September in Suburbia, Part Seven

Poetry and Photography

Posted in response to The Clinic-Photo Rehab hosted by Lucile De Godoy

 

“With my middle-class metabolism, the suburbs were where I always wanted to be” Susan Isaacs

September in Suburbia, Part Seven

Night time in Suburbia
There is no time for hysteria
Streetlights the only spots of bright
Against the darkest of night
Sidewalks empty and quiet
A few signs marked private
Walking past the darkened windows
Occupants asleep, dreaming of tomorrow
The moon hiding behind clouds
No one to see, no one to watch
So, stepping on the grass is allowed
If I through away my crutch
Take a little chance
And do a little barefoot dance
In the middle of the night
On the streest of Suburbia

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Moon, Bloody Super Moon

Poetry and Photography

Posted in response to The Clinic-Photo Rehab hosted by Lucile De Godoy

lunar-loss

 

The supermoon is a 16-inch pizza compared with a 15-inch pizza. It’s a slightly bigger moon; I ain’t using the adjective ‘supermoon.’ Neil deGrasse Tyson

Moon, Bloody Super Moon

Moon bloody Super Moon
Why can’t you get here soon

Instead, in the middle of the night
From my bed standing upright
Down the street I chased it
In a state of a hissy fit
And in my pajamas no less
Frightening the neighbours I confess

Staring up the starlit night
Only to find a disturbing sight
No moon of any colour could I find
I was pissed with my teeth in grind

The big white ball
I earlier in the sky saw
Had hidden behind
A thick cloud bind

So now, another thirty-three years to wait
For that bloody moon to bate
The other option of course
And without too much of remorse
Is…

The next time the full moon is around
Maybe just photoshop in the bloody crown

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