Crime & Punishment

Justice is forgiveness –
it is surely heard
in the bishop's song
to the con Jean Valjean;

for the brave melody
he sings to the cops –
that climbs like a prayer –
is the same sung by Javert:

the restless pursuer,

that relentless judge

who sorely assumed
justice equals judgment.

And justice surely does.
But where does it lie,
this judgment? On the
back of a thief or a

Priest? And who possesses
the privilege to try
and to deal out death
but God and God Himself?


© 2014 vagrant moon

Researching Moliére

Oh, the drama! 

Oh, how tragic!

That one would die

of a heaving cough

while playing a

hypochondriac.

Oh, what irony!

What a discovery!

How Argan's ghost must

have swooned upon seeing 

his imagined malady 

was not so imaginary.

© 2014 vagrant moon

Coffee Shop Talk

A crush betrays you –

your heart turns your face red

as you laugh off the truth 

like a child who just 

pulled his hand out 

of the cookie jar 

mommy told him 

not to touch before dinner.

Your lukewarm coffee sits

waiting beneath your shy chin,

desperate for another chance

to be thought of,

to be bought with the tongue

and enjoyed like water
to a desert rose – 

your countenance sharing it’s subtle

shade of color – pink like blush;

red like the heart’s thunder.

© 2014 vagrant moon

Our Love is a Slur

Our love is a slur;
I gotta walk away.
I've been grabbing at straws
And only leave with tragedy.

Our love is a slur,
can't you see it slip away?
It's drifting along like an
atmosphere in jilted space.

And I don't wanna
wake up like this,
With nothing but a
superficial kiss

on my lips.


© 2014 vagrant moon
[written in March 2014]