PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

standing above, lonely and proud
enshrouded in dusky tendrils of cloud
ever watchfull, an all seeing eye
and usefull, some glimmer to see by
The moon, a white disc suspended in the air
Looking strangely indifferent hanging up there
Another night is here, my friend
looking to pounce on the days end
The only witness to a thousand joys
or the horrors committed by girls and boys
The day people retire, there is no suprise
here the night people come, from deep inside
Here's the moostruck, the mad and lunatics too
here is the man in a van selling greasy late night food
The crazy's are out, the sleepless and wierd
Viking like men with no hair and big beards
Screeching women and bellowing men
it's another night out on the town again
Its just a differnce in the light, but its quite strange
just a few hours, and everything will change
the streets are different and the people are odd
there is no law and order here, there is no God
this is the home of the night, the home of chaos
random things are stolen, broken, found or lost
there is no need for light here, least its no need for sunlight
because my burning bridge give off enough light
The light of day is cold, and it makes you regret
But the night is a warm bosom that lets you forget
im a night person, wandering these dark empty streets
and when i listen closely, i think i hear the moons beat
it sings out, like a siren, telling us to do wrong
and the compulsion is getting strong
it tells us to break free, tells us to forget the restraint
if you have to go to work, go hungover and late
it sings out destruction in four four time
tells us to meet up and we all form a line
gifts us madness, and breaks us free from our bonds
when you hear the moon's song, it feels so good to do wrong.