<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471675" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Vacant Chambers and Cigarettes</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Gods have spoken<br>Of what I am, was, and shall<br>In a telegram of impious sighs<br>Marauding an open door<br>That I had left ajar with my eyes<br>Always sleuthing in askance<br>For a serenading knock, <br>And the castigators<br>Riding the yuletide wind and cars<br>Revved a gyrating silence<br>Of a lamented psyche<br>That I have naught but<br>Black lips made of cinder and derision<br>Engulfed by a daft genocide<br>And my chest hangs on a scaffold<br>Whilst the sun sprawled in recumbence<br>When the clock divulged<br>The barren quarters<br>In the teeming alleys, <br>The unrequited eyes<br>Amongst the adamantine<br>Petals of a blossoming asphodel<br>The empty hands, <br>Amidst the bountiful grains<br>Of time and its subterfuges, <br>The quavering lips<br>That had never talked to anyone<br>But fated to kiss the rings<br>Of the vacant chambers<br>In these squandering cigarettes<br>And as I wait for a key<br>That lingers on the billowing air<br>Palmed by infinitesimal humming birds<br>A colossus mauling in the small of my frame<br>Undraped to be a heartless beating<br>And until one stepped into the trellis<br>Close enough to the gaping antechamber<br>Of my vacant city<br>I shall shed a salty sea<br>In the pseudo-heavens mantling above.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Norman+Santos">Norman Santos</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471675" data-title="Vacant Chambers and Cigarettes de Norman Santos" data-description="The Gods have spoken Of what I am, was, and shall In a telegram of impious sighs Marauding an open door That I had left ajar with my eyes Always sleuthing in askance For a serenading knock, And the castigators Riding the yuletide wind and cars Re..."></div> </div> </div>

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