time – Walk Where You Want

Strolling Pie Fields

The pictures of her mind. I got it, 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.