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jake aller Jan 22
As I sit
Under the lunatic light of the full moon
Of the blood-red lights of the moon

Full of wild passions
The lustful beast stirs again
And starts running and running
Howling at the moon

Riding into the new dawn
On a demented Harley Davis cycle
With two naked babes on his back

Riding into the sun
90 miles per second
At the speed of thought

He disappears into the lunatic light
Of the full moon
And I wake up
Alone in my bed

Saying, man, that was quite a night
I better not go there again

The wild beast

He has heard that before

And I join
The beast
In howling at the Moon
final lunatic poem today.  I have more including audio versions on my web page, the world according to cosmos. check it out at
jake aller Jan 22
I stood outside
Between the trees
In a field

On the outside of town
Beneath the lunatic rays
Of the blood red full moon

The lunatic lights of the moon
Casts a wild primeval glow
On me

The hormonal chemicals are unleashed
The wild beast within
Escapes it chain

And I howl with delight
A werewolf
Free at last

To run amuck
Free of its civilized restrains
Throwing off its clothes

Stripping naked
Running wild
Naked and free

A wild man
Enjoying his freedom
the second of my lunatic poems
Umi Dec 2018
The sky is so blue, yet so very sorrowful,
Here in my prison, these thoughts just won't fade,
Exiled from a holy world into a lonesome, somber lunacy,
This painful day, the dream of a better, hopeful tomorrow,
Are truly the light of my fading consciousness in this hell,
So I went to count the days till judgement deems me pure again, until I may become whole once more from these broken shards of the past,
Budding sprouts begin to bloom quietly, as the timeless seasons rush by and vanish into the bittersweet remembrance of ones memories,
"Stay, even if you're weak, dear conscious" I wispered to myself as then my tired eyes got distracted for a brief moment,
Time already had come to an inevitable halt, so at least my pocketwatch told me after letting out one last, delicate ticking sound,
With that, the phantoms of my past had laid down to rest, as the coming dawn greeted me by displaying the fading stars of the sky,
This is truly a repeated tale I endure in this pitiful isolation,
But if my painful past were to be erased, the last brilliance of my life would be deemed lost, for the darkest moments truly are a gift from above, helping us to determine moments of joy, bliss and purest love,
So I hope that one day, this body of mine will swift into prayers, hopefully in the beauty of an unclouded light, filled with moonlight,
Maybe then, I can finally move on, leave this lunacy far behind me,
Deep inside these puzzled eyes give me courage,
Despite being sealed away I shall discard everything and challenge this unmerciful fate of mine,
Then I can reach that sky, where my ideals are displayed,
Surely freedom awaits the border of consciousness, at least I hope,
Love blooms on the waters surface, filled with countless tears
And with this newfound freedom I can withdraw myself in this wonderful, pure holy world I waited for so long!
Despite it being distant a fantasy,
I dream of a hopeful tomorrow,
Here, in my exile.

~ Umi
This didn't look remotely this long when I wrote it on paper first, sorry
OpenWorldView Nov 2018
I can’t see their anger.
I can’t taste their rottenness.
I can’t smell their stench.
I can’t hear their screams.
I can’t feel their stones.

I’ve grown cold of this world.
Shutting out all the lunacy
by looking into myself.

And I’m content, calm, ready.
They can’t scare me anymore.
I’ve sent my fears to the gallows.
Find the truth inside yourself.
Nikos Kyriazis Oct 2018
What are you drinking sir?
Oh, inside this wooden mug
several things exist

Stalks from the flowers of rainbow
and some molten clouds of autumn

Petals from the maize shrubbery yonder
and some drops from youth's lunacy of course

All you need
for the upcoming winter
Sindi Kay Oct 2018
I saw two faces in the moon tonight

A lady smiling at me, with delight

I saw the face of a whimsical man,
It looked like it’d been carved out wood
With brows so arched he’d be holding his belly from laughter
if he could

I saw two faces in the moon tonight
I looked in the mirror and asked myself
“Are you alright?”
I felt a warmth, from head to toe
My heart the most
The moon hanging low

I left my bedroom window, curtains open wide

I went to the beach to see
Her bright
So low
in the faraway sky
Turned the littered sand
a smooth hue of white

The timid ocean beside the sand of sparkling silver
The presence of the moon in the harvest sky
Caused my spine to shiver

I  muttered all my wishes with a sigh
My eyes must have sparkled glitter

With the moon watching over me,
I was understood, protected, loved
The moon was low among the sky
And I was on an elevator towards heaven
Moonshine high
Persephone Jun 2018
They tell me the fires are not real
That the sparks sprinkling my veins does not exist
That I am just imagining the insanity in my own world
They reprimand the way I stare as I glare into the devils eyes
As I demand the devil to stop shouting my sins and the ways I have lied
They scream with "it is all in your head" as smoke rolls from their eyes
All I want to roar back is that they can't shout sanity into insanity
But I can't
And with that I glance down looking at the way hell opens up and snatches me into the ground
Maybe we should believe the unbelievable
Róisín Mulliez Jun 2018
Looming over me, The Full Moon.
Stark beams pass brilliantly through my window.
Alien light entering my room,
As I lie neatly between quilt and pillow.

My placid body, straight as a corpse,
Beneath glaring light sheet, peeling back my cocoon.
Lunar distillate seeps into my pores,
Infusing fleshy tissues, unveiling hidden wounds.

Insanity that lurks within the fractures of my heart
Is illuminated now; a spiderweb a-glow.
The times I fell, and fell apart,
All, by this moonlight begin to show.

’Til beyond-lovesick lunacy burns.
It flushes me with scalding fever.
Frozen heat, thawing ice - my stomach churns.
Sensations clash in ripples of shiver.

A playground swarms with The Maddened.
Feelings I wish I never knew.
The only sign is my balmy forehead
Glistening subtly, as cool morning dew.
Riddhima May 2018
The city of lunatics
Snatching semicolons
Left on pavements
Of incomplete poems
Over mouths pregnant with scattered letters
Wrapping singed skin
In dots and full stops
With loveless chokes writ on their faces
Lost in bruised
trf Apr 2018
Your eyes, their photo booth blinks,
are filed PDF's behind my prefrontal cortex.
Parachuting to the moon,
where the gravity god is mortal,
my stimuli float in a sensory deprivation tank.

I practice wearing my isolation blindfold,
allowing all other senses to eat its portion,
SO in time IT fades.

I close my trained eyes
in the warm water and Epsom salts,
my desolate tank of solitude,
And we are holding hands naked,
floating in your Dead Sea.
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