One of the Many Final Thoughts
Aghast was the slithering road
Laid before your decrying sun
When it met the cross-road:
The navel of its breadth
Its fluent lasso caught trampling
In the gluttonous mouth of the machine
That leaden every word,
Assuaged every agony,
Exacerbated every felony
It's a cycle: an ouroboros
In these capacious effluence of thoughts -
Of two-faced forgiveness and revenge:
A phantasmagoria in wakefulness
We remain unscathed, for we are
Benumbed by our inner callosities
And our pensive sympathies withered
In our obstinate grip while our bones
Honed a new constitution in black
Every step leads our heart
Into the ravine of moot point:
A blind mangling of cul-de-sacs
Eating all the misshaped endeavor
And we are tired and despondent
Burdening ourselves with punishments
Wrought by our inner savageness
In the loose gnarls
Where it is hardest to stride
A light may emanate
Like a felled seraphic wing:
Rectify these shards of armada
That you shaped by your supple hands
Now farcically slivered by its makers
Unmoving and rueful like all the ghosts
That cradled the very bequest
Rectify yourselves, let us learn
From our perilous mistakes
Before we misconstrue the stone
Casted by the celestial sky
But let me be the departed star
For I am defenestrating your photographs
To efface my bountiful dreams
And I shall cloy my flecked poetry
With the fear you have given me.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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