moon – Havoc and Consequence

HANGING THE MOON

In this world of my own, where I sit on the edge of the universe.
I calmly wait for you, clutching the note in my hand.
The eyes of the stars glow, watching my every move, but I mind not.
Let them witness my waiting until time itself dissolves.
I hear a sound, and smell moon dust tickle my nose.
And then I see you, climbing the ladder from the earth up.
Up into such wonderful atmospheres.
I hear you wheeze and stutter out an insult. I smile.
And there you are at last, leaning on the brightest star,
hanging the moon.
I look at the note, it reads, ‘Just for you’.

From the newly revised version of ‘Drifting In & Out of Sleep‘

19/03/2026 by Mark Ryan Categories: love, moon, romanceTags: celestial‑journey, cosmic‑love, dream‑poetry, intimate‑universe, moon, moonlit‑imagery, mythic‑tenderness, Poetry, surreal‑romance 1 Comment

A DESCENT

Once fused, now torn apart.
Meddling with the senses.
Ripped out of heaven.
Carved into stone.
You’re the sweet scent of death to me.
Down, at the bottom of this hidden heart.
Playing once more my pagan precision.
From head to between rib cages.
Little black stones.
Tucked between each vertebrae.
Shining when the moon appears.
Blooming in your blue possession.
Such magical decay.
Your approach to love.
Caressing and consuming.
Abandoning and left for dead.

09/02/2026 by Mark Ryan Categories: death, heart, moonTags: bloom, death, decay, descent, heart, hurt, love, moon, poem, Poetry 8 Comments

CALM & THE CHAOS

Washed over by the waves of tomorrow.
Rubbed raw by the days that have slipped from memory.
The storm before the calm.
The poison in the cure.
Breathe it in, like a lunar vapour.
Giving gravity to centred states of tranquillity.
The air sucked from the moon’s orbit.
Breath exhaled from Jesus back in time.
I watched myself fall.
At first, I think I pushed.
Over and over it tumbled, fighting at nothing and everything.
One hand on control, the other making waves through the heavy air.
Where does my sanctuary lie?
Outside of me still?
In God’s eye?
There is chaos in my calm as I turn the world down.
The calm in the life that rushes through like a headache grey.
Pausing to feel a hurt, that’s meant to ache.
There is no time to sit in stillness and save the soul from decay.
But there is no time, like now.

12/01/2026 by Mark Ryan Categories: chaos, moon, peaceTags: air, breath, calm, chaos, god, heachache, jesus, lunar, moon, peace, tomorrow, yesterday 15 Comments

Kill The Moon

How dare you illuminate and steal my heart.
You glisten there with your tide of treachery.
Luring many to the edges.
My heart was strong, yet you broke it apart.
Forcing the pieces to drift in their gravitless state.
You are a thief and a liar.
For the light you shine is not your own.
Stolen and reflected from the sun.
One that gives much warmth and life.
You are cold and capricious.
Showing different faces to all below.
Keeping your dark side at bay until it’s too late.
I wish to break free, to kill you completely.
Or at least break away from your orbit.

03/03/2025 by Mark Ryan Categories: moon, pain, spaceTags: death, kill, moon, murder, orbit, pain, poem, Poetry, space 11 Comments

A DISPERSAL OF NATURAL LONGING

Patient and drawn.
Folding in on itself like a bud.
The fools follow the sun-drenched sky.
Bleeding into azure and altered states.
And still it waits.
Buried underneath itself with bones and bewilderment.
Biding time, or disappearing.
Only it knows.
The wind shakes the senses.
Flowing through like ghosts.
Shivering into consequence.
The moon sprouts in the sky.
Delivering wildness and chaos.
Even the stable must bend and sway.
Giving way to momentary derailment.
Liberation now proceeds defiance.
Yet it will come.
Against the others, against the trappings.
Words and stares which batter and bruise.
Into the night it drifts, it creeps.
Surveying survival.
Nothing now, or ever, to lose.

25/09/2024 by Mark Ryan Categories: moon, night, owlTags: bones, buried, defiance, flight, night, owl, poem, Poetry, sky 12 Comments

Liquid gravity

Heavy bones weighted like illuminati.
Dark and porous, prone to fits of flight.
Suspended now in sleep as the moon watches.
Casting an orbous eye over this place.
It came without sound, scooping out the soul.
Lifting it up into that lunar landscape.
The silent soul stealer, the moon dancer of dreams.
To be played with only upon consentation with the darkness.
The body, cast aside while the moths played havoc.
Is that starlight in the blood?
Foreign dust in cells that shake and split.
Do these craters mimic the grief that marks me?
If all this is what I see, what lies beyond the solar scene.
That moon gravity and grey seam of space.
Is it just another place.
For me to plan my escape?

