POETRY: The Moon’s Lunacy

Too bold and too brazen, set sunlit clouds of envious hues
They form and dither without recollect of heart’s healing
They cannot see what heaviness lies on the moon’s shoulders
For the moon hides from the warmth it dreams in luminous skies
and finds solace in diamond tears shining like dreadful gnats
The lovestruck lunatic would bat frantically at the bothersome reminders
Before finally accepting it’s oblivious ocean of emotions and heartaches
For what good is it to feel these flames of lustful woes and conundrums?
Better to wallow in icy retreat until the night he can face his foes
A group of gathering willows with nimble intentions and prickely fingers
Waiting to pluck the starstruck eyes out of lightheaded lovers
and rest those precious jewels at the feet of the cruel older sun
Whose whole purpose in the mighty expanse of existence is to torture
To hold ones fantasies and crystal hopes before one’s eyeless hallow
And melt them away with absurd glimmers and outrageous laughter
This is why The Moon sometimes sits half the apple he used to reflect
The only true comfort he can ever feel, the only oneness to illuminate
Is when the thunderous Sun is forced headfirst into a sea of regret
and extinguished as he passes from marmalade to blackened abyss
This is the one time the Moon will bellow with all it’s mad brightness
And yet this only can happen lightly in all of his dreary transcendence
For there they are, the diamond perpetrators of sorrow and lost causes
whispering in his perfect ear of what he can’t and will never have.
And his icy heart sometimes breaks, and his own tears flutter down
And once more Winter is called on by the Moon’s cold sadness.

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One Response

  1. All the poems are unsurprisingly depressing, cause that’s what THEY have done to us

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