There is a certain misery bred
into children of the night,
most notably the 20,000 a month
born under a full moon,
a rare combination of being born
in the dark of night, yet under
bright white moonlight,
a mere 1/100th of the total born
each month.

If you are one of us you know it.

The moon is alive and effeminate,
pulls on us, pushes on us,
at least on us who call her mother,
and though she shines her sweet shine
her soul is as cold and indifferent as
the belly of a black hole,
and we will war with her influence
all the days of our life.

Chaos,
compulsions,
sorrows and sins
our constant companions.

For she alone
knows the effort it takes
for us to live ...

          The anxious tide within my head
           was put there by the moon,
           the ocean too, its waves of blue,
           respond to what she says

All our days a high wire act
where everyone looks on with
eyes wide and mouths agape,

and when the night comes
we are alone,
and in fear,
and the end of us is always near,
and our numbers will not cease,
her bright light will grant no peace.

she is a GRAND MULTIPARA

and INFINITUS GRAVIDA

while we are beggars and thieves,
tired as hell, asleep when awake
and awake when asleep,
swimming in brain matter
madness
and churning recollections
like a duck on a lake,
calm on the surface,
fast as hell underneath.

In the end
it’s the crazy debate
that brings us down,

          To find ourselves we lose our souls,
           to lose our pain we lose control
           to find the norm there is no peace,
           to lose it all she will not cease

The pendulum swings back and forth  
and there is no rest,

The ***** is out for blood,

and she pulls on us
and she pushes on us

          The push of truth, the pull of lies,
           the pull of hell that push denies.
           the push of God, the pull of sin,
           the pull of what we push will win

unless of course we break
and bleed out,

but she does not care,

there are many more
to take our place
and they like us
will find no rest.

Full Moon knows so much more
than she is telling
Seen so much more
than any single imagination
Has been getting inside minds
much more than they ever realise

Inhale and exhale 46664 times... My heart spent 27 years behind bars of my skinny ribs; I remember every inch of her Tibia and Fibula...

The Cold air from our long distance formed cracks inside my heart, luckily these cracks never developed large enough for you to escape. And if you did escape; I'd go standing in the Kalahari desert tracing your every step back to the exact tile where the first syllables from our mother tongue has made the Click. "QuQuQaQa" what if our past was written on stone by feathers of an ostrich? The same ostrich who ate the seeds from our forefathers now growing inside his stomach...
  
#My bare feet are standing ontop of shining stones similar to the ones found in Kimberley: Kimberley the place where untold stories are buried beneath the Soil of guilt... So, Can you DIG it, Sucker!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She glistens beautifully on the river night
With blurred sparkles yet glinting
She waited so long for her daylight
But He only came when she’s sleeping

He shines brightly with infinite fervor
Giving life to the ones in pain
He knew it’s impossible for them to sustain
To see her once he’d always hoped for

They always knew it was unviable
But their love bestows hope on earth
Their curse afflicted despite their denial
Yet they still believe in their oath

They’re inclined to do their utmost
Knowing everything will eventually be in tarnish
Not remorseful to what they lost
Until they prevail on what they wished

They finally met from time to time
Only to be torn apart again & again
Yet they cherished their eclipse to rhyme
**For the love they always believed in.

Inamorata -- daughter of the moon,
So ashen faced, your lips turned violet;
Asleep yet not asleep upon a stone
Of marble, beautiful as when we met
One fated night upon a sandy shore,
With moonlit tides cascading o'er our feet;
The flowing lily white dress that you wore
Now serves to shroud your icy form, my sweet --
Wouldst thou condemn me breathless as thou art,
Or worse, to mourn a lifetime e'er in grief
Till summers end and winters chill my heart
And death unsheathes his scythe to bring relief?
Oh love, my love -- what choice thou givest me --
Behold my love, I come -- I come to thee

My wild and doll-like mannequin
Cast in the light of lovers' moon
A sculpture wrought of waxen skin
To keep eternal beauty bright
Her likeness in your eyes tonight
Does make this lover swoon

Come come my sweet and dance a while
Beneath the light of lovers' moon
Yet still my love thou does recoil
And fear my heart as tho' once felt
Might cause your waxen heart to melt
My love for thee is doom?

Make haste my love for sun's first light
Will plunder light of lovers' moon
Despoiling of our loves delight
As warmth embraces waxen skin
To make a formless mannequin
Too soon my love too soon

Alas my love you leave a fool
Once bathed in light of lovers' moon
Now standing by a waxen pool
To sculpt a candle in your name
That burns with your eternal flame
To guide me to my tomb