Moon

The child beyond the stars

Folder: 
Poetry

From beyond the glass hall
the specters stand and wait
on the eve of the calling of the children
of the seventh moon phase
the gate to the reflecting world will be open
the spirits of the gathering demon will set loose
upon the land and upon the sea
and the skies will be filled with the wings of the damned
so from that day the guardians will await the coming
of the dark child, the devourer of worlds, the traveler from
beyond the stars.

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The View Above My Rearview

The view above my rear view is near you,
capturing your shadow upon my reflection—
this poem is in dedication to the stars,
the moon, and the thought of this one girl.
Dark is my horizon yet I keep my eyes on the
view above my rear view, my surroundings
are dim but my guide shines my front view…
I see in clear view the day’s end in my rear view—
sunlight dimming slowly like night’s
eyelids closing gently as she falls asleep…
Metamorphosis views become my side views—
but I keep my sight on the view above my
rear view; if you only knew what I feel for you…
Venus!
In full bloom I want to howl, devour your love—
until you bleed on me tasting her sweetness on
my fangs…

Driving under the influence of her love, consumption
of emotions, shooting stars throw me off course—
her view above my rear view keeps me mentally
align with the universe…
The view above my rear view is passing me by—
I won’t make it my pandemonium because every
month you come-by…with sincerity I wait for you here.
Speed limit is on cruise control, thoughts out-of-this
world—
seconds feel like minutes, this very moment I don’t
want it to end…so I pretend like I don’t care.
I’m driving faster now, I lost sight of her above my
rear view—
I’m almost home now, David’s star is my compass...
re-route! just to see her again above my rear view…
Visions of this one girl come to mind, but why now?—
thoughts of her and me together in an instant past but
I don’t remember when…

With her sight gone from all my views, I return to the
feeling of lost and found; I lost sight of Venus, but
found compassion in an afterthought…
The night is still young, driving in circles, the influence
is wearing off, the emotions are losing focus, my mind
is weary, eyes teary—
clouds over me cover her light above me, I know my
way home in the dark—
still have this girl on my mind though…could she be
related to the moon??
around the corner from my home, I slow my roll—
stop! park my car…
Venus is no longer a view above my rear view…
she is now the view in my rear view—I remember this
girl now…her name is Luna.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Luna was the Moon...

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My Witching Hour

Down the hall of light, you wait.
I am dancing in the dark.
Being a saint is not my fate.
My soul and Luna will not part.

The shadows in my nirvana creep.
They wait for blessings at the door.
The hidden underworld of my sleep
Is arising to settle the crooked score.

The hourglass encased in ice;
Sacred and jinxed;
Ashen in smothering time.
The destined close their eyes;
My witching hour forever.

The zephyr grips my heart,
As the moon begins the fall.
My vices have become a lark
And the darkness will not stall.

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Moonshine at Midnight

There's a moon among the lightning clouds,
its light abreast the thunder.
I watch with sheeted wastelanders,
as still and vague as flickering shadows.
But there is no flame for their cascading,
nor a source for sight beyond the sky;
the moon a pocked and beaten widow,
whose fondest wish is to reflect
the sun's forgotten luminescence.
I watch with eyes all caked with sand
from a folklore fairy that I'd regarded
as nothing more than a tale to spin
underneath this lonely, battered moon.
I'd lend a hand to caress her cheek,
if she were not so far beyond me.

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In The Arms of The Mother

Folder: 
Poetry

Where it was where it is where it will be again
the sun sets the sun sleeps
the sun goes down on the living

Living dying dreaming under the moon's glow
the moon sings the moon comforts
the moon cradles the people in her arms.

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