Hunger
The mirage fluttered like the rolls of colossus
As the lips and fingertips were engulfed
By the rapine of sensation and sedation
And it wilted the sinewy pillars to kneel
Now you are postured groveling
Inches from the pristine façade of the crowds
You picked up their crumbs, sever the cord
Tethering you to pride and prejudices
Just to dine with their swaying feet
Aren't we all famished?
This hunger dazes me.
But I am courteous enough not to
Bite the hands that fed me.
poem by Norman Santos
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Dysgraphia
The ballpoint slewed
The serpentine alley
In a frisky ballet
And the rapping of the estoque
Quavered the roof beams,
Shattering the heaven
Where I fell through
In a requiem
Of tainted inks.
Fingers latticing
With an electric entanglement
And the gods hummed a lilt
Of elegiac carousing.
Words toppled
Out of the gutter
And the silken moiré
Unruffled, ejaculating
Incorrigible life.
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poem by Norman Santos
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Sunsets
We don't look back nor forward
for anything or anyone but the sun
that stalks our obstinate confusion
reckoning the gilded mouth
of the slavering twilit horizon
that is ravenously swallowing us
I lift my sinewy hands and vied
to gather the yellow light
and succumb to its descend
until the warmth dissipate
and the darkness fecundates
And the nights would be nothing
but the shards you have left
in cold serrated pieces
and I will bleed lecherously
just so I can keep them.
poem by Norman Santos
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Sa Agos ng Ilog
Sa pagpungay ng mga mata ng takipsilim
Aking pinakinggan ang buhay na sining
Isang libong yabag na walang paroroonan
Isang bagong kalatas ng pagduyan
Ako ay nabibilang sa bawat alon
Kayo ang hibla ng bawat pag-ayon
Dalhin nyo ako sa himlayan ng araw
At hindi ko kayo kakalagan sa aking layaw—
Niyayapos ng apoy ang damdamin
Ng pagsaklob papailalim,
Umaalingawngaw ang bawat tibok
Sinasambit ng bawat dagok
Hindi ako bibitaw, hindi na muli
Sa piling ninyo, lahat ay ikukubli
poem by Norman Santos
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White Noises
Amidst the drumming noise,
I lambasted to no avail
but there was nothing
but the lifted wind listening
My thoughts danced burning,
vertiginously suspended
upon the gilded coldness
and all these vociferous cries
are quelled by its own farce
The violins played scathingly
attempting to dub an elegy
for all the writhed nights
and all the sharp lights
that does not mean anything
But you still remained
the note, the echo -
the memory of the conscience
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poem by Norman Santos
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Bow and Arrow
A marksman artistry
Mangle with the tentative diffidence
For I am an arrow
And when I am released
It would torment to miss
And sometimes I am a bow
When hesitance prevails
And swoon over my foliage
Of releasing the puissant
Harbinger of perdition
When the taut heaving sought for abeyance
My own gears would arrest
By compulsion to unfurl the curtains
And give away the sparrow-chance
That I am the bow and arrow all the same
Seizing, repulsing, and detaining
My own emancipation.
poem by Norman Santos
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Stride
Reel around the water
where eagles dare prey
for the sirens amidst the weather
Strop your talons
and scream like stars
gnawing at their mattresses
Let your nostalgic song
influx with the white noise
of the highway and the radio
Don't be careful when you tread
the lines of infinitude,
don't fall in exactitudes
And this insatiable verve
will soon wear out
beat it before you die out
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poem by Norman Santos
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Scarlet Bruises
A red heron
Flew above
A red sun
I watched
Its wings flap
Winnowing
The red stains
In the sky
But he was
Tethered to
The blood
Crammed to
The veins
Of his feigned
Endeavor to
Haplessly vie
I watched
The red blotch
As it spread
And conquered
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poem by Norman Santos
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Riding Shotgun
The highway is lined up
with festooning lights
fading every taken mile
I was riding shotgun
shaking my eyes from fake stars
and the bloated moon hanging
with a taunting repose
I moon to go back
into the downtrodden drive
but what is a night of splendor
under transient scintillation
from the white lights
tossed in the highway?
But I rode the shotgun
hauling out jackknives and wings
as I moon over the most distant musing
unbending backward to the reflection
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poem by Norman Santos
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Oblivion
In your empty cellar hangs
a pregnant silver disk,
its penumbral enthralls riveted
in your empty stares and
carousing with your musing
In those void pits unspool
the propiniquity of an early sunset
and the onset of a late goodnight,
the clandestine distance between
the long mourning and
the joviant rebirth of time
And in this thin lace where
the lights and shadows waltz,
I stumble upon the frontier
of the rational space of time;
fragmented in states outside
the pursuit of the silent horizon
poem by Norman Santos
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