Garded and stepped all over mind
you self proclaimed position in power,
the meaning of tomorrow, and yesterday,
In hands so naive and selfish you stand,
In between holes in the ground and space
filled with pictures, and faces alive,stuck
in the past, im taken by your beauty.
My lonely shoes will walk one last time,
down those empty streets and spirits on fire,
flowers without desire, no power ever lasts.
Only fools believe time is forever,never
carved out painted and sprayed with piss,
smell this tragic moment let it soak in,
nothing or something, choose or loose,
old home never takes prisoners, only time
can spit its jealousy at you, just stand there,
be the victim on poster of timeless heroes,
lost and drunk on moonshine, stars with smile
look up, there is nothing but us, just us, only dust.
We’ll dance to the melody of moonshine
till the sun rises at the dreaming dawn.
I know you’ll truly be absolutely mine
before to the horizon I’m forever gone.
We’ll dance to the tune of spring breeze,
wafting on the rhythm of the stardust.
You’ll know what true love really is,
when I’ll sail beyond the sea of lust.
We’ll dance to the music of the rolling waves,
spreading on the pearly shore of passion sea.
You’ll know for me how your heart craves
when in your wilderness I won’t ever be.
We’ll dance to the song of the silver sand,
spinning with the shimmer of the moon ray.
You’ll feel the touch of longing of my hand
when walking on your footprints I’ll go away.
In the twilight gleam it’s me you’ll remember
when I’ll be forever out of your morose sight.
In the recess of your memory you’ll hear
the love song we sang once in moonshine night.
We’ll dance to the melody of moonshine
till the sun rises at the dreaming dawn.
I know you’ll truly be absolutely mine
before to the horizon I’m forever gone.
The luminous crescent of shining silver sliver ascends
with silent slither on the satin slope of the sapphire sky,
entices the cadence of dancing sequins sprayed by nebula,
pulsates through the phosphorus glow of the argentine night.
Rhapsody rolls on the waltzing ripples of the rapturous river,
performed in the ballet of myriad floating flakes of the moon.
Celestial flecks of your charisma cascade with ethereal lilt,
flood me in the torrential tide of immersing emotion.
The euphoric moon slices spread on the ebullient river,
I hold one in a cup of still water in the palm of my hand.
Beneath the mystique shroud of the stardust sheen
I perceive the esoteric essence of love laced by lunar lure.
In its tranquil depth I drown the dregs of my despair,
torrents of fervent joy flow in serpentine course from you.
The ripples of allure dance on your smiling face in beguiling air,
flicker the shimmer of my soul with the cadence of moonshine.
show us your brightside
spare us farsided blackness~
thyne kind o
r
b i t
r
e
s s
Candle glow at midnight,
The hatch is locked
A scrambling splutter
As I reach for the key of circles, bolts and lines.
But just as before. The circle ends 4 corners behind
And I'm scrambling again for another key
I plead the glow;
It flickers as I-
Well, I,
I cherish my existence once more
As another circle starts to grow...
My foot taps to the humming,
Blood rushing under my skin, I'm thrown to the couch–
It's way past midnight. Immobile, so I curb the corner.
Did I feel the end?
For better or worse, the hatch unlocks, no key.
My head tilts, and
I can't seem
To keep the colours uniform again.
I spiral to only splatters of *pink* and *green* caressing the wall
Overwhelmingly.
Please, don't, love.
But I do, do I? FOR WHAT PURPOSE?
I plead once more.
And become void, I hate. I hate. I hate.
But only pink could resonate.
Midnight came and went as perilous as a wolf howling at the moon.
—by poet
Tease of time, palpitating pearls,
she’s flirting with the bluest eyes,
framed in heaven’s clouds. Girlish curls
capture a sigh and peer clockwise.
With princess charm, she winked, half-turned
to run, ascend the starry night.
One glass slipper in moonshine; spurned
like a pauper in class-ignite.
Will the foolish prince sip from the glass?
Today the sun is shining
Tonite there will be a bad moon rising
It is killing season
As usual for no reason
One member split on one of their own
They going to catch him and take him down
They going to take him down to the river
And remove his liver.
As the member shakes and shiver
He thinks about the river
A famous place to kill a member
That he can clearly remember
He remembers the begging for a life
Against the victims neck a big knife
He can’t avoid the outcome
In the gang’s eyes he is scum
Now the moon is rising
And the gang is full of despising
He knows they going to cut him down to size
As he cries
How can he convince them
To spare him
The gang catches up with him
His future looks very grim.
He beg’s to be forgiven
But the gang is driven
They want to see his death
See him take his last breath
The next day he is found
Hands and feet bound
Laying on the ground
His liver could not be found.
Silhouette of tree
Bending against skeleton breeze
Dipped in gold moonshine
Moonshine slips on ice
Silver stars glow despite snow
Frost bitten fingers
Oh, Moonshiner, man of the mountains high,
Where whispers of wind and wildcats' cry.
Your heart a kiln, your soul aflame,
With the secret of white lightning's name.
In hollows deep, your still does hum,
A symphony of steam, a hidden drum.
From fields of corn, a golden juice,
To fiery spirit, in silver cruse.
They call it 'stump water,' 'skullcracker,' too,
This potent elixir, born of dew,
A 'ruckus juice,' for joy and strife,
A taste of freedom, a taste of life.
You're a craftsman skilled, a master bold,
In the art of alchemy, stories untold.
With fire and patience, you coax it forth,
A spirit potent, of the mountain's worth.
So, raise a glass, to the moonshiner's art,
A rebel's brew, to stir the heart,
A taste of freedom, a whisper in the night,
A lightning flash, a fiery light.
Snow drop moonshine
star threaded
blanket;
Partied hard;
Squandered
your light
elevating in dreams.
So much of yesterday I can clearly see.
There was a man duly a part of my history.
He lived up the road a short distance from us.
We passed his house every day to catch the school bus.
Everyone called him by his last name, which was Baine.
I remember a face that seemed filled with lots of pain.
A hard-working man, but he seldom laughed or expressed joy.
He was the type of man that no one wanted to confront or annoy.
There was one thing about him that enabled me to better understand.
He had a younger wife named Bebe who left him for another younger man.
From that time onward he lived alone and made lots of 'moonshine'.
When I was just a boy, Mr. Baine became a very good friend of mine.
We both loved baseball, and his favorite team was the New York Yankees.
I was a Dodger fan, but we remained friends in spite of the rivalries.
Coming home from school one day, we all noticed that the entire roadway
had the smell of moonshine. It was obvious to us that Mr. Baine's whisky
still had been discovered by law enforcement.
The ancient slivered
white moon piece
hangs webbed,
Quite entangled
in the unyielding wintering
of maple's stark branching.
As watch watching does he watch,
that thin silvered white moon crescent,
seeing all from his high perch,
His ancient partner,
the weary beleaguered planet
Earth, slow-roasting
from green
to tan
to brown,
Barbequed by fellow traveler,
the well-respected
Mr. Sun.
a glowing spirit moon awaits chemistry to open its gateway
waxing gibbous moon
orb above horizon....
afternoon sun shines
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