Songs of the Moon
From the Milky Way’s canvass
swerving like red wine in glass
dancing to the midnight blues
traversing the utopian realm
of one awed by universes architectural arcs
Flip-flap swings across its axis.
delivering spasms to the feeding eyes
yawning for a closer gaze
with an Oliver twist, I need more
heart racing, mind panting
skin sweating, hungerily awaiting the night ball
at noon’s court
It is mine; it is ours.
an artful slither of a thought
If breakfast were served later
let’s eat dinner early.
for the strength of yesterday’s meal
withstand tomorrow’s pain.
fruitful hope and menacing desire
kills a man before his time
But hell is hell.
Even if today's right is lost in tomorrow’s storm
His demise, A beginning of another’s.
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