She's sweet moondust,
glows splendidly,
is hypnotic.

Her moods are fleeting,
she suffers from phases
& craziness abounds,
I can feel it
& yet,
I am totally mesmerized
by her seductiveness.

When our eyes meet,
I become intoxicated,
am so in love
with her dark
****-energy.

She makes me full,
we need to kiss &
burn the night away,
soon.

Many moons,
have passed over my headpiece,
as you leave me behind,
in moondust & ashes each night,

You collect on the bookshelves,
I keep here,
collecting on hearts with your light,
dusting my world with your beauty,
diminutives in bits of the white,

This is not the end of the journey,
 this a mere tiny part of the flight,
and I've not seen any more shiny,
or any star nearly as bright,

Though I am unable to see you now,
or touch your skin ever again,
or truly hear you with my ear,
I still miss you so my friend,

I know I cannot be near you now,
I cannot be where you are,
as you are but a twinkling light,
a brilliant & distant, star-

If it was not but for the moon dust,
my heart wouldn't,
be able to see you anymore either.

Ma Cherie © 2017

"
"nor is this a fact," nor is my syntax the 'true.'
i can't use quotations in the way i'd like to,
to allow the paradoxical to seep through
in the sly act of revising 'this' honestly--
merging truth with falsity, to silently see--
grammar become a means to shatter certitude

"i can't tell the 'truth' with these ["i can't tell the 'truth'
with these{...} very words"] very words"; i really can't...
it's somewhat unfair to communicants, this rant.
let me bolster your trust by not telling it slant:
in fact, it's not poetry, not from this angle.
maybe when you read, this 'this' will be poetic?
meh, i'm relying on telling, not showing. so...
quiet's often better than such entanglement

but this is not about value, it's about truth.
sincerely, i doubt i'll keep those two separate

perhaps... if you pretend i'm a prolix parrot,
who happened through some acosmic accident
to be the transmigrated daimon-soul of Sappho,
or Hypatia, Gertrude Stein or Plath even...
(yeah, i'm like a Cretan for going on): they weren't,
'your gobbledygoo,' or 'Sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet tea.'
stripped bare at the Caesareum, being murdered
for the crime of godlessness or female wisdom
spoken in the scapegoat-hungry rule of Rome...
this is not what they were, not the whole truth, at all
and though from winds of ****** she spoke in verse
that her vast poetic fame 'was no delusion:'
and that, 'dead, I won't be forgotten,' i fail,
painfully fail, to trace into a verbal womb
the seeds of those that transformed all, yet now entombed...
for to remember them in me is to revise,
reduce, sadly in that poetic untruth found...

