Fujiwara Effect
I incarcerate myself
inside this harrying vertigo
lambasting with a ponderous
tirade of thunders and lightning
And as I take the conflagration
brought by the sentimental tempest
and drown in your naïve downpour
the scythes of madness dance
like the petals gliding contingency,
as subtle as the gray macabre
behind the clouds of your squall
And this calamity hungers
for more obliteration, annihilation
like how pain needs more pain,
like how an open wound inviting
infection to amputate the roots,
So gust after gust, I inveigled
the lancers to come my way
where I docilely lay on the mud
listening for the ripples secrets
Until a storm fadangoed with a storm
and in the oppressive limbo
I rivet myself in the brunt
oblivious in the fathoms of despair
with a staid despondence
And when everything is ailed
unto a consummate destruction
perhaps, just perhaps,
there'd be room for tomorrow
and a peace that can cradle
the lost perchance of restoration
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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