The Jepoardy
My stride was taciturn
like the voice supressed
behind these clenched teeth
until I found your monument
gazing like an astute gargoyle
on a ponderous musing;
I washed my face with shame
and utter a cacophony
You stole my subterfuges
like how the night pilfers
the seething of my eenui;
I surrender everything
upon your austere relvance
most grandiloquently painted
on these perpetual gray mornings
But the road took slurs
and like a stammering promise
it was opressed by veracity;
the nefarious truth bludgeons us
to the end of our tethers
with its vise like vigor and filth
Now I wallow in this quagmire
trying to hide away from you,
trying to run away from me,
but I always trample to find you -
hands in akimbo, eyes down casted
upon my groveling pride and
my embarassed defenses
The taste of your soul is a poison -
a dungeon I carry amongst
the tangled convictions inside
this wearing skin and bones -
a babel of virulent destruction
that keeps me breathing and alive
in this sublime jeopardy
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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