Tonight, The Silence Rise
In these dire times
Silence is a perilous harbinger
Of many wretched auguries
Like a hellhound's bark
Gagged by a turbulent whim
Rummaging through the sedation
Palled by the generous night
And the absence of distractions:
Lips sapping deaths on sticks,
Eyes fluttering with the pendulum,
Electric tongues forking clouds,
Rose-wine flame roaring inside,
And the lionized brethren of souls
Lamenting on the moon's harlequinade
I perish and writhe unbeknownst
To the diadem of revolving doors
That you opened like a wound
And left with a wrathful storm
In this silence, where sleep
Laid buried among the quartz
And peace revealed itself a mask
Guzzling the yellow teeth gritting
In morbid pain and despondence
Darker than your own flipping wings
I am beckoned back to the rooms
Where your last cigarette stick incinerates
Without your fervent dragging
And your last promises of infinitude
Tarnished in its relented demise
And the loneliness in these rooms
Of fragmented verve, dissected deaths
Is ineffable in the brine of tears
Chaffing through the defeated eyes
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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