A voyage of the moon : the Triumph of Death

In the early morning hours hawthorn
a river of choppy clouds
flowed
from the skies suicide

and the moon
was the most beautiful drowning victim
you were the bright morning star
a lioness
seeking someone to devour

calm
quiet
not like human flesh drums
skins of war beating

but turned auburn leaves falling
at a funeral for a friend
mine was the bully

and so the moon escaped the clutches of Death
gunning for her
high above German cathedrals
Kyoto gravestones

walking
from the tall grey canyon walls of judgement
into the desert of tan embers
turning her back on these processes of Dying
lines that were beneath her

all of the care and happiness
sank
seemed to fade from the loitering world
without their moon making werewolves turn
Lovers heat burn
in pinnacle parked cars
on sticky kitchen island counter tops

for days she wandered
eventually growing parched

she came across a jackrabbit
he was camouflaged
long ears
powerful rear legs
he was dark buff peppered with black
but ready to attack

kind hearted
seeing she was the same
showed her to the nearby stream that was hidden
she thanked him

went on her way

met the Dragonfly
he was fearless
a narcissist  slender in build
Iridescence jacarta coloration
who would never grow a conscience
a killer  
with his cross hair set
on you
with a hare trigger

she slipped away
while he was looking into his own reflection
in marble mansion floors

she met the copperhead snake
cunning like the competition
the taker in a game of tag
hungry
swallowing you whole
Unfriendly to the free at heart
Quarrelsome as Tybalt
Malicious
carrion

she explained she was escaping Death

he let her know that he was Death
that Death lives in all things
at one point or another
including herself

seeing as she was so determined
he would let her go
slipping through forest fangs

on one condition

that she would watch from the sky
every night as he took
the lives of others
thief's hand hankering for the thrill
until she was ready to part with existence herself
once again

contemplated
hesitant to make deals with the shroud wielding scythe
she reluctantly agreed
slipping by

now every night the moon
watched the murder of sunlight
as compassion dried out
being buried alive

nothing can outlive the son of a bitch
known as death










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The last line really is the moral of the story
Death is a son of a bitch.

my mom taught me from an early age that all i have to do in life is die and pay taxes.
this rings truer than i ever thought possible.
the rest we just make up,stumble through,and hope we come out on the other side of the battleground unscathed; but even if we do it's still only a matter of time.

so tell'em how you feel
fight it when its wrong
the pursuit for happiness is a road not to be taken lightly

remember to stop and lean on a fence post every once in awhile
and watch some of the other cars slide back down these frozen hills
laugh like a hyena
take a vacation
pee in a cup for your good friends
ride a bicycle
write like they drove over your rainbow
and left it decomposing
as your childhood neighbor did your cat
break some glass...you'll feel better i promise.








who is who.....


the moon-   is really everyone,hopes,dreams,lusting to live,fuck,feel

you -  were everything i ever wanted

the jack rabbit-   kind hearted-the giving, helpful,how i want my son to be but cautious most of all

the dragon fly -  fearless,narcissist-society so vein and glued to their phones

copperhead snake-   cunning-the taker-hungry,Unfriendly,Quarrelsome,Malicious-death embodied in one bite




i hoped you enjoyed it. let me know if this was a flop,confusing,etc; i plan on revisiting this write time and time again to edit.