Son of the Moon

  “Daylight turns to moonlight, and I'm at my best

Praising the way it all works and gazing upon the rest…”

Ever Changing Moods, The Style Council

I took a short ride to the Moon

Surrounded by still, palm trees

Tall, looming sea cliffs of old

And a forever glow of fog

That shifted me

Out of me...

Idol loving society

Is killing my soul.

IV drip of Gram posts

Face comments

On race conversations

And threads of no reason.

Hearts unknown, Purpose unrealized

I’m spread eagle and hogg tied,

over the sobering 3rd step.

Bondage of self

Slave to the Holy Emoji

The Father Meme

And our Savior,

The Son of the Hashtag.

Titillated by this trinity

This tabernacle of the almighty text.

I took a long drive chasing Moon

In a plastic mini van to the edge of many towns

Where neglected blocks sleep and city lights end.

Sand in sandals are the uniform for the locals

No urban grit just greasy smiles.

Unknown fears of Inner city fires

At this frayed friendly watering hole,

Of ale spirits

And brunette tail

Flapping and spanking

My harden inner thigh.

I wanted to park and partake,

Fucken stop and get off this self help tricycle of shame.

But the Moon, oh good Lord,

She climbed faster then expected

High and to the right.

Tight and full of Love reflected

That only witches can consummate with.

Where shamans chew dirty rock roots through cracked teeth

And vampire wrestlers dott the dunes of the Yuma highway

On sweltering diesel ATVs.  

Warriors and Goddesses

Dreamers all,

Jumping across cellular fields

Flying wide over endless

Desert worlds

Riding, aroused.

I took a ride further from the moon

As leaving is always so tragic

Coming down

To this reality

Of sick suffering beauty.

All the while

Sunday’s liquids Spilling

Into weeks of

Wrinkled drinks

Forgetful friends

Whose bones play along the Moonlight’s drum kit.

The road continues

The eternal now.