Molting From The Flames
Trotting the sandy-hair of mazy maps
With ambivalence hoisted drearily
Into the wanton contours of flaccidly
Wavering irk of my shoulders, singeing
I succumb the obstinate weather
Where fireballs scintillate like doves
And shrills utter of profane debauchery
Dwindling in the lapses of the sine
The fences of three-legged sways espied
Superfluous trample and scars to pawn
Hang adroitly like wind chimes to reckon
I wallow to descry a pint of profanity
Augmented with the strings of vanity
Of sacred parodies, laced not of quandaries
And voraciousness bloats my belly
Burning an ulcer to destruct the veil
Intricately filleting the prostrate grin
Painted for the diurnal holiday spinning
Like a Ferriswheel of throbbing gears
Itching for crumbs and trims for calamities
And scarcities and tyrannies clotting
In the harried ducts of amorphous wraiths
Amidst exuberant pirouettes and drills
Puncturing the stark tinted firmament
I walked through the thin films of ice
Licking the scorching frost in stalactites
A sullying flame of cold tearing spears
Painfully, becoming and unbecoming
What the unfettered telegrams aloft
These sooty walls of rues and blues
Heart snooping coyly in the sinewy rivers
Running through the succinct veins
Molting through the chars and clouts
The prancing flame spew to devour
poem by Norman Santos
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Saudade Banquet
A plethora of unconscious states dwindle
And sifts through the intricately entangled
Living, whilst recounting the direst in every breath
Fumbling downhill the insurmountable breadth
Of superfluous strides towards a slumbering aubade
Without a paramour, a beau without the valor
To brawl and bicker with the profane matrimony
To the innuendos of the picador's grand party—
The clout of spears girdled to every slip of malady
Augmented for every bat of the lash, regardless of
Vying, struggling, living on the surface or not,
We all are rather desiccating beneath our colors
Dead as cold fountains trying to spew glacial films
Of flimsy incorporeal yearnings, searing aloft
Reaching the singeing grazes of the Quasar King
Building a vertex to oust the quintessence,
To kiss the ring and slob the strangling,
Dispensing the stashed castles into the quicksand
And fulminating the feral feint cloyed inside
The orbs and corpuscles pumping not too subtly
As the myriad of action crawls in every word
To personify the form of a double-edged sword
That this nostalgic flagellating wisps beckon.
poem by Norman Santos
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Saturnalia
He picked up his cigarette
With his nimble hands
And dropped his malaise
On his nimbus smile
He moored his trepidation
Amidst looming trees
Sated with voraciousness
Gaunt as his mortality
They tread a rivulet
Of agog prancing fire
And picked up his ashes
In his sinewy veins
And fanned his qualms
In a tacit realm
He plucked out a thorn
Riveted in his rib cage
And stomped on the fertility
Of the garden in his hands
Unsullied but squalid
Lanterns in blossom
While its tangled roots finagled
With the cajoles of the heart
The saturnine seethes of flame
Tingled the oceanic eyes
And he picked up his glass
And drank its serrations
He swathed his bleeding tongue
With a rasping sedation
He picked up the moon
Fallen from the night
He cried for its unrivaled doom
And the mirroring blight
He plied the gossamer
And the desiccation of the sea
But he never grew pale
So he picked up a star
To hung a chandelier
And flicked on the light
Of a transient thrill
Denying oblivion's shrill
In a ravine of coiled lynches
He picked up himself
And squandered it away
And there was no fear
Just a stark demise
poem by Norman Santos
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Flame Of Hope
Theres a flame of hope
Burning in my heart
And theres a strange emotion
Tearing me apart
Cause I know
I know
Cause I know
Theres a flame of hope
Calling out your name
But when my arms embrace you
It extinguishes the flame
Cause I know
I know
Cause I know
song performed by by Omd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lambasted Deferral Of My Puissant Muse
In this world of odes
Every whisper is a trap
Rummaging for preys
A lascivious answer
Where hunger feeds on
Another a hunger;
An ouroboros inscribed
Without a concatenation
To fill in the famished lapses
In this clandestine world
A flaccid orb of gas
From the cigarette parting
Your thin veneered lips
And streams from gutters
Of your slicing eyes,
The land, fertile for the dead,
In your taut skin of white
The odes, traipsed in
The wrinkles nonexistent to the eye
But felt through the coarse
Beat of the dogtrotted hearts
This world ornately meshed
Into the pentagrams of your
Enchanting spells, I flounced
To find a looming pantheon
Of serpents eluded by
The prattling of their own tails
They succumb themselves
Drawing a circlet of scales
And I was the panther
Musing the surrealism
Of your riddles
With a forked tongue
Comanded by its musing
In this world of putrefaction
To vie for life, your own or not,
You are the venom moseying
The sinewy veins in my wrists
I'd rather die than bleed
You out, for that life
Is rather long asleep
The pain of your efflorescence
Is the beckon of life.
