Blood Moon’s Truth | Kenneth Vincent Walker
Blood Moon suspended
Above our heads like a
Cherry pie, all while her
Deafening silence sways
In the night unpretentious.
As the taste for destruction
Looms so defiant before
Our very eyes as we concur,
This world isn’t constructed
For the insecure and poor.
Blood Moon is the emblem
Above displaying our grief,
In a world adopting hatred
Thwarting love’s reprieve
From adulterated bedlam.
Our days are undoubtedly
Numbered if we continue
Down this path unaltered.
Our future will dramatically
Be misshapen and askew
Amid a Blood Moon’s truth.