"this" is a gestalt, i guess i'll have to say,
a "figure-ground," a floating 'shape' in some context,
one that you embody too, somehow, not in text;
even through a distant sharing, it's realized
(hold onto the random metaphors you find,
they're probably better than what's in my mind)
and to share this with you now, to hypocritize,
it's lunacy. i mean, the moon, the poetic moon
is not a meme, is not a custom, is not a poetic fact,
in fact, it's not in this poem, and if it were--
being televised with some authentic ontic pixel-space--
here between the lines augmented mOOn for you
it would prove how unpoetic the poem is, and how
very true the moon is, if it were here, right quoteunquote"here"
ineffably punctuated
            -- well, let me try
and fail again to make Erasmus proud:
the quotes would hang about romantic beams
parentheses to echo adjectival spectra streams,
an underscore horizonal and asterisks for stars.
but not these * asterisks,
or those_types of underscores--
better (parentheses) and far more "quothy" "quotes"--
the punctuation would literally ^punctuate^ the sky of my text.
time would stop.                                                            ­                   and that would be poetic.
you don't need to breathe, even; not this 'you,' in this moment
(the one i've failed to capture):
'i will put you on the moon' i say,
'and sit you buoyant by the buddha-astronaut, who,
in answer to the question sprinkles moondust in slow motion,
symbol-guiding realness, my "finger" for solution,
to present to you again, what is present to me now.
the Russian names, the rest of names, the 'face' some say cries, "sweetly,"
as if we could use the moon's sympathy,
or as if we should feel it for the white rock that elliptically defines us,
dances to our rhythm, (the tides, the ****** huntress)
the one that taught us to dance,
the one that taught us to yearn darkly in surreal eclipse
more hopefully for the chance of cataclysmic doom
some Greeks thought it was a disco ball, after enough *****, that Dionysian night,
some Greeks thought it was a disc,
like a coin that flipped just right
to match it's dance about our pearoid earth
in synchrony's anachronistic mirth.
i would lick each Bacchant clean to learn the mysteries of poem
i would lick each Bacchant clean. period. no music or noema known
this 'poem' is not a "poem"
in a very real sense
i did not make this,
nor did i compose or create it.
if you're not following it's ok, i'm barely there myself -- i'm trying to refer to...
the elliptical shape that certain publishers use
to refer to fundierung
the double-founding,
reversibility,
the flesh of passive
the flesh of active
enfleshed perceiving
the common meaning we contribute
but can't attribute to any source we express!
(however distorted) after the fact, yes! --
either all that, or the meaning you get from "this" act
doubly-enfolded, with two pairs of hands kneading the same dough,
two pairs of eyes weaving the same lOOm,
another Indra's net to sew,
in meaning you give now,
the techne of your reader's mind
and the meaning i'd wish to know,
if i were still writing what you are reading,
doing my best to ignore the title
and to write something worthwhile...

i do wish i could show it to you the way i love it in your own poetry,
but you would know that, already, without my love

without my unpoetic lack of facts, my rhymes.
free of poems, free to flout the literary sea.
free to be unwordly, and let the contradictions fly
"

laying on my back
in that field,
the unending expanse so close
to my touch.
i reach up
and attempt to graze a star
with my fingertip,
but instead only emptiness
reaches me,
the cool nighttime air
swirling around my hand.
my arm lowers to my side again
and my sight flows
over the stars,
like scattered moondust
in the inky sky.
as they twinkle their way
into my soul,
into my being,
i notice
a solitary wisp of cloud
lingering before the moon,
dulling its details
but never its glow.
crickets chirp around me,
fireflies blink
and fade in and out of view,
dancing just above the grass.
the air is damp
and i am vaguely aware
of the water droplets
seeping through my blanket
and into my clothes.
i swear
i can almost see the lines
connecting each star
to form constellations.
i sigh,
stand up,
roll my blanket,
and make a promise to the night.

i will return.

-l.s.

A kid I was when on way to school I caught her pretty face
Fell for her can’t call it love the sweet girl in school dress
She stood on her door a beauty of yore waiting for the bus
My limbs went limp grew butterfly wings she was my childhood crush.

I thought she knew felt it was my due flew me a bewitching smile
Waved her hands and knowing my mind she looked at me awhile
Each day on that way as I passed by her I caught in her eyes a gleam
Read in her waves a bridging of hearts in her smile an unfathomable dream.

No ordinary path it was a dream walk for nothing I could miss out the chance
To have a glimpse of her catch those moments forever get lost in strange romance
The ******* the door she made my spirit soar she was close yet a distant star
Took me on fancy flight her smiles glowing bright the child could never touch her.

I set myself a rule not to take break from school but to pass everyday by her
It’s no wonder some things last forever some memories with time never blur
She my whim’s fair red ribbon in her hair stood there in her white skirt
A petite white dove radiating precious love she enamored the little boy’s heart.

In the lost years’ light burns a patch bright where shines her unearthly face
A girl in her teen not aging always green occupying a permanent space
I don’t have of her anything more to remember what remains is so divine
The girl in her teen could be thirteen or fourteen and I was a boy of nine.

