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Shards of Oblivion

Haplessly wafting through the pavements
Where the sun sprawled in supercilious entanglement
The mirage somersaulted in a carousal
Whilst my iron eyes thawed in arousal
And there in the vacuous silence of the horizon
Nonchalant of the maelstrom, I exhibited a forlorn
Writer with the garish polar lights as my pen
And the pavement my escritoire, too sullen,
And the paper is a blotted film upon my head
And the story I lace is from a nylon thread
That I found in the jagged fragments of my desk
Whilst mice and men scampered on the fractions and hex
My penmanship in a sodden rapture
I gnashed upon the panging stature
Of myself as I tried to press and swallow
The shards of oblivion, staining my paper with peccadillo
Though, no blood will seep out from my frenzied rivers
The gargoyles will snigger upon the driftwood that I am and slaver
In this farcical poetry effacing incarnation
Devouring the sanguine glowing bastion
Yet I endure, impassioned and despondently
Combing and palming the shards blithely
And gorge upon its piercing kisses
And the blasé of the looming chess pieces.

poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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