Woes Versus Rues II
One on one, against and with each other
What's a bottle of alcohol?
"Brothers are bound to each other…"
I listened carefully, the smoke lifting
"Because they are bound by blood, "
I listened carefully, remembering everything
"tethered by compulsory empathy."
I listened carefully, the whiskey sweating
"I do not want that..."
I listened carefully, the sweat soldering down
"I want to be your comrade."
I listened carefully, the echoes rupturing painfully
I have never asked:
"What is a comrade? "
poem by Norman Santos
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Almost Heartless
The paper is incarcerated
In the redolence of tobacco
Yet, I brave the spangling wine
Running down the temples
To pull a marionette
Inebriated by the bedlam
Shackled in these pillars
Of security where I curl up
Like a marred moth
And lazily putrefy,
Haplessly flapping wings,
Ripping the gilded strings
And becoming a garden
For perfidious butterflies
And I vied, tried, groveled
Swallowing the soldering pride
Dispensing the heart
And claiming the magnitude
Of this quake, of a mistake
A heart breaks,
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poem by Norman Santos
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Jailhouse Perdition
The sun lingers away
from the sieves of your cellar
and every shadow shunned
the howls inside your cave
The echolalia of your heart
draped in surfeit agony
daunting the leonine waves
reaching your flimsy shores
You wrote forlorn telegrams
on your sooty walls
and kept on reminding yourself
how it feels to be abandoned
You confabulated with the ceiling,
traipsed and haggled with the floor,
but you never sought for the keys
to break your incarceration
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poem by Norman Santos
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Cold and Lazy Guns
Reloading empty clips
To these cold and lazy guns
Glistening in their lips
A shabby maladroit trance
Locking the crosshairs
Likes ropes to throttle
But every time, you'll move the chair
And leave me dangling by the carousel
Two cold lazy guns
Two hasty angry bullets
One last futile chance
I fumble as you pirouette
When I pull the trigger
With vitriol from your words of faith
And we shook the hands of the harbinger
And I would find out too late
That there is but one lazy gun
Stern with a deluded mission
And one cold solitary man
Flimsy with fantasies in erosion.
poem by Norman Santos
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Cradle of Deceit
Pacing down a string of deceit
Strings that conceal attachments
I wonder how tangled I weave
Sunken deep in this resentment
Live here but do not breathe
Walk in legs superfluous
Despair is beneath your feet
Edified with unceasing bruise
A lucid jagged thread
A cage without walls or rails
Echoes of things said
Bellow with the drunken wails
Haunting in this spaces, the past
To fall back in skulking darkness
Is to fall in void so vast
Vast linkage of madness
Proportions and distortions
Fraudulent web of spider
Architectural perfection
A trap. A home for slaughter.
poem by Norman Santos
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Sun Seeker
The round yellow face
Can see beneath the veneer
Of armadillo artillery
Its gaze soldering the daunted soul
To molt an inclement aversion
And in its abysmal eyes
Stood an archenemy
Mocking the rage in my face
Leaning on an obtuse obsidian
Unseeing eyes staring daggers
So I burrowed into the dark
But in the pall of jet black
I can only coil at peace
With the warm memory of the sun
Lingering in these burns
And his superfluous rays
Percolating the stained sieves
I would never be alone
Cadenced with these secrets
In this desolate black hole
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poem by Norman Santos
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Petals of Fire
Perfidious aroma
I bleed upon the panorama
And kneel before your thorns
In your loins, to be rubbed in
My distant and fictive
Pliant garden queen
Because the severe verity
In my coiled subterfuge
Is that in my reclusion
I yearn to be saved and hauled
By a pensive flower
With flaming petals
In a fictive plane
With virulent juices
I do not even care
You can take my blood
I will haplessly pawn it
For an ounce of honesty
And of love.
Yes, I grovel and plea,
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poem by Norman Santos
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Phalanx of Doorways
As we resigned into our sleep
and tossed on our disparate sides
we close our weary eyes
and descended into shadows
slathered with doubt and fear
from a life-long dream
that leaked into our reality
In the void terrain
of lifted unconsciousness
these flustered feet
meander with klutz speed
along a phalanx of doorways
searching for my way back
into your ajar impasse
And in this insatiable alley
I make myself a labyrinth
where every silhouette
are prancing beacons
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poem by Norman Santos
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Just Follow Where The Light Goes
In her stammering scintillations
She owned the forlorn vesper
Famished for an abeyance
She was an armada of light
A sprinkled sugar in the lattices
Of a cobwebbed chandelier
The ubiquity of the dark sky
Was already her possession
But she cannot see her petals
That are tightly curled, of a sudden
Wide open like a moonflower
Fringing the dominion of
The fringeless silhouette
Of the constantly shifting weather
And there was no trail
That you have not followed
Northern light, far behind
Is south, distally are east and west
What lisping choreography
Can you not follow.
poem by Norman Santos
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Pained and Ailing
A knot pulled in the gut,
a lynch tangled in the neck
shattering the lungs-
how much pain,
how much sordidness
do I need to feel alive?
I squirmed in flames
in a bed of leonine coals
and the dead stone's mangled
to create a pallid flicker of light -
the only stain of hope
in its drab lifelessness
This weak vessel
is once again wrecked;
How many damn should I give?
How many damn should I take?
I am out of death sticks,
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poem by Norman Santos
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