A journey followed by a road, reaching to the distant sky,
Feelings which cannot be conveyed in words, but actions, disappear in the sea of truths and lies, under the drifting clouds of the night,
A red thread, connecting us without having the answer to where it actually leads, meaningless questions remain floating in thin air,
Ages fade but my infinite lifespan, allows me to shine for you forever,
My heart reflects your tears, which before moistened the earth below us, making me overflow with emotions I couldn't even understand,
Space and time, are for me an obsticle, which I must overcome,
So my gaze, even though is fraught with sin, lead you to happiness.
Spread like moondust across a damaged surface, you departed into the unknown of the night, disappearing within layers of darkness,
Yet, I am not sad for even if you may not be with me from now on,
Always cheering for me to move forward, it would be a shame to give up now, even if we had our troubles, fights and sometimes disagreed.
And if we can never return to the past, let's enjoy the allure moonlight
Together we laughed and cried, yet this dream ended today,
What's left are the memories and the feelings I have felt.

~ Umi

The moon dusts off the rust,
Begonias woebegone,
Withering wisterias forlorn.

And in the morning,
A flower of mourning.

A blossom, a *****,
Baby's breath
In a smug golden wreath

Left bright yellow carnations
Of shifting grey hues,

Hard-to-pinpoint
Variations;
There might have been some blues.

living bodies fluttering in the sky,
like stars that cease helplessly
to cross paths.
the gleaming bodies that light up
the eternal navy canvas.
thus when the scattered moon dusts
in the sky collided,
consuming eachothers,
they faded into the waves of darkness
of an eternal night.

Write a happy story,
They said.
They did not know
Pencils grow heavier
As they scratch lies across a page.

Pretty girl,
Handsome boy.
Sparks that flew
Hearts that grew
Lips that met.

Write a happy story,
They said.
They did not know
That life gets in the way
Of fledging happiness.

Pretty girl,
Handsome boy.
Words that fell
Down the nape of her neck
And into her chest.
Fingers that caressed
The line of his jaw
And the ridge of her cheek.
Whispers that rose
Yielding into the ice of the moon
And crept into the lining of their souls.

Write a happy story,
They said.
They did not know
Happiness carries the inevitability
Of pain underneath its wings.


Pretty girl,
Handsome boy.
One basket of memories never made
And of growing disappointments.
One slowly cooling heart.
Two stale throats musty and seldom used.

Write a happy story,
They said.
They did not know
That no matter how much heart’s-blood
You pour into their soul,
Sooner or later, destiny comes to play.
Even the greatest love story,
eventually finds an end.  

Pretty girl,
Handsome boy.
Fairy-tales incarnate.
But fairy-tales cannot survive in this world.
The magic mirrors cracked.
The poisoned apples fail.
The dragons triumph.
The animals voiceless.
The princes leave.
The princesses stray.

Write a happy story,
They said.
I wrote them a fairy tale,
But happiness had already flown away,
And my pencil had been
Too dull to capture it again.

Old man they say there's magic
In your friendly face above
They say your smile can turn the tide
And inspire a human love
So I prayed you'd sprinkle moondust
On her sweet lips soft and warm
So when I get to kiss her
The kiss could last till dawn

But your old smile is only
Valleys of the moon
If lovers give you credit
I hate bursting their balloon
For her love would be all mine
If your magic was divine
Your smile is only
Valleys of the moon

Your skills are just a legend
Tied to that old cratered face
If you could cast a spell on her
I would know her warm embrace
But those asteroids that carved your smile
Were just an act of chance
You couldn't help me reach her
You know zero of romance

For your smile is only
Valleys of the moon
If lovers give you credit
I hate bursting their balloon
For her love would be all mine
If your magic was divine
Your smile is only
Valleys of the moon


[Music by Dawn Diamond]

Cast your wishes to the wind
Launch your desires to the sea
Throw your emotions to the ocean
Set your most intimate aspects free
Most of all, leave your secrets safe from me
Baby, I'm an anchor
rusted steel exposed to the seaward breeze
aching to race from the sun to the darkest depths
pulling you under in my selfish plummet
there's no escaping the salty abyss I'm rushing towards
You see the bottom suits me, beautifully
perhaps for the bottom is nothing new to me
dwelling out of touch from the sun's rays
never yearning for the warmth of another to rouse me from the darkness
for perhaps the bottom was always meant to be home
rusted steel set perfectly in the moondust sand of an ocean's farthest depths
so cast your wishes to the wind, never tied to the chains linked to me
Baby, I'm an anchor
I was never meant to be
soaring in the winds, together with you set free...

