soft grumbles

I have never seen
the moon blink.
It stares at me all night,
watching every step I make.
Sun down till sun up
witness to man's folly

I have never heard
the moon whisper.
It talks to me
of endless nights
of women's screams
as monsters whip touch soft skin
tearing their flesh to turn them mute.

I have never seen
the moon taste salt from the sea.
It knows the taste of salt
from fresh blood of naked men
silenced by the vital fluid's flow
until there is no more.

I have never envied
the moon. It sits there
helpless playing with the tides.
If only it can manage
the minds of the corrupt,
calloused conscience,
there might not have been
destitutes.

rolly