Flustering Tides
Wide open sea, bludgeon my grand flee
To where the beast would sing to me
Debonairly and treacherously the riddle
That shrinks one mind to gamble and fiddle
Vying with feigned and compromised ideals
And mounting to craft vile and shabby realms
Asinine theory, there's no way up north
Could I rip time in this back and forth—
Cajoling in the blear mirage on the pavement?
Could I diminish the morsels of bereavement?
Riveted in tracks, lost amidst illumination
How can I resign with this feeble conviction?
My grand flee, have you abandoned me?
Corrupted of repose, denied of a sanctuary
Where I struggle with the surging tides
Amidst an iniquitous sea of sullied rides
Diagrammed from my fragmented wish
Another flight too high, fastidious, squeamish
When the fatal line is lackadaisically crossed
With anguish ensconced and hope direly poached
What heaven still endure this melancholy?
What heaven can recuperate one from this folly?
When every forked road anticipates a conclusion
Any heaven is a remedy to endure revulsion.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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