Puncturing the slumbering culprits
To stir in their haitus
To obfuscate the clout
And reveal the remedy ebbing
Into the very poison
If this world is a sole cellar
Residing in those cold tears
Guttering flagrantly yet subtly
In the circles of your palms
Then must I submit and efface
The quintessence of self?
In a harried vie, where I
Only reap vaporous clouds
When I disembogued the home in my land
To eat the fire of your skies
In this world, you are:
The home I pawned for,
The sun I dare swallow
To be a suffice source of warmth
And vexation— a mooring banister
Whenever you trample,
The harlot of the art
In severing lies and
Risque vulnerability
And I am but
Another agog dancer
In the heraldry
Of your wobbling saunters.
poem by Norman Santos
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Garden Of Drudgery
My vicious skies disengaging the exiguous quasars
To thaw the soldering frost-mourn aloft inside
And the maudlin with a frozen brook in a jar
Drowned with shriveled legs from the labyrinthine stride
Now, above head is a mirror of the vast sea
Of people feigning their sedative bliss for agonies
And abortive sorrows propelled in the chalcedony
Sinking everything in a valley of roses and drudgery
Come, lay with me and muse as the albino sun
Scull its superfluous fingers to sine the parliament
Of hostile macabre breaths debauching the wan
And pointless toiling to own or keep the firmament
In the brambly floor of this frowned vale
We shall lacerate to bleed out the vying soul
Until our skin can feel no more, our bones so frail
Shall not break no more, and we will be the lips of the hole
In this garden of drudgery, fluttering with the plucked petals
Everything is painted with the darkest golderfloes
The nadirs are preempted fluent in stains of the vestal
And walls are mightier than the bridges' tows
For the plethora of flowers brew a puissant redolence
That vexes the quintessence of a mystified vagabond
The strings of aromatic auspicious few is now in valence
With treacherous taste of cyanide flaming to abscond
poem by Norman Santos
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To Plant A Seed
Like the enigmas woven upon
the regal tapestry of dreams
we instill niceties into
the desperate and famished earth
razing our own barricades
and knotting golden tethers
upon the forests that we make
And nights will perch upon
the lovely slender boughs
And days will park on its eaves
filleting the lofty fences
veins crawling, sprawling
unto the cradle of distant stars
and their scintillating talks
while the grandiose inculcate
a flummoxed aeon down
into the heart of a dead star
But we forget them
when we lose our own maps
and constellations
from the fire of our conceit -
we lose the monarchy of trees
which kept our secrets
upon their clandestine zithers
and the quintessence
is lost amongst the memories
Amidst lights, my penetralium
is a dislimned diamond -
obstinate and lustrous
against your scouring
trembling with coruscations
though every word cadenced
for the breath pawned
for your sleep's quiescence
is another seed planted inside
the fissures of my defense -
A bliss draped in the most
atrocious sensation
We are surmised
when we planted a seed -
puppets strangled with
our silky strings of
strangling vines,
and we are blinded
by fear and pride
A tree rooted, gnarled
upon a lifeless boulder:
A seed planted
and now rupturing
to be castrated
and thrown into the
hearth of malignance.
poem by Norman Santos
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I've tried to reduce profanity but I reduced so much profanity when writing the book that I'm afraid not much could come out. Perhaps we will have to consider it simply as a profane book and hope that the next book will be less profane or perhaps more sacred.
quote by Ernest Hemingway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Flame
I find myself remembering things I thought I'd forgot
I thought I'd gotten over you but I can see I've not
And seeing you has made me realize how wrong I've been
And the torch I've carried for so long is burning bright again
The flame is burning bright again it just took my seeing you to know
That the flame had not burned out it just had flickered low
Yes I still love you just as much as I ever did before
The flame is burning bright again and I can't fight it anymore
Could it be your seeing me has set your heart on fire
Could it be old memories has filled you with desire
Oh if after all this time you find that you still feel the same
Then come and take my hand and walk with me into the flame
The flame is burning bright again...
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Road Away The Night
The night perched on its favorite peak
To let down the pall of oblivion and
Murmur temptations into the wind
It's reedy voice swept and perforated
The euphonious singing of the stars
Like a dissonant violent string it shrilled
And shattered the taut smile hoisted
In the harlequinade that comforted
This pilfered parcel of direst and slosh
The aqueous blood of the saline sea
Where the memories drowned struggling
These convoluted meandering that lead
In a rendezvous with death's scythe
Is starting to outnumber the plethora
Of my night terrors and day dreams
And the shadow of my blinded fears
Is starting to blend into the thin walls
That rectifies my ebbing faults and sin -
I am lost in this aimless wandering.
Walking upon