Woes Versus Rues I
"Do not go where I cannot follow."
She said, trembling for my tremors
But I needed to get away
I needed to find my peace
One, two, three, four feet away
I looked back, struggled back,
But the crowd was lost to a place
Where I can no longer follow.
poem by Norman Santos
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Black Epiphany
Teeth rasping the tongues
Devoured by the void
Caroming of the sun
A sordid river run
To gush with an epiphany
That you can shun
Abandonments
And predicaments
By holding the knife
Not from the receiving end
Rather in the hilt
As a criminal
With no chance
Of suicide.
poem by Norman Santos
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13: 00 Predicament
There are songs I'll never sing
And places I would shun
For when the night fell
Unto the prolix limbo
Of timelessness and infinitude
All these memories thawed
Before it amalgamates -
An unjust jeopardy
In this savage world
Of tigers and vultures
Caught in the same trap
poem by Norman Santos
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Lions and Cages
A vacuum lies between the brunt
of the grinding fangs - and here lies
the trepidation like a cold epitaph
waiting to be discovered under
the slumber of the dying autumn grass
because in the stillness of this
nurtured dessication of quintessence
I am a lion and I my own cage.
poem by Norman Santos
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The Cycle
From the void
A ray of light
Tamed the shadow
Its flimsy paws
Stood like a divan
Carrying the burden
To the stars
The coarse skin
Callused with caliginosity
Was stropped
And the dead stone
Was a diamond
That would soon
Learn the demon
That would send
Him groveling
To return
To dusts.
poem by Norman Santos
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Burned Arson
A fire flounced gracefully
And I pummeled blatantly
Scathing the ambers
Flailing in the darkness
Trailing the stars
That was once meandering
In my scant pace
And the railroad spun
In the shrouded dust
I am devoured
By the billowing
Take me,
All my words,
Consoles,
Condoles,
Are now yours.
poem by Norman Santos
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The Train Now Departing
The train now departing
My luggage plays tricks
It was lighter, it was heavier
"Stay" I heard you say
I bent down to tie my laces
There were no other footsteps
In this empty station
Always running out place,
Always running out of time
"Not this time."
The train now departing.
poem by Norman Santos
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Traipse
In the hearth of the slumbering road
Where you saunter to extemporize maps
The amber tinkers with the pulsations
And thaw everything that darts through
Making a cesspool where everything sank
Including I and my futile endeavors
Amalgamating with the last tears
Of the austerely saturated gloaming.
poem by Norman Santos
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This Is Getting Old
"This is getting old."
"I'm sick of you."
I nodded, shrugged
You took the door ajar your left
I lingered a little while
Your footsteps dissolves into the drumming noise
"This is getting old. I'm sick of myself."
There were no other doors
but the one you took when you left
poem by Norman Santos
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An Ignorant Monger
Uncouth interpolations rummage in and out
The jagged paths of your tongue where a stone
Sines the road of ignorance and malignance
God forbid the flesh and bones void of soul
May the lightning struck the spines and spikes
Buried in the harried moans of grief and relief
God forbid ten folds and eternity
poem by Norman Santos
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