This song has always reminded me of you,
Even in the short months when you were plastered to my sky
Blinding me with your ephemeral light.
I guess it was the pessimist in me,
Predicting tragedies and crushing fantasies
Small enough to snort up my slimy nostrils.
Oh, how brightly you would shine then-
How fiercely you would burn.
I had been cold for so long, born inside a prison of ice
Where the only thing that would circulate was
Distance and Loneliness.
You warmed me, allowing my body
To feel a pulse of happiness
That it had never known.

You let me experience a sunny day
Only to fall out of my deep blue and roll into the ambushing darkness.

How quick the sun can drop away...

You left me stained with years of memories
That can't be erased, they stay lingering.
And this bitter taste engraved on my tongue
Will be what I expect from any form of love.
I know, one day you'll be happy without me
But I'll always look to the sky with the deepest of longings
Only to find that it's dark and empty.
Heavy rain washes over me,
In waves of grey and black.
This is all I see,
All that I am
All I'll be
Without you, nothing.
Empty, lonely, pathetic nothing.
Walking through fields of clouds and moondust,
Kicking up corpses of hopeful wishes and love.

-SLuR

I read a story to my son. Really,
I am composing it, off the cuff, but
there is no reason his mother should know.

One day, Elliott built a rocket ship.
His rocket ship was going to take him to the moon.

The boy sees nothing silly in this, and
for a second, I don't, either.

And every spare minute, Elliott worked on his rocket.
When he was at school, he drew out in
blue, and chalk-white, a dream for his rocket.
When his mother told him to do his homework,
he worked on his rocket.
When his mother left him
in the dining room to finish his carrots,
he worked on his rocket.
"I wish I could work on a rocket,
instead of eating vegetables."
Tonight, you won't have to.

One day, Elliott finished his rocket, and he went to the moon.

From the Moon, he heard the earth mumble.
From the moon, he saw the tide hug the shore,
and knock down his sister's sandcastle, left
on the beach from the summer before.
From the moon.

"He saw China!"
And Brazil. And India.
"And he got to see what his school looks like at night!"
He wouldn't know that, as a a boy, I went safely walking there,
and as a foulmouthed teen, I was drunk in the playground, at night.
That I looked down, from the hospital adjacent when my father was there.

He asks if, from the moon, you could see plain
the shadows of the craters on our planet, too broad
to behold, on sidewalks and soccerfields, during a game.
"You could. All the shadows, in the cities and the seas."
And his ruby face relaxes, deeply struck,
and musing, I think, that maybe
shadows aren't all bad.

Elliott came back, in time that his mother,
could wake him up, and he could loudly fake a snore.
And he righted his sister's sandcastle.
He went to Brazil.
He was drunk on playgrounds.
He saw shadows. They weren't so bad.

And often, when he would walk on the
sidewalk, his feet would feel light, like he
was on the moon again.

"Because the Moon has no gravity."
No gravity at all.

When I leave, and land beside my wife in bed,
I admire the helmet on my mantel,
I crumble old moondust in the paw of my suit,
I feel, still, the dimples of the sheets,
light, and shadowed, like the clefts of the moon.

We are nothing that matters,
created in mystery
while slowly dissolving to dust.
Pretentions and delusions our comfort as reality bites with it's point filed teeth.

We are not made of stars, nor moondust, we are products of all that has gone before and the destruction of all that is yet to be. 

I yearn to see this life through a rearview mirror, it's withered form a speck on the far horizon, for the hurt to stop as this knife in my back plunges further into my sickened depths, severing my spine from all it holds dear. 

