M .D. Friedman writes from the moment chiseled fresh with revision. He draws influences from sources as divergent as William Butler Yeats and the delta blues. His poems have appeared in numerous small press publications & e-zines. He has four volumes poetry available through the Internet Poets' Cooperative at http://www.poetscoop.org and is the creator of a new genre of poetics he calls Digital Poetry.
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Saturday, September 4, 2010
Milk the Moon
The way we go is cold and long.
It’s far too far to right the wrong.
The curves are steep, but the shoulder’s strong,
You’ll never catch us …………..without a song.
The dreams we bleed have slipped from sane.
The hearts we hold are full of pain.
Still no reason for a sad refrain,
We can melt the stars………free our brain.
The last one left to write is screaming,
the demons there to fight.
When liquid light is a streaming,
Just reach into the sky…and milk the moon.
All will be there all too soon,
Our heads spun open, cracked with dawn,
Our bodies all disarmed,
Swinging true to form ……….we punch the sun.
We’ll run this road until we’re gone.
Y’know feeling good can’t be wrong.
Our tears are warm and hearts are strong,
You’ll never catch us …………..without a song.
The last one left to write is screaming,
the demons there to fight.
When liquid light is a streaming,
Just reach into the sky…and milk the moon.
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