Saudade Banquet
A plethora of unconscious states dwindle
And sifts through the intricately entangled
Living, whilst recounting the direst in every breath
Fumbling downhill the insurmountable breadth
Of superfluous strides towards a slumbering aubade
Without a paramour, a beau without the valor
To brawl and bicker with the profane matrimony
To the innuendos of the picador's grand party—
The clout of spears girdled to every slip of malady
Augmented for every bat of the lash, regardless of
Vying, struggling, living on the surface or not,
We all are rather desiccating beneath our colors
Dead as cold fountains trying to spew glacial films
Of flimsy incorporeal yearnings, searing aloft
Reaching the singeing grazes of the Quasar King
Building a vertex to oust the quintessence,
To kiss the ring and slob the strangling,
Dispensing the stashed castles into the quicksand
And fulminating the feral feint cloyed inside
The orbs and corpuscles pumping not too subtly
As the myriad of action crawls in every word
To personify the form of a double-edged sword
That this nostalgic flagellating wisps beckon.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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