Moon Rocks

I ghosted into the night.

She retired into her room.

It was perfect timing.

Summertime shootouts turned hearts cold.

Anarchy written in the burning sky.

Don’t go out there.

Worlds cold as ice.

But we’re heating up.

Drums beating life into dead flowers.

Magic wands paint liquid pictures

Swords of progress

Victory is still yours.

Knights in long, chocolate brown minks ride inside chariots of gold.

The gods smile from above.

Overstanding the work.

Broken glass stained with coke.

Chess pieces broken down to snow.

Straws draw turtles out of shells and these are the best days of our lives.

We stand tall,

In front of rising tides.

Once sunken ships float beneath the burning bridges of friendships lost in the fires of yesterday.

The captain never went down.

High we fly on Millennial falcons

An undefeated rebel alliance

Mentally unstable shooting stars

Indian chiefs riding horses through bloodstained galaxies.

It things like these.

Command order from the dis-ease.

Command order from the dis-ease.

Collect your gold coins and call back home.

Tell them you’ll be late for dinner and never show up again.

Just a ghost of the fathers sins.

Holey shirts, not for church

Buttons up, but somethings up

No need for the sleeve.

Pay for phones but send letters instead.

You poured your heart out but he left you on read.

Now your cups empty.

Memories replay in your head.

Old dogs spill blood on linoleum floors.

White walls stained with pain it makes no difference the indifference the same.

Falling stars crash into dumps of silent rage.

The deaf screams in a language spoken by the dead.

Blood soaked fields of Lakota warrior dogs, basking in the afternoon sun.

Pointing semi-automatic death at mirrors of ourselves.

All of our brains come from the same shelves.

In pursuit of fear less we fear more.

Automatic locks on our doors.

Who’s stealing our time?

Sold mine for a decade and a dime.

No I’ve got two pennies to rub together.

The ferryman knows sound and soon he’ll be around.

Take me back to that place please sir

It’s just me and my two cents.

No one sent me, I sent myself…

…towards myself…

Here I…

…and I am.

A fight to the death,

May the strongest survive.

Keep going.

Keep pressing on.

Kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall

Angels grow small as demons plan their demise

Surprise is inevitable.

Wait until I and I see the whites in their eyes.

Spring forward, the blacks fall back.

Bonds denied to some open doors long closed to the shadows of the son.

Give him a gun and keep him in the shade.

That’s how killers are made.

Day in and day out,

The sun never comes out.

Young bucks hang their heads from trees.

Accidental suicides.

Bodies of children blowing in the summer breeze.

Chasing dragons.

Anything to rid them of the dis-ease.

The needle penetrates the skin far beneath the bleachers, full of fickle crowds cheering.

Their eyes roll back into their heads,

foam bubbles out of their mouths.

I can feel your deathly cold skin.

Slumping over,

Your young worlds already collapsed on itself.

And the band plays on.

The captains go down with their ships.

There’s too many storms.

We’re not worthy of the seas.

Stay on land and plant seeds.

Pretend to be farmers.

Overalls hang over drunken captains of lost souls fulfulling empty stomachs of outdated philosophies.

Pick axes replace oars as graves are dug out of our monster ruts.

There’s no way out,

So deeper we grow.

Strength be low.

Fill up our tanks on fossil fuels.

High off fumes.

Stories of legends consumed.

Mudslides.

They eternally rest in their sudden tombs.

Distraught families fall apart but no worries,

the foundation was shaky from the start.

Hairy spiders weave webs in and out of time.

A lonely scorpion decides to stay a while.

Rapping on his door, she invites herself inside.

Consuming him of his endless energy from within.

Tickled,

The lonely scorpion laughs.

Eight evil eyes fix on his devilish smile.

A match made in heaven.

It’s been a long way home.

Come with me to fight the night she says.

She straddles the edge with eight, golden legs.

The lonely scorpion follows it’s mate.

A match made in heaven lights the way.

Two eyes to look and one to see.

We’ll sail again on even stranger tides.

Strands of time,

Electrified with currents from dark skies.

I and I can’t hide from the golden bride in the black dress.

Dark stones from the moon adorn her finger.

Rings appear as bands of time.

2 billion years of floating.

How did you get it to land on her hand?

Broken records repeat the same stutters.

Cut from the womb,

Ripped from their mothers.

Baptized in the blood of pain.

Shit stains on popped cherries.

Balls deep in life’s game.

 

TBC.

 

J.rozarie