Jar of Origami Cranes
In rooftops, in trellises
People strut like an alley cat
Gyrating their flamboyance
And trying hard to enthuse
The blasé of the spectators below
In gardens, in sea shores
People will prod for a gazebo
And conceal their precious jewels
Screen them from the thorns and tides
And from the sweltering sight of the sun
In planes, ships, or trains
People would doze in the expedition
And rest their lethargic heads
To miss the motion picture
Playing outside their windows
In bedrooms, in churches
People would utter a prayer
Before looming icons and candles
To deliver them from all evil
Such blinded greedy pleas of fanatics
In bookshelves, in bar corners
People would careen over the macabre
And sulk in inebriated isolation
Titivated by loquacious melancholy
A feigned scream of brazen idiosyncrasy
In poems, in letters
People, like myself, errs
And dispense everything into angst
Rasped by an ineffable trance
Of lackadaisical sycophancy
In simplification, in surrealism
People would lose the rhythm
And reduce the pulp into a gravy boat
Of cheap, mentholated or carbonized,
Gaudy and squalid hedonism
If I would stumble on a place
Where I can make origami cranes
I would pawn a lifetime and craft a sunset
From a folded paper and keep it in a jar
Like a fallow secrecy of a Pandora's Box
If I could build such a place instead
I'd settle to the places where the sun
[...] Read more
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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