23/07/202324/07/2023 by Mark Ryan Categories: gravity, moon, soulTags: art, bones, death, dreams, escape, geavity, health, lunar, moon, planet, poem, Poetry, solar, soul, space Leave a comment

Brace for impact

Waiting and forever weeping.
Wallowing by the willows as the moon crashed.
Shattering astral intentions deep into my veins.
As I waited and wondered by the river of eternity.
The shock of the moment rocked us side to side.
Dislodging your mind.
Unhinging my soul.
Letting the worms and the words slither inside.
Unbuttoning my pride and laying my ego to waste.
It hasn’t killed us yet, it hasn’t had time to grow.
But the speed of its corruption, how it does persist.
Splits my cells in fear.
I watch this all from space, safely in my own atmosphere.
Trapped inside a dream.
Now, with far retching chemtrails which tickle the nose of god.
Thwarting any ideas of escape or reason.
It pulls and pushes at me.
Bringing me down.
Papering the fall.
Toppling the monuments that I had built for us all.

23/05/2023 by Mark Ryan Categories: crash, moon, spaceTags: astmosphere, astral, blood, crash, death, demise, earth, god, impact, moon, poem, Poetry, space 6 Comments

Heliocentric detours

A story unfolding at the speed of life.
Unplugged or imbedded.
They missed the Milky Way.
Drinking once more from a cup of stars.
Do these words seem familiar?
Rub it on your teeth.
Ugly and sweet
As they slide once more into focus.
Chewing on your past like a shark in a bathtub.
Filled to the brim with sorrow.
Eyes, that are empty.
Calling for tomorrow.
Now your moon hangs heavy in your heart.
Blue, like the subterfuge.
Shrieking past on a shooting star.
All light and brilliance.
Call it what you want, taste it like confusion.
Lifting into that lunar bloodstream.
But be sure to rinse your mouth with the irresistible.
And swallow the sublime.

10/12/202224/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: drugs, moon, spaceTags: art, body, dream, dreams, drugs, heart, lunar, milkyway, moon, poem, Poetry, shark, space, sun, tomorrow 9 Comments

Removed: Post lunar blue

She lived up there, where no-one went.
A sparkled silent sky just for her.
And her dreams and diamonds, all well spent.
As she walked through her world in a blur.
For it was on the moon her soul resided.
In lunar craters she crept and hided.
Watching the world from the safety of space.
Removed and distant, from the human race.
And her heart was safe and full of silence.
As the solar winds blew through her soul.
She forgot the tether from us through her highness.
And all the destruction and collapse down below.

16/07/202211/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: earth, moon, starsTags: art, blue, collpase, colour, diamondds, earth, flight, girl, luna, moon, poem, Poetry, sky, solar, space, surreal 9 Comments

Retreat

I cannot go outside.
They will not see.
I lock the doors and turn the world down.
Set the moon to wake me, so I can dance in the dark.
They cannot know, they should not look.
I came to disappear discretely.
The void is my own.
Yet a consequence is not from a lack.
The love and respect weighs me down more than you will ever know.
But I have to go, I have to depart.
Sailing out on silent ships that leave you all in fog.
Not a death, not a dim.
A recapturing, of self.
Until I’m stronger to hold back the waves of the world.
Stronger, to survive the sun.

18/06/202208/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: moon, ocean, seasTags: dark, deaprt, death, departure, escape, fog, life, light, moon, ocean, poem, Poetry, retreat, sea, travel, world 12 Comments

Lune à l’esprit

These moments, like pearls on silver lips.
Gently spun and mouthed in wonder.
Consumed by the burning fire of solar saturation.
A golden treasure that I can sit beneath.
Counting coins and constellations.
Never equalling my love for you.
We are but pieces of a shattered moon.
That fell to earth when the world was sleeping.
They never knew how I kissed you, pioneered your love.
Discoverer. Sweet foreign terrain.
Unknown to them in the quietness above.
We are blank space and white noise in their muddled worlds.
Silent, like the dawn.
Tiptoe with me now, to the edge of the unknown.
These transparent moments.
Into the corner of god’s pocket.
Un-stitching fabric and time, eager to breathe the space of the infinite.
And air that sets my soul alight.
Burning the past and dancing on the surface.
Of a moon that those below can only howl towards.

