She’ll Be Right

She’ll Be Right

By Tyler Lucas Mobley 

These mistakes go on to make themselves, 

worthwhile experience registers of confirmation. 

Hear a buzzing hive, your best has yet beecomb. 

Nest away elixirs spices jewels and devices, 

you’ll need a good starter when space cowboys 

barter, with stows of intergalactic loot. 

Holes of my pocket, carry the flow 

I always wanted. 

Forgone conclusions sit still in the past, 

swan pond gift of reflection. 

A running bet, how to keep your

wager, each day a purpose,

held through stranger danger. 

Beating drum day finds jazz into night, 

rhythms we praise with everyday change.

The Prophet Jeremiah

The Prophet Jeremiah 

By Tyler Lucas Mobley

The prophet Jeremiah blends in a crowd, mustard brushes his sleeve, 

out on divine parole, the stall line at Coachella proved larger than his bladder.  

Tomorrow’s chariot of hope was nonchalant while asking for a plumber,

civilization’s trajectory oversight required Narcan resuscitation.  

Washed up messiah got lost on the way in, 

late for his last supper he broke a thong jaywalking. 

Over the hill Lama, didn’t read the terms & conditions,   

world bearing shoulders shrug off would be miracles 

like water down an armadilla’s back (a W. Bush “armadilla” as seen in Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 9/11 when Barney chases one down a hole).

Humanity’s reserve chute slipped the mind. 

The prophet Jeremiah holds open the door,

the willing take a noxious step off

Hook’s threshing world, into a tooth

fairytale matrix of loss as gain.  

The prophet Jeremiah didn’t ask much,

let your eyes wander and your heart 

speak, together the world listens.