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Destitution
The table spun
Like a coarse roulette
And the hilarity
Coruscated a fire
Singeing the bosom
Of the undulating waves
Of the frescoes
As the cup writhe
And quaffs pound
A soundless song
Of ricocheting toll.
A star fell
With the cinders
Of a raped cigarette
And no one cared
For this oppression
To be hauled
From splintering
In a detrimental
Sublimation
And no one wished
Upon its descend
But its own
Aberrance
Groveling for
Abeyance.
In spite of
The regality
Of this mendaciloquent
Farce comedy
My facilities
Are too scarce,
But bountiful
With scars
Of bickering
Destitution.
poem
by
Norman Santos
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