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Thoughts Set Afloat Like a Gypsy Moth Over 10,000 Streetlights.

Updated on May 15, 2022
MFB III profile image

Artist, actor, poet, teacher, songwriter & actor with 4,000 poems & almost 1,000 songs written, performed recorded & published on line.

Just some very scattered thoughts


we write with
the edges of our souls

sharpened by emotional grinding day to day 

and what flows is the innermost gleanings

of our deepest hopes and dreams..


when the mesh of flesh is finally fresh 

and and is not electronic blips and quips 

that slip rapidly over the many miles 

then the faces will hold more then traces 

of smiles that will replace all the hunger 

that was once palpable and left wanting...

until then it is poems that are the fingers 

that etch memories onto the skin of 

each others membranes of the mind...


I have seen the night walkers 

in the streets of New York's canyons 

and on the dusty back roads of Montana 

and in the graveyards of the military dead at 3:00 a.m. 

I have been a night walker and strolled the darkness 

following a slice of sorrow  

thinly cut like a sliver of moonlight.. .
there are always puddles when
there are night walkers..
puddles of blood...tears...sweat and rain.....

there are night walkers who still stagger in 

the tunnels of former guerrillas in Vietnam though 

the reason for their three mile stare is long gone 

there are Night walkers all over the world 

and they converge at some point
and become a shadow that blots out the day...
this is the darkest hour before dawn...


when dreams leave 

open wounds in ones soul

and the only thing to bind it 

is the one who is bound
for somewhere else..

then there is little one can do

but be alone and nurse the 

slashes of solitude back to a 

reasonable facsimile
of what they once were...


in the cocoon of night's embrace 

we fold our wings and float on 

the dreamy cushions of thought...

that let us fly beyond all that 

life could ever offer and the 

translucent and rainbow hues 

of our wings in this never, never place 

are of such sheer beauty that we awaken 

with tear dust in both of our eyes


God's ear is always
attuned to the voice of a child....

and he cherishes them as
the highest amidst all of his creations...

he grants them a period 

similar to Adam and Eve's..

a few blissful years of 

pure innocence to play and frolic 

in the big wonderful world without the burdens 

of sin or guilt or responsibilities


The moon pulls souls together 

just as it folds the waves
one over the other.....

it has viewed the passion
of thousands of years
in the wilds below it....

it is always just outside the window 

with a fingernail smile
or a bright beaming ray 

that illuminates two sets
of lips entwined 

times ten billion
all over the planet. 

The moon is a voyeur
who helps stir the scenes 

like a director who
orchestrates the moods 

and the settings and
we are but actors 

under his tides of impulse. 

We have walked on his dusty face 

but he has gleamed in the eyes of countless 

coming together by two's for centuries 

and he is the love light...the night light 

that illuminates passions trysts 

(H.) an ivy clinging 

to the walls of ones soul

blotting out the light that 

normally glows warmly through 

the membranes of ones inner self...

it is a poison ivy that irritates and disturbs....

and lingers long after contact with the offense 

that caused it is gone.....

salt can kill the root of the sadness..

the ivy..though poison... cannot tolerate salt..

and let the salty tears flow freely

over the ivy walls of your souls 

and wither the root and then let 

the light and warmth of ones smiles 

enter in and set you in a clear place of entanglement..

(I.) am done for now....

Here is the best comment I have recieved 
on this gathering of thoughts:
By-Fairie Princess- a fellow poetess
Wonderfully thought provoking
(A)We are the space between pen and paper.
(B.)Blips, quips and static duplex lines 
will fade into a lost echo when once we 
dare to come face to face and feel the 
give under skin that will etch our beings 
in the nooks and crannies of our souls. 
If....we dare and take that chance.
(C)I am grateful for night walkers, 
it lets me know that I am not alone. 
For they understand and respect my 
three mile stare. It is their hand 
that reaches out and grabs mine when 
like quick sand I can feel the abyss 
of that darkest hour, for only they 
know how easily one can be swallowed by it.
(D)the somewhere else had been 
right where we are. but sometimes we 
can't see through the mind numbing pain 
we were left with. giving us the space 
to lick our wounds they come to us in 
our dreams. reaching out to us tossing 
the "reasonable facismile away, as they 
grabbed hold of the original" which makes 
waking up all the more difficult. 
because damn it felt real! and when we do, 
finding ourselves on our knees or knees 
to our chests in our beds.
(E)Many is the time I've woken with 
my arms wrapped around me tight... 
tears washing the dust from my eyes 
but keeping that feeling with me for 
that is what gets me through my day... 
that and the hopes and dreams that I 
will know that least once before I go HOME.

(F)Hopefully they have been pure and 
blissful and unmarred. Hopefully we keep 
at least the essence of childhood with us 
and we do not forget how to play and frolic.
(G)and is also the nightlight that helps 
us find our way in the dark. 
Setting the world aglow.

(H) and emerge reborn.. unafraid to 
let the traces of tears be seen by 
the one who cares for you and instead 
marvel at the kalidescope of colors 
they created.
(I)...we are never done. 
Not while we have breath.
(J) For there was thought that 
followed this ~~And I love that 
you provoked mine.Know that with over 
10,000 street lights, I was attracted 
to yours, for surely yours burns 
the brightest.

© 2009 Matthew Frederick Blowers III


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