15/06/202208/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: love, moon, spaceTags: art, discovery, galaxy, god, gold, light, love, money, pearls, poem, Poetry, silver, soul, space, SUN 13 COMMENTS Leave a comment

There there

I taste the powder on your skin.
The remains of the moon and ash of my soul.
Obliterated by the look in your eyes.
The ability to cut me deep.
And tumble my tiny empire.
In spite of everything, there’s still the stars.
And they sparkle now.
Hung up to light my way.
Swallowing galaxies like fireflies.
Tumbling in the dark.
I watch these words as they spirit from your mouth.
Driving new ghosts, to new ends.
Staking claims to old wounds.
Rubbed now with salt from my tears.
Collapsed into years, and habits that can’t be shook.
So let me cover you once more in feathers.
Taken from the bed we shared.
Whilst you kiss the air, and us, goodbye.
I watch you fly, deep into the inky night.
Disappearing into the gloom, like my hope.
Untouchable, all too soon.

09/06/202209/06/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: ghost, moon, skyTags: art, bed, black, fly, ghosts, goodbye, hurt, ink, lips, moon, night, poem, Poetry, powder, sky, sleep, stars 9 Comments

Particular illusions

A result of you burning our bed.
I lie on the cool grass and watch out for comets.
Racing from Olympus to Paradise.
I pulled off the ropes and entanglements.
Escaping with my life, but not my soul.
Now these clouds that cover the milky way.
Blotting out the moon.
Are really the smoke from the ashes of our home.
Yet suddenly you appear, covered in moon dust.
With starlight diamonds in your eyes.
And you take my hand, and tip the sky over.
Shaking out the stars.
Promising me treasure to be found from our ruins.
Blinding me with Midas light.

14/05/202201/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: heaven, moon, treasureTags: art, clouds, fire, galaxy, heaven, heavens, hurt, light, love, moon, olympus, photography, poem, Poetry, sky, treasure, universe, weather, writing 16 Comments

Perpendicular persistence

This love is obscene.
How it builds to a waking dream.
Your hand in mine, as we cross the great divide.
Stepping into now as the cliffs crash below us.
I’ll be your aeroplane, your rocket to the moon.
Smear the sugar on my heart.
So numb to the taste of artificial sweetener.
You’re the real thing.
Familiar reflections dancing with the shadows.
All off stage, and now out of sight.
Those long forgotten poses, positions to the left and right.
Wanting it all, wanting only to be wrong.
Your eyes are devouring me and I swim in the stomach of your love.
Crushing bones and the tar that used to keep me together.
Swallow it down.
Change my blood to gasoline and set me on fire.
To light our way.
To drift away, into love once more.
Eclipsing the moon tonight.

23/03/202223/03/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: love, moon, sweetTags: angels, care, eclipse, kiss, love, moon, poem, Poetry, sugar sweet 5 Comments

Operating as an individual being of consciousness

He came to this world, alone. Hoping to find all that he ever wanted.
His eyes were dusted, by moon flecks and divine difference.
The blood that coursed within, seemed shared at first. Red, like the mottled sickly streams he had seen elsewhere. Those rivers of regret he had touched with his fingers. Sticking his hand into their hearts.
Wanting to be their reason not to, or one that forced them on.
He crowned himself, and wore a smile that betrayed the sadness within.
Oh how they came, flooding his eyes like a tsunami unleashed from desperation. Some waved him by, eager to remain on their little universe of self. Not ready to let anyone inside to wreak havoc.
All this crumbled of course, as the crown melted in the light. And the skin was seen to be what it was, paper thin and reading words of yesterday.
So he tried to leave, but they would not let him. They ground his bones into finer feelings and swallowed them in great gushes of fear. He tasted of wine and tomorrow. In the aftertaste of a paradise, clinging to their mouths and minds.
He could’ve stayed there, slipping slowly into the bloodstream. But he knew, as he’d always known, that he would need to leave.
And the wooden stones that now bear his name, in a likeness painted in heady pastel colours, his spirit lingers.
But his soul has long since gone.
Returned, like we all must, to where it belongs.

