Redundancy in Abundance
Exuding eloquent dismal
Over the trickling perspirations
Of exhausting redundancy
Is but amassing more to credence
In the thicket of its abundance
I'd rather hold my breath
In a hiatus.
For one, the searing streets
Is full of stray cats making slinky love
With the baleful rake of amour
And their hoarse caterwauls
Disembogue the quintessence
That sex became overrated
And love dissipated
In the grazing of tongues
And bracing of flesh.
And there's the lubricated
Lubricous gears of the tethered clock
That never sojourn for a migraine,
Never sway slowly for a holiday,
And we pounce with it
Every goddamned day,
Impenitently hating the pace
Of every goddamned days!
I have seen a poet
Write about anything every time
Like the Asian snowflakes
That he'd never seen
Metaphysically or otherwise,
And efface the pedagogy
In the art of poetry
With depth and significance.
And there's a loneliness
That drove a man
To eat in the banquet
Of diurnal redundancy
Pretending to watch the T.V.,
Dwelling in a pseudo-revelry,
Clipping wings and depleting songs
Like a caged canary.
There is an impasse
In the chambers of the heart
That you held in your arms
With profane vigilance
That makes you wonder:
[...] Read more
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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