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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This Light
The sun's corona finagled
Like an inveigling noose
At the small of my neck
But the garish flashes
Cascading the black words
Quells the somnolence
Malingering with the croons
Of this silent snooze.
Drown me with this infinity
And I would never be gone
Never be away in this light,
In this light,
This light.
poem by Norman Santos
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Before Your Gates
The splendor of the slivered water
entices like a pleading aubade
lost in the myriad of faces
reflecting each other's banality
and enunciating the raw grandeur
the moon descried in your pits
and the treacle in my chasms
deluged like a torrent zephyr
with a halcyon volition to break
before your adamant gates
poem by Norman Santos
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The Pen Drooped
The flame ignited my insides
And I squirmed beneath
The whispering wind,
The moon took away my howls
And crucified my tongue,
And as I whittled in pain
Without a hiss of air
The veins shrunk
Clogging the heart,
I have ran out of blood
This is all that I have.
My last strand of life
Is sent into abeyance.
poem by Norman Santos
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Vermin's Hive
A drone in my ears
Stinging, nibbling creeping
A spectroscopic existence
Do not press,
I will sink.
But if I jump
Let me sink.
Intrusive creepers
Extemporizing pain
Imbecilic brains
Why are you breathing my air?
Why am I amongst the vermin?
I feel squalid
Devoured by pity
Abort existence
Cringe. Fade away.
poem by Norman Santos
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One
I lust for empathy
At least permit me to entropy
and this void will be my asylum
as I rebuild my inebriated beacons
to raise the roof beams
that will mantle my perpetual nights
and our individual darknesses
in one final clout,
in one splendid dream
that will eat a life time
in a glacial sleep
we will be
one.
poem by Norman Santos
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