The Moon Smiles

Check the small print one more time
before you sign the deed
the marketplace may not be buying
what you think you’re selling
in this place of instant freeze dried aspirations
where every chicken seeks to be chanticleer
and all full moons rise with smiling faces
dreams and delusions are separated by a line so thin
that the angels dance across it when tired of the pin
no ring to rule, no drink to make you larger
to swim in the water of Lethe
may deaden your fears
for awhile
but feeds them too
until grown so large they become master
and cringing, you look to the sky
to see that the full moon still rises smiling
it never was just for you.


About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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