Holiday For The Forgotten
Here, have some of my holiday,
Reveling in the blares of soliloquy
And watching the stars shift their bones
Waiting for the first signs of dawn
And laying awake in your bedroom
Until the sunspots would fritter away
Again, back into the Mobius Strip
Of impassable holidays.
Come take a seat in my banquet
A hollow table for eight people
With sutured lips and eyes,
A superfluity of feast and revelry
In a plethora of emptiness,
That would keep us bloated
All through the gaudy merriment
Of the dilettante eve.
Succor in the warmth of an empty hearth
And be accustomed to the comport
Of the bleak echoes of silence
And let us open the presents
That we wrapped for ourselves
And the unanticipated letters
Of coveting unfettered friends,
Inebriate with the pangs of jealousy.
Evocatively, inexorably,
A surfeit of effervescent air
Can suffocate the trampled ones
Whose names were not inscribed
In the jaunty arms of carousals
But we, we will breath our own air
With the cinders of schmaltz flair
Cordially inviting in the holiday of the forgotten.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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