Walk The Crescent Moon

Almost finished with my older works. This one is only three or four months old. I suggest giving it a chance.

In the shadow of madness, lies the sadist's Sabbath

Poetry is an opinion, an opinions art, an idea that either sticks to the wall of the mind; or doesn’t, and slithers back into the abyss of the moment

Therapeutic as music, abusive inclusive confusion protruding allusion for our amusement

A cruising movement of the soul, soothing

Never finished

Argonaut pottery, hypnotic wannabe menagerie

Death row coastal zone

Subspace racism spatial erasure

Linguistic promiscuous

A loving father, mother, and sister

And a son and brother, we are a family, I will not give up on them; even if I’m smothered by my own problems

Our brain and spirit work in tangent; rampant, in sync, I sink into my soul, and wallow in my sorrow

But everything I sense, is of importance

Every single thing, brings me to tears

But I do not fear; the horizon

And there’s nothing you can ever say to me; to make it go away

But my things are yours, until I look for more; on the shores of motivation

Without remorse, travel my course; forth dedicated

The sun and the sea breeze free me

Drown in heat’s drought, coursing through my veins

Freezing solidified solidarity that eases my doubt, my dreams; my being, even through the ceiling

I pray for yesterday; kneeling

Breathing released resentment; consenting evangelistic redemption commensalism

Automatic atomic lobotomy; I’m full of love, above it all

On the cloud abound clovers; unknowing

Of just how broken I really am

Still connected to the moment it began

In the very strands, threads led to start again, out the clammy abbott of my hands 

Strangely unbroken, to stand alone and; awakening the spoken word

Inside the angel filled feathers, the leather wings, of my burden, averted, turning my nursery of nurturing into a bird of the thirsty universe, an adversary of canaries, and carry my weight to Nirvana’s spanning gates; gracious for a place for the placeless

Faceless creation swirls and winds the grind of my bones; let my enemies free my soul, and free-fall through it all in my mind’s rinds, freewill finds me

Saying; how unsurprising

And walk again avenging through the openness of the crescent moon, avenue for madness; fools

Curiosity blossoming Apocrypha of a poetry of Yggdrasil paraphernalia umbilical biblical fruit of soma rooted unity

Holocaust philosophy, debacle fossilized paradise, let the sun setting of heaven bring new life  

And ripe fruits of labour, and be our own saviours  

Psychometric electricity in energetic contentment, prophetic abetment, continental ascension, essence penance, echelon replica, penetrating space, a one world nature  

Lock me up safe in my shell; this personal hell  

Bombard a martyr  

The trees believed me, since they were seedlings  

I don’t bank on uncertainties, walking the plank would be more nurturing  

Principal of defeat, lay low beneath the concrete   

Precipice ambition   

Salmonella alchemcial falcon wings welcoming off the balconies   

Downward abdominal abomination intravenous penises, lenient reasoning  

Permissive situations  

Magnanimous slandering psychic violence climatized to the pulverized alternate eyes of the globalized mobilized poltergeists spider web of armageddon widened horizons, splendid

Exacerbation, kleptomaniac, veterinarian divination pinnacle infinite reckoning eviscerated Bethleham Nephilim requiem 

The semblance of remnant emulate the conception of a weapon

Consuming strewn congruently eating me entirely dragon rider wyvern leviathan in the eye of the psychic hurricane the tempest of hellfire redemption

Lingering inception of comprehension watch me walk the crescent moon, the light of day an apparition, the dismay grey evaporated, and apprehend unending serenity slenderly bending dimensions of a blind sky's mention, rising sun slumbering violet twilight, contented in the cypress of fireworks

Deciphering a forest of giants In the coastal osmosis of the sombre omnipotent, I walk the tightrope of a crescent moon, rejoicing in the world’s oceans, movements fluid in the fusion of beauty 

To rebel and fall from the heavens, and on the earth 

Ripped raw sevens stars settle their medallions, and crawl, revel through the dirt

Under the thunder where the crescent moon lurks

Author's Note

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.

Reviews

[Ghost writer]

this one, at least at the beginning was simpler than you're other poems it seemed easier to understand. there were a few lines I really liked like when you were talking about the trees believing you.

[Pete]

wow. i need a miner's hat and flashlight there is so much to gather in this. definitely beyond the earthly realm and floats on it's own without gravity. you've got quite a vivid imagination like you should be writing for one of the comic book companies or something. i have to catch my breath after each line - you've got so much going on with your unusual selection of words. very memorable. not easily forgotten leaving a lasting impact. love the title and pics too ... :)

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thanks for taking the time to navigate my little realm of poetry. I'll be sure to check out your new poems soon as well, as I am always happy to learn from those around me.

[HB Rita]

Brilliant expression and description to explore Art as we hold in to our mind. As we love our family no matter what comes we do stick to our family to comfort them, Art is also a part of some people’s life that they live with. We can be falling apat, we can be failure to many things, we can be shattered in pain but Art is something which gives us courage and inspirevus to turn back..... Some people talk with colors and brush strokes, some with creating a creative writing! Very nice.
Brilliant piece of writing. Thanks. 100 for you.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

I agree completely family and art are of great importance. Sometimes they interact with each other even. I'm really happy you enjoyed my work, and what you said is absolutely true. Everyone is creative in some way.

[HB Rita]

:) keep writing

[wordman]

lot of stuff in here to think about

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

I'm happy I was able to do that with this piece, thank you!

[wordman]

you`re welcome

[.]

"Poetry is an opinion, an opinions art, an idea that either sticks to the wall of the mind; or doesn’t, and slithers back into the abyss of the moment" Thanks for having this line in this poem... I really mean it.

"Every single thing, brings me to tears
But I do not fear; the horizon
And there’s nothing you can ever say to me; to make it go away"

It's true, we've suffered and it brings us tears but still we write, and nothing can stop us from writing poems that's honest to ourselves.
Hey! We still smile...and we will keep smiling and be proud of our poems. :)

Keep smiling Jack! Be proud of your poems.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Your right. It's difficult, but straight-forward. We need to be honest, but proud. Thank you so much for sharing your view point, I am always happy to hear what ideas or words you have to share.