BLOODY MOON

Bloody moon groans for its own
One trail made to drain in the dark
And ears hurt by wails in the cry
The cries in the silent, nights, merciful cries
When fade does slate
Of death to date

The hovering winds in the dark nights
Cries when the other died
No storms but the ocean tides
Sing the sorrowful songs of the body laid
Laid to drink of it’s woeful belly

Stars delight no more
When palms and leaves, dew tear drops
And the wailing streams, blood drain,
Naked roots shames the trees
Whose, nostril stings with deaths, ashes

The sky’s solace’s clear
When clouds detest the warmth,
Losing grip to face the flock,
Flocking clouds, blocking mouths,
Shocking crowns; of bragging lords.
The bloody moon’s watching in ewe..

Of women crying and children dying,
Death’s spying, life’s praying
Justice delaying, justice denying
A million groans angels dying
Who owns the tombs, who loves the dying?

by Robie O Nson on Friday, August 19, 2011 at 2:04pm