I went crazy
I did feral little dances
I acted in ways most betraying
of my previous social stance

but there were others
a multitude
it was the fault of the moon
we are weak and...

Mr. Moon
The Whey-faced Satellite has drawn deck
of our cowered population

on this full beaming night
this Friday
the anaemic loon quaker
is a menace

it lugs ******* the minds most creative

it moulds imagination and felonious thought
where previous their dwelled only a shopping list

it skims hostile cream from the fragile
and kissed wetter still
the most eager berserker

a dance of madness tups open the houses
pucks at our activities
plucks strings that fire our kinetic clatter
and scuppers any will to resist

Human species take the streets in corrosive numbers
A Party like this
shall make a dent
A Party like this
shall be a fist in Our Story
Hosted by the Moon
here I am
in the mix
prancing like some zany goof