Lionized
The night dawned beneath
the searing diadems
sprawled on the floors
without a king or a queen
like a roarless lion
prancing on a tawny field
without any manifestation -
a gilded mass of a shadow
capitulated from its vigor
The light spangling faintly
upon the sweating glass
the pendulum crashed
with the moon on her boudoir
clad by gargoyle clouds
we possess the darkness
cloyed by our eyes
We took ferocity for granted
whuthering from the ascent
the soldering amber sent -
A babel of roars marauding
the forlorn passages to the
gaping chamber of frailty
like a folded letter sweating
in gasoline we await
to be torched before them:
a terse plea to be saved
in the resonance of the pangs
of a miserable wound's cry
cussing with a threat
In this clandestine stupor
I found the enigma of the trees;
their interpolations caught
in the equinox of time
while the whimsy downpour
beats our jellyfish backs
like storm-troubled wings
heralding ludicrous tidings
and before the jeopardy
cicatrize in the garrisons
we called for seraphic pardons
and their vanguard hailed
like blood lusting lances
turbidly awakening the lions
asleep under their cages
Insinuated from the mayhem
a searing sputter broke
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poem by Norman Santos
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