Alan Lewis Silva | The Moon Was Blue

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Spoken Word: Storytelling Spoken Word: Poetry Moods: Spiritual
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The Moon Was Blue

by Alan Lewis Silva

A 23-minute short story about the romantic school of love, narrated by the author. Download the $1 digital album download.
Genre: Spoken Word: Storytelling
Release Date: 

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  Song Share Time Download
1. The Moon Was Blue
3:01 album only
2. I Would Like
1:00 album only
3. But I Don't
3:52 album only
4. Meanwhile
0:53 album only
5. Ode To
1:23 album only
6. A Swan Floats
2:02 album only
7. First Tourist
1:41 album only
8. The Rain Fell
2:42 album only
9. He's Been Thinking
3:09 album only
10. I'm Probably
1:58 album only
11. He Took Her Hand
1:20 album only
Downloads are available as MP3-320 files.


Album Notes
All tracks copyright © 2014 by Alan Lewis Silva


“The moon was blue.”
“No, it was full.”
The Moon can be both blue and full.
“I am full,” he said.
“I am blue,” she said.
They agreed. They were in perfect agreement.
Blue implies fullness.
Fullness implies blue.
No, they don’t.
They loathed one another.
It was only because the moon was blue and full that they were even speaking. Rather, they could not speak, but only furrow their eyebrows.
“We are sitting by a beautiful lake.”
“Yet it is rather pretty.
“I don’t know if I want to stay here.”
“I will stay here if you are interested in staying with me.”
Am I interested in staying with him?
I hope she is interested in staying with me. I would be lonely without her.
“I would be lonely without you.”
I must certainly leave here as soon as possible. I will wait for an opportunity.
The opportunity never came.
“Who said that? Did you hear somebody talking?” he asked.
“No,” she said “of course not.”
What was that?
She was lying. Actually she did hear someone, but she didn’t want to admit. It is better for real things to be imagined and imagined ones to be taken for being, well, not real, but equally imagined as the real ones.
“I want to leave.”
“Please, can’t we stay? The meteor shower is coming.”
“I don’t see it.”
“There goes one!”
“I missed it.”
“There will be another one.”
“Who are we?”
He looked at her face that was all white, and he could see her skull underneath it. Or he imagined that he could see her skull, which was just as real.
But, of course, it isn’t.
Her cheeks were all rosy, and he felt like kissing her.
He kissed her. She kissed him. They made love under the milky moonlight in the willowy wind. That was in his head.
I love these characters, but they feel nothing for me. But that does not make me sad. The war makes me sad. It’s tragic for there to be little ones to be missing limbs and faces and other important things, but I can’t change any of that here, in a simple story.
I would like to make them love each other, but even here I am not so powerful. All I can do is make them talk. They don’t want to talk, but I can force them to.
Yes, but I cannot do anything by pushing them. I must pull them together like a mighty wind drawing their sails full on an enchanted lake.
A wind blew through the air. It smells of the trees and the moisture condensed on the dew of plants and flowers.
It feels good to be alone, that is, alone with her. I don’t like to be around people when I’m with her. I want her to cover me. She feels mixed up about it.
She’s mixed up and doesn’t know what to do some of the time. But she makes through it.
But he will not make through it if he continues like this.
I don’t want him to lose her. I want them to stay together. They are good together. It’s better like this. It means something must happen.
A Canadian moose tromped over a hilly knoll. He bit his lip. A meteorite flew over the sky.
She was thinking about the media.
“Don’t ask me about the media. I could go on and on.”

* * *

Someone was talking, and no one knew what it was. It was like a mouth with eyes. Instead of talking it looked at you.
He felt his heart quiver as she rolled on the grass.
He felt a deepness in him moving.
There was a cavern in those eyes in that mouth that was speaking to him.
The earth moved around her.
This was when the stars fell from the sky and the clouds shifted.
The sound of crickets could be heard chirping in the places ahead of them. There were bullfrogs at the water’s edge. The air was fine and made for spring, and spring was made for falling love. Therefore, he would be spring, and she would be rain. The night was everywhere, and in the starlight anything could happen. She was the rain, and he would be whatever rain loves. She was air, and he was the earth. She knew what was happening, but it wasn’t so important to her.
I have my own troubles to deal with.
The media started it, and war was the problem. The problem was stupidity and how it affects people. It brought in a sheep to the school and sheered it. There was a pile of fish at the fishermen’s market, and the octopus’ tentacles were bigger than her body. People were eating cod in a saloon by the ocean. She wasn’t very old when these things happened. She felt sad for no reason every time she saw seagulls.
I feel like sometimes I can do anything. You make me feel that way.
“I love you,” he said.
He is like a pig that wants truffles.
She knows they’re in the dirt.
“You’re the most beautiful person on the face of the earth.”
Okay, that was a nice one.
He put his arm around her and repositioned his back against the tree.
All right, then, I’m contented. I’m happy enough.
But I want more than this.....
[Story continues on CD]

All tracks copyright © 2014 by Alan Lewis Silva



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