My Dusky Moon

My moon is dusky

I become a lotus-eater when she blooms.

Etherised under her soft blue rays

And drenched to the marrow.

My moon has soothing properties

Like genteel breeze from salty sea,

she calms my disturbances,

lifts my spirits,

weaponises my imagination.

She is far away, yet near.

We walk hand in hand

Moon drunk, 

I give myself to her.

Devilish Demand

Give the devil its due.

For it's a devil, not an angel!

Charming powers it holds not

Not a conjurer it is.

Aiming for moon is alien

Shooting for stars is far-fetched

To be a heroic He it hates

To be a silly She it dislikes

Aspirations it cares a hang

Discrediting it views seriously

Bouquets aren't what it craves

Brickbats it accepts for change

Sweet-talking it believes not

Otherworldly beauty it is.

Give the devil its due.

For it's a devil, not an angel!