01/03/202201/03/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: blood, moon, tomorrowTags: art, blood, bloodstream, divine, dust, ending, hurried, hurt, moon, poem, Poetry, red, space, time, tomorrow, universe, words 2 Comments

Interstellar insights

The world opens, the moon shines down like a second sun.
Highlighting the scars of the earth.
I sense you and smell the enthusiasm.
Every day is mine to win, each interaction a snapshot in time.
It’s not how we fall, but how we stand that matters.
The heart of the matter.
The rub, the centre; the deep filled gooey splatter of time.
Stretching away like a blurring desert.
I step stone towards the unknown, letting go of uncertainty.
Restriction dropping, heart opening foolishness of youth and wisdom.
I pull you out of the cave, bring you into the light.
Dazzled by your brilliance, and mesmerised by sight.
Too long have we lingered on the dark side of the moon.
Freezing in the ill commitment to abstain.
Come, take my hand and let us drink in the solar flares.
Turn the moon to gold.
Get high on the mercury rising and dance into the fire.
Singing our solar song.

25/12/202123/12/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: moon, planets, spaceTags: change, dark, earth, gold, happy, hope, insightful, moon, poem, Poetry, souls, space, stars, travel, wisdom, youth 8 Comments

Waiting with winter

The oil and the dark.
Pooling and yawning around.
For waiting is the hardest thing.
Stuck inside a circumstance while the world moves on.
Trees stripped of life as seasons pass.
The moon spins on, grinning and fading.
Changing and evading the sun.
What was love was frozen into a moment.
Carved into the ice, and buried until you lived for us again.
I stand, waiting for the sun.
Waiting for the fire to hurl forth once more.
To melt that place and warm my vision.
A place of smashed clocks and flowers.
To ignite our cold hearts.
Trapped inside their cages of bones.
Where we may love again.

30/09/202130/09/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: heart, moon, winterTags: art, clocks, cold, frozen, hearts, hibernate, ice, poem, Poetry, time, tree, world 5 Comments

Calling you higher

The saints who watched with silent eyes.
Unrolling the clouds in heaven.
They know you tried, they watched the break.
Bones adjusting to the weight of the world you bore.
They smiled when you continued onwards.
Knowing that the wall was part of the plan.
The fall, part of it all.
And in your dreams they slip feathers into your soul.
Cushioning against the silver spread of the galaxy.
Mercury in cosmic form, washing over the moon.
Falling into your broken cracks.
When you lift and rise, carrying on into the darkness.
The feathers float, and the sparks flare.
Taking you away from there.
And the darkness retreats like the ocean at night.
So you may walk the sand with god and me.

28/09/202128/09/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: angels, divine, moonTags: angels, cosmic, divine, galaxy, god, lift, love, moon, poem, Poetry, rise, rising 5 Comments

Soft like a sigh

Sleep speckles these eyes.
Leaving dreams like fingerprints on my eyelids.
I break that vision of you down, prismed and scattered.
Tasting like crystal.
When the fragrant sound of your voice touched me.
I unfurled like a bud awakening to the morning song.
The sheet of love hangs across my heart, pounding like the rain.
You step inside, feeling the walls to my lungs while you breathe new life in.
Breath like ocean spray and the hint of gladioli.
I mark this dream, for it’s the only place I can find you.
The only place I trust you to be there.
Collected and kept like a shell on a mantlepiece.
Placed for my own enjoyment, and a sign of well-travelled bones.
Yet the possession bothers you not, for you rise like the moon in daytime.
Defiant against the sun.
Casting long reaching shadows that follow me throughout my day.
Cooling my skin where I touch upon them.
Touching part of your soul, those bits you let escape.
It must be a waking dream that haunts and carries me.
Keeping me contacted and close.
Cuddled against the consternation of being alive.
Being of being, with you so far away.

20/07/202117/09/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: flowers, love, moonTags: art, breath, care, cuddle, flowers, heart, intimacy, kiss, love, lungs, moon, ocean, poem, Poetry, shadows, sigh, soft, space, spray, sun 6 Comments

Stolen Sky

STOLEN SKY

Watching high from miles above.
A silent watcher, like a mourning dove.
Sees the world bend and sway.
As he cranks the moon to life each day.
And so he watches as the world turns over.
In dusty pools, while supernovas.
Crash and burn his aching heart.
For a world he loves, he sees torn apart.
Which leads him down into despair.
While comets and stars alight the air.
And move on in time with disregard.
Of his moment here, or collapsing heart.

