Black Paper Moon
The night shrouds the sky in its elegant darkness. The night is silent, as black as a corrupted soul. As the star crossed lovers cry and the wolves howl, we beg, pleading "Dear Moon! Please forget to fall down!" Not a single laugh is heard, not a single smile is worn, and only inaudible tears are shed from eye to cheek. Time will not be reversed so do not wish it so, love will not come back so do not pray for it. The one thing we seek shall not be found. The one thing longed for will be shattered to pieces, and the long gone sun will sit in the sky as a bird sits in a tree. Stop loathing your neighbor and reach, reach for the Black Paper Moon
-KDJ
Questions
A kiss can steal a heart as well as a blade can cut paper. But can the kiss steal the paper and the blade cut the heart? Do you say no? Or yes, maybe? Do you think I asked you a question? A fool would say no, but a fool would say yes. And again you ask, "Will you ask another question?" My dear, I believe you know the answer to that. Or do I? So I do reply with, "Can I answer that?" To answer a question with a question is not answer at all but a puzzle in it self. The Question is not from a test or a quiz but a brain that thinks. But thinking is not questioning, so how can a thinking brain question? Or is thinking questioning? My, my, you seemed quite confused, dear. You seem to keep telling me of how you do not understand. I suppose that is correct seeing as your brain is a thinking brain not an understanding one. Or is thinking understanding as well? Well here is a question, my dear, how does a brain of thinking comprehend so many different things that are not of thinking? All you do is simply stare. I suppose I understand, or is it you, maybe, that understands now?
-KDJ
Pop, Fizzle, Fizzle.
Pop, fizzle, fizzle, your hands make when you rub them together. Pop, fizzle, fizzle, the star makes as you wish with your might on that dark night. Pop, fizzle, fizzle, says the little man as he hands you a clover. Pop, fizzle, fizzle, goes the can as you crack it open and take a sip. Pop, fizzle, fizzle, is the sound of a child's energy makes as the day turns to night. Pop, fizzle, fizzle, says the little kitten as you stop to pat its head. Pop, fizzle, fizzle, her imagination goes as she types away. Pop, crack, goes the poem she has written on her computer. Her fingers are tired now from typing; she turns to a woman and simply says, "Bonne nuit."
-KDJ
