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[poem] Beastly Moon

At the last full moon,
so stinging,
we cried and howled and seethed
with all our might
and I grew claws,
quite startlingly,
and sharper, fiercer teeth.

It felt like fire
when I assumed the beast.

I then heard my voice snarl
from deep inside my throat.
I dropped to the ground on all fours
and from there I could smell
the earth
and I could sense
the deepest rumblings
from afar,
and when I cried out,
it sounded quite loudly
as a roar.

As my bones and hips shifted
to be closer to the ground,
I sensed a tingling in my spine
with a loud and cracking sound.

Did you see the burst of flame
from which I came
as I emerged in beastly form
with all my might
from the center of this wicked storm?

And oh, how I turned wild
when I became this beast.

But now I like the feel of it,
finding much comfort alone
in the darkest confines of space
in my newly discovered cave.

And I will protect this place
with all my might
and I will jump to defend
should any fool dare to enter here,
be warned:
my instinct is now
to tear off your head,
rip out your heart,
and eat you alive.

As I devour
my most dangerous prey,
my darkest demons inside,
and the sun made of gold,
the lion within
is now awake
and alive
and I will defend
my blackened heart
will all my might.

(c) Bethany Moore 2016


[poem] After Benny

After Benny

The moon has waxed full
and waned again only twice
since your spirit left this land.

And twice or more did I summon you
through my howling tears.
In mourning, I invoked you
to join me as a ghost
in my mind and in my bed.

You haunted my heart with delight
for nearly twenty years in life,
and I worshipped you wildly,
prayed to you in your absence,
crafting you into a god in the flesh.

You were indeed much like the moon,
how you brought light and mystery
in the darkness,
and then faded again,
revealing the vastness beyond.

I will endure yet another dozen years
of climbing this mountain made
of your ashes
and I will howl wildly for you
at the summit,
whether the moon is full
or faded.

I will wait for you there, and
one day, we would say,
you will meet me there
at the top of the sky.

by Bethany Moore
May 28th, 2016


Poem: How To Tame A Wildfire


The choke of smoke
means the flame has already spread too far
and these green hills now
are burning hot and red

Consuming soil and sky
unable to shake the taste
of toxicity
and knowing that breath
is not meant to be held this long
tongues not meant
to be chewed so hard

These fires turn wild
and seek to destroy
because one way that nature
achieves renewal is through
its power cycling
the mercy death brings
even as bridges burn
clearing the way
to begin again

I can't contain this heat
as I endure the third degree
and can't stop the burning
as the sky disappears from me
as this wildfire rises
higher up in me

These flames
the wildest fire yet
to tame me.

(C) Bethany Moore 2015


[Poetry] Inert Eruption

Inert Eruption

I remember the springtime of chaos and change,
and nature was abuzz and thrilling but yet
too wild for even me.

By summer, the ground began to rumble and the air
became thinner, the pressure and noise
crept up steadily through my veins and nerves,
the sound of cracking and breaking
rang back and forth, burning in my ears.

And then came the wave of searing heat;
it struck with salty lightning and insult
that smacked me down, heart to ground,
fist crashing, face bashing,
and if you had heard the sound
I released from my mouth that hour,
that was the volcano erupting,
in the walls of my heart,
contained behind closed doors,
pouring a black hole of lava on the floor,
that could finally consume me whole,
and I did dive in.

Bethany Moore, 2014


[prose] cleaning house

Cleaning House

It's not that the trash
hasn't been taken out.
It's just that I
can still smell it.



[poem] a good cry

A Good Cry
July 25th, 2014

A good cry
can taste like medicine,
salty bitterness
and quivered digestive spin,
plexus flip,
a strong exhale,
and then breathe in.

(c) Bethany Moore 2014


[poem] Rude Awakening

Rude Awakening
July 26, 2014

It wasn't how I imagined it would be,
my being set on fire,
my heart of bursting flames,
the heat of the fury and heartache
consuming all I was,
what I thought I had been.

I had hardened to ice by sunrise
though I'd simmered all the way through
the lonely emptiness that night.

It was a rude awakening to discover,
to have grown all new skin
and replaced everything within
but it was better to die and be reborn
than to remain who I had been.

(c) Bethany Moore 2014


[prose] feelings in this moment


It just doesn't feel like my feelings
are important enough
to write anything about anymore.

Though the feelings
become more complex
and even deeper than ever before,

and though the years of healing
from abuse and abandonment
are still in play,

it just doesn't seem to matter,
these common complaints and

Words are trite and insufficient.

My function as a poet
feels oversimplified. 


[poem] Prose for Existential Plight

June 9, 2014

Prose for Existential Plight

If this Goddess is ripped right out of me,
then what could possibly
be left of me, when being human
is simply not enough?

2014 (c) Bethany Moore


[poem] no poem for you

no poem for you
Feb 2014

oh, you? you.
for a year, i suffered you.
no, i have no words for you.
no poetry, no songs,
for you sucked the life straight from my lungs
and filled it with your empty hot air,
and now that i am rid of you,
i hardly remember, i hardly care.

(C) B.Moore 2014



beatnik betty
the beatnik pagan poet
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