I yearn for silence, for these thoughts to stop spewing from my acid tongue, burning my unkissed lips with a million wasted words while attempting to say only one.

Minutes turn into months, decades of meaningless days and miniscule triumphs. 

The stage is set, my role is uncast but the curtain never falls, I stumble wildly through blind utterances, dreaming darkly, while anxiously awaiting the applause that will herald my passing.

This is not living.

Sunshine and moondust adorned my reverie,
I miss you,
Like the sun that sets before my eyes,
Within my vision,
But never within my grasps.

burning hues of red,
of bright indigo and yellow,
crashed into the grey horizon
(you are told
your eyes should rest soon),
do not stay as witness
when the depths come
in furious waves of regrets
to drown the ache that
refuses pleas to be heard
by his eyes
denies truth to seen,as
it falls on deaf ears


again i hold my breath,
i'll sink further into the pit
of madness crafted by
my own mind
through your words,
you will ignore their
silence that comes
piercing through,
a thousand decibels
reminding you:
who the hell was I meant
nothing to you,
better will you be loved,
so much more you could be
if you choose to bury
me in the moondust and leave
as for I,
when you've outlived
every bullet,every blade
greeting you in their
violent glory,
when your lungs
are accustomed to the abuse,
you'll learn how to hold your
breath, and
how beautifully painful
it is to beg,cry,and hurt underwater
where tears aren't real,
and pain serves as oxygen


one day,
my body will untangle
itself from its endless slumber
as how you pried off your fingers,
your hands,from their hold
on this cold body,
you know,
i used to be your anchor
now i'm just dead weight
holding you down with me
as i drown
you know,
this corpse understands
how hard it is to love
someone who's
always treading lightly,
who can't shine as bright
as other dying things,
who isn't as phenomenal,
as world-stopping, as mesmerizing
as how your heart pleases
this dying creature knows
that love will never be given
to something that
keeps on bleeding hurt


you should bid farewell soon,
do not stay as witness
leave while it's dark enough,
while the facade could still
lie for us,
leave,let the water wash ashore
let it devour the remains,
let it carry this shipwreck
to its abyss
where,
the body will decompose,
it will die and forget
what the heart wants to remember,
what the mind denies touching
i know,
you will remember
to associate me
with your darkness and demons
who wear another pretty face
and i will remember to forget
the way you wanted to forget me
i will hold my breath until the Sun
could assure me of your departure
-W.

Violence lingers in your eyes.
No wonder you can't sleep,
Soundly through the night.
Not will all the waste still floating in the sky.

A deadly chemical, when ignited.
A Super Nova on steroids.
Explosive and temperamental.
Don't get too excited,
Or you'll turn into a deadly weapon.
Still fixated on the darkest of nights.
Forgetting is easier said than done.

There's a flicker of light behind your eyes.
Let it burn bright.
Don't hold back,
The passion that thrives.

Good morning, Mister Moon, I guess you never sleep
It's 4 a.m. and I'm still counting sheep
I want you on my side to bring her to my place
Without her smile, your moonlight's such a waste


In your gentle light her warm lips feel so right
A little moondust could make these prospects bright
She takes my breath when I see her come in sight
So send your beams and warm her heart tonight

Please Mister Moon, my easy going friend
I pray you'll help me reach her heart again
I crave her touch in your warm moonlight glow
She stirs the strongest feeling life can know

You've always done such magic things before
So turn the tide and make her mine once more
I'll pull her close behind that cloudy draw
I swear I'll love her by the highest law




Copyright Louis Brown

If I could open my heart
and fill a rocketship with my feelings,
it'd explode on take off
and knock the stars off their hidden strings
and as they floated down to earth,
I'd give each and every one to you.

Your eyes would twinkle in delight
and you would remain happily speechless
as the galaxy fell around you
bursting with my love.

Moondust would add glitter to your shine
and sparks of sunshine
would light the sky,
like natural fireworks,
just to celebrate you in my life!

(smoke barrelled down
the valley and across
the lake, visible
only through luminous
moondust

i felt
security

i saw that
even the darkness
was shrouded in
light)

There are thousands of pieces and memories lost,
From every dead body under it's cross,
For every little tear that did your daughter lost,
You should give her a necklase,
To remind her she's so close,
For every scream we had to hear,
For every night we wanted to dissapear,
If we would get a coin for each,
We would be rich,
And we could save ourselfs from that precious drinking *****.

lightning doesn’t strike twice
two feet and two knees that nobble occasionally,
and chatter like teeth in an arctic freeze.
Together in harmony.
Now since the rain clouds
washed those other clouds away,
and you were drained.
When you breathed a rainbow,
golden soul,
and drew the route of you in the window,
pain.
Primary coloured moments;
exposed in chrome,
caught in time,
no remains.
But then the stars and superlatives came to play.
And the memories fade.
When the night first spoke and the sun laid to rest.
He spoke of Moondust and mistrust of the Government.
They told him once,
and they told him twice,
that science could only be defined by what we know.
So he searched the stardust on the seabed,
and seeked what he sowed.
Oceans away from home,
only to piece together tiny shards of shattered stars,
with those telescopic time machines that he used to own.

She dared to dream; starlight in her eyes.
Moonlight in her hair; freedom on her tongue.
She chose to dance; on the world’s edge.
Against society’s rules; rebel for the cause.

Dancing through the night; moonshine’s all gone.
Freedom’s disappearing; yet she dances on.
Oh, there she goes; spinning through the air.
A whirlwind of night and day; a mirroring of the elements.

We've been
Through a lot
You and me
Best friends for
How long?
Over ten years
And that's at
Eighteen.

Last week
You told me
That if you had
All the money
In the world
And could give me
Anything
You would buy me two corgis
Because that's what
I deserved.

But if I
Could give you
Anything

I would give you back
Every tear
You ever
Considered crying
Whether or not
It actually fell
All sealed up in a
Case of fancy glass
Bottles
For you to toast with
At your pleasure.

And I would find every
Single
****
Person
Who ever
Hurt you
And make them
Feel pain
Kick them
Directly through the
Stratosphere and leave
Them to die
Choking
From a lack of
Oxygen
On the moondust
Of who you
Would have been
Without their hands
Around your neck.

I would
Wind the clock
Backwards
Fast forward through
Your entire
Missed
Childhood
And find some kind
Of cosmic compensation
Celestial retribution
For every lost
Second
Every tainted
Home movie that
Still plays
On the screen
Of your eyelids
At night.

Speaking of night
I would hand you
Every sleepless
Hour
You ever lived through
Refund the three a.m.'s
You gambled
And lost to
Anxiety
Smooth away
The tiredness
Soaked into
Your very
Existence.

And I would hurl
Every
Last
*******
Lie
You ever believed
About yourself
Down into the
Hellfire and brimstone
Where it came from.

Because all you ever
Deserved
Was peace of mind.

Pardon me you've got moondust
In your eyes love..
Did you know that?
And darling your smile's my weak spot
You make me feel so much..
When you do that

I think I'm hooked on this feeling that I call love
You got me out on the ceiling praying to God, for your love

I wanna tell you that I love you
Let me shout it from the rooftops now
I laugh my hardest when i'm with you
You take me higher than the clouds oh girl I
I think I'm going insane now
For your love
You got me going insane now for your touch

Babe you look like an angel
I see your halo, its so bright
And I wanna make you feel happy
From the moment you wake up
Feel alive

'Cause you got me hooked on this feeling that I call love
You got me out on the ceiling praying to God for your love

I lose all control for your love
But I don't deserve all your love.


^ guys these are lyrics to my new song I put out a music video for it last week and would really love it if anyone who liked my words, wanted to listen to the actual song: just copy and paste this link here:

https://youtu.be/-4HJcMJNH70

Love,
Cathyy