all. No fantastic beast, a spice caught mid drizzle down forearm scruff posing to the onion if the slice was worth the cry hoping the answer may remain to remind of what is present, like shower confidence carried into the world, a Sesame Street stride “a good day to garbage grins, bird, thank you for your song, Tree wood you settle your branch brood and leaf yourself blown, any stranger can tell you’re a bit knotted up.” Is that enough? Ok one more, “I went for pizza last time Mr. Tree, leaving your wallet in your trunk is no excuse.” If only money grew on … our backs. 

For the love of God traffic lights have more personality than some elected officials. Respect the runway’s duty, a performance demanding stage. Floor is yours, the lights hot, dance as if you’ve practiced all your life, no doubt you have. Imagine every word spoken by a congressional member must include a jig or dance at a minimum of eight counts, carried out before or after the statement being left to the members discretion. Not a thought mind a movement goes unweighted in expression, art or ability the absolute passion for life shines under recognition in unbearable fashion, if one were to gaze directly at this primordial flare the result would imprint itself onto all seen thereafter for embracing our undeniable order, complexity maintained under elegant guise, meditating bottoms know to sink to rise, morphing bubbles on surface ascents, a dance perhaps, prescribed to those who’ve not thought through the depths from which they’ve sprung.

That ought to sort things out a bit. Dance if a lash bash is all you can manage, propel your mind with Saturn sneeze rockets any less is just another dance, pads of melting butter for skates, we must roll, a days roll presents no choice and every option each time time time time time time time.