Array ( [sid] => 4527 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => madness of the moon [time] => 2002-10-02 07:40:00 [hometext] => i subsist in my climatalogical prose... [bodytext] => night rails,
her onyx digits dialing up the dark within me,
so delicate as they prod into my dank,
proposing parchment, and present, and prize,
only deceiving the wild and tufted child,
who rants and kicks on the marble tiles,
presentless, unbathed and addicted,
yet, again, I sit alone in this party,
crushed goblets and broken hearts splayed,
as the record skips on its last note,
and the streamers sleep like asps and rattlers,
coiled and cognizant of my every move,

See the invitations forgotten,
as twilight twirls in drunken spills,
like the strangers haphazzard in my head,
and night stains the horizon,
while the ink creeps over rise and river,
and morning's shadow-orphans hovel outside of my window,
I burl into her beds of briar and bark and black, determined to shred this veil of darkness,
as my horsemen and I are steadfast
traveling behind the midnight waterfall,
our shadows bleak in winter's reflection:

we are warped apparitions of lurching moonlight
to only again prevail in puzzle and frailty
as we descend deeper into my oblivion...
[comments] => 1 [counter] => 189 [topic] => 16 [informant] => matlock [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => FriendshipPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - madness of the moon


madness of the moon
Date: Wednesday, 2nd October 2002 @ 07:40:00 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: matlock
night rails,
her onyx digits dialing up the dark within me,
so delicate as they prod into my dank,
proposing parchment, and present, and prize,
only deceiving the wild and tufted child,
who rants and kicks on the marble tiles,
presentless, unbathed and addicted,
yet, again, I sit alone in this party,
crushed goblets and broken hearts splayed,
as the record skips on its last note,
and the streamers sleep like asps and rattlers,
coiled and cognizant of my every move,

See the invitations forgotten,
as twilight twirls in drunken spills,
like the strangers haphazzard in my head,
and night stains the horizon,
while the ink creeps over rise and river,
and morning's shadow-orphans hovel outside of my window,
I burl into her beds of briar and bark and black, determined to shred this veil of darkness,
as my horsemen and I are steadfast
traveling behind the midnight waterfall,
our shadows bleak in winter's reflection:

we are warped apparitions of lurching moonlight
to only again prevail in puzzle and frailty
as we descend deeper into my oblivion...


This poem is Copyright © matlock


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