Suspended Mortality
My bones shifted
Where a truant soul
Once malingered,
My eyes lisp into
The siphoning light
Purge into whiteness,
My lips quaver malignantly
And then sojourns shuddering
As a wisp of breath escaped
Into an abortive valley,
My grip tightens then
Loosen its flimsy cajoling
Torn between fighting
For convalescence and
Submitting into honesty:
To severing the cord;
I chose to fought to keep
The persiennes open
And to resuscitate
The painful haggling
But how do we fill our holes?
We live and breathe,
But what do we live for?
This skin is marred
By scars of little deaths
Pestered by the superfluity
Of bruises and sanguinary
For many a struggling and
Infinite unrivaled contending
These oppressions that
Sullies the sleepless vault
Is the same desiccation
I found in a burning wood
Thrown into the hearth
Accumulating warmth
This is the machinism
Of the puppet and his strings
Finding quintessence in
Harried places.
And as we ruminate
Into these glacial trail
Of our squalid putrefaction
We hope to make amends
Underneath a requiem
We vie for verve, we vie for demise
We vie to remember, we vie to forget
The tongue held in the cheek
[...] Read more
poem by Norman Santos
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