Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
April 27, 2026

Moon Madness

The ravings of a lunatic
Is what they called his words
Muttered threats and unveiled promises
Reduced to a minor affliction
Blamed simply on the phases of the moon

Ravings of that lunatic
Weren't taken very seriously
I railed against the reasoning
My words sustained by filtered light
With a full faced orb mocking me

My lunatic was raving mad
Singing out my destruction for all to hear
Angry I ran from his fists
As words no longer were able to suffice
A cold blue-black night taunting me

There was no moon that twilight
When he ended my brief life
What would they say? Those in denial
Since the lunatic slew me in the dark
No pumpkin slice of orange even left to guide me

I say, Heed those ravings carefully
Night or day  lunatics pace this earth
Blaming the moon for their madness
It's not reasonable you see - I have proof
A shallow grave unlit by even a shadow of the moon.

More by Lydia Manx → More poetry → Full issue →
Share: 𝕏 f
Reader Comments
0 Reader Comments
Leave a Comment






All comments are moderated.
Commenting policy