Adeline

Adeline, why do you trouble me so?
Why do you pull down the stars and the moon?
Chalking up these eyes with lunar dust and wonder.
Oh Adeline, do not speak my name.
It crumbles my ground and shakes my resolve.
Moving my inner mantle with volcanic changes of heart
Oh sweet Adeline, keep those lips the distance of the sun.
Rising from my eastern treasure like the dawn.
Blinding if I look that way.
My Adeline, I wish I knew you then.
When my world could make a house for you.
In the forest of fidelity when we were both young.
And hope was still a pearl in our eyes.
Goodbye Adeline, you will always dwell in my hope chest.
Covered in gold at the bottom of the fathoms.
Locked away in time by a key you will never own.

19/06/202118/06/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: love, moon, oceanTags: art, gold, love, lunar, moon, ocean, poem, Poetry, relationship, sea, stars, sun, treasure, youth 15 Comments

Fly me to the moon

Into the shuttle, with a clink and a clank.
Climbed old Richard, the adventurous Yank.
He counted down, from ten to zero.
Puffed out his chest, as America’s new hero.
And he soared into the sky, with his hands in his pockets.
As he shot to the moon on the back of a rocket.
And the earth dripped away under the clouds at his feet.
He smiled at his fortune that was ever so sweet.
Yet alone on this flight, bound for the lunar oasis.
As his body hung on earth in a suspended medical stasis.
In a nursing home called Cherry palm, Richard resided.
At 92, was the best place his children decided;
For him to live out his days in comfort and care.
Little knowing each day was full of lonely despair.
And that is why, though medicated it’s noted.
He navigated the world, and now space where he floated.
And he went where he wanted, on his own in his head.
He travelled to the moon without leaving his bed.
This was how Richard coped with the despair.
Walking in space, above the world without care.

23/05/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: departure, escape, moonTags: age, american, cherry, drugs, earth, flight, loneliness, lonely, medication, moon, nursing, oasis, old age, poem, Poetry, rhyme, rocket, ship, shuttle, time, world 8 Comments

Crawling back to the sea

Did I miss the Milky Way?
Seeping into my bones while I sleep.
Creeping over my soul like a love I can’t keep.
Forgetting how this feels.

If I am nothing but confused, then I know.
I know what I must do.
I welcome in the deportation.
Listening at the water’s edge.

The primitive sound of the sea of tranquillity.
Lapping at my soul.
An ocean of storms.
Propagating emancipation.

So annotate my departure now.
Hang it on your wall and drink it from your coffee cup.
Diminished and exonerated in your eyes unfit for the surface.
They would pop under the pressure of it all.

Like the path I tread. Or the self I give away.
Where is the road I follow? The crater to jump?
I told you before about the universe at my doorstep.
But I know you wanted me to be wrong.

All along.
But you forgot how to swim.
So I shoot myself across this space and walk into the sea.
And you can fall down to your knees.

19/05/202119/05/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: moon, space, starsTags: departure, emanipaction, galaxy, leaving, lost, lunar, moon, ocean, poem, Poetry, RATER, shoot, space, stars, time, universe 2 Comments

Break the dawn

To kiss you into the night.
Would be more than I could pray for.
Lost in a world where you are my religion.
The transmigration I envisioned.
Waiting for that flash of crimson slitting the night sky.
Instead I made you cry.
As the ripe fruit of dawn broke over our lives.
I reached for it, I reached for you.
Finding only empty space.
And spent light.

19/03/202119/03/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: moon, prayer, sunTags: art, day, fruit, kiss, light, love, moon, night, poem, Poetry, prayer, relationships, religion, sun, violent 7 Comments

Echoes in arbitrary flow

Through this darkness, you felt your way.
Fingers in decay, while you groped for something.
I told you, you knew it then.
I would always be waiting.
As the moon rolled away like the end of a film.
And the sadness reeled you in.
You held your breath and counted the silence.
Little drops like chips in teeth.
Tiny shifts, the tectonic plates of deciding.
I hovered above.
My eyes light like a dove in its pirouetting flight.
I stripped your mind like a Christmas tree in January.
Shed. Cold. Naked.
And ready.
Placing candles in skulls to light your way.
The bodies of your old self, at use after all.
We swim out of the concrete and into the sky.
Minds now alive and deliberating.
Of which wing to fly upon.
Which sky to pull down and cover us.
To disappear into forever.

02/03/202102/03/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: love, moon, timeTags: alive, art, bodies, cold, death, film, flight, fly, forever, light, love, moon, naked, poem, Poetry, skull, skulls, sky, teeth, time Leave a comment

Category: moon