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And Just Like the Moon...

Vaguely lit
--- by the summer moon,
starlight sang her ancient song.

      Her sweet madness, well shrouded like a child's secret;
--sang to her like she were a dying friend.
Their smiles twinkled as a banana spider spun
Venus into her web.
Moon shadows planted their face
in the tall, dewy grass
as shimmering willows sent their fingers feeling.

       Memories from many centuries past
came flooding back like a retreating tsunami.
Her soft touch tingled on his skin,
something even Picasso couldn't capture on canvas.
        His thoughts dove into the dark depths of her eyes,
swimming off into the dancing starlight.
She tossed stones through the moon's watery reflection
and a million more moons slow danced across the surface.
     We caught shooting stars and sealed them in jars,

                                              and just like the moon...

                                                                 =========I hung there.
Today I seen my shadow
in a whole new light.
It stood tall and
didn't want to fight.

I couldn't tell if it was smilng,
or if it wore a frown.
I only knew that I needed to know
before this rising sun went down.

Who was this man cast before me?
I felt he needed to belong.
He couldn't talk with his eyes,
or sing it to me in song.

I never did hear
what he was dying to say.
I just shook his hand and
he walked away.
Your whispers ricochet
through lonely lamp light
as soft as sanity makes another run at the door.

--Years of pain, and rains....

Dank, dark whispers are like runaway trains.
Twilight moon--
drifting unaware.

A sudden flood of color
shimmered on a sea of glass.

One million angels were trembling,
holding back their song.

A world sleeping blind--

dreaming downward
to a clear reflection
of reality.

Fleeting shades of shuffling sound
glowed white...

like flames of a deep love.


Chained whispers
exploded into God's song.

The corners of my life are worn with cracks,
my spine is older and bowing.
My dust jacket has been consumed by moth,
yet the words within are still glowing.

Thunderheads are dancing in my backyard,
big bands swing in the childrens eyes.
When did imagination become insanity,
death is short-lived, yet everyone tries.

Distant tides crash in a familiar pattern,
queen bees dance within their hive.
Even while tragedy is striking,
you're still glad to be alive.

A glass of red wine sits atop my piano,
and then comes the sudden strike of a key.
A synthetic chord becomes entwined together,
kind of reminds me of you and me.

Where destinies flowed from the magic wand,
then a vast array of cynics came into view.
Then rumbling forces warred with us from
doing unto others as you'd have done unto you.

Complex and complete, yes--
alt and delete never understood, “just because.”
The thunderheads roared, and yet they restored
the man I really thought that I was.

The corners of my life are worn with cracks,
my spine is older and bowing.
My dust jacket has been consumed by moth,
yet the words within are still glowing...

The words within are still *glowing!
Forgotten flesh behind cold walls,

pressing nose to steamed glass--

With weightless memories,
your ache hides within a dream
like whispers on a scream.

--playing moon games.

a black widow wrapping
flies is the only sound.

The silence roared like fire,
standing in the shadows of surrender...

etching goodbye in the mist.
A sudden shaking--

Gray thunder dust
chokes out sound,
cloaking the world in death...

Goodbye's ghost is a pale rider.

Another unloved winter melts
as today lies on the brink of tomorrow.

A shifting sky is saturated with screaming colors,
where secrets pretend to be untold as
another black pearl nightmare is extracted from her bleeding throat.

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