biochicklet

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Mad at the Moon

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biochicklet

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Light not of your core.

You are a dusty old

satellite that pulls the

waters by your gravity,

not your excellence.

My faith in your power

is something I never

speak of anymore

Don’t cry for me orb

I have moved onto

a plan to accept your

indifference to my

suffering and to howl

when you appear

Stupid plan of course

but in the absence of

Divine intervention a phase

I have to go through

Maybe randomness is next

to godliness, or on top.

My innocence is gone

but each night I say

goodnight dear moon.

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Author: biochicklet

Scientist raised by intellectuals on poetry, theater, art, history and music in New York City. Escaped to New Mexico to nature and mysticism. Knowing that the absurdities in this life are what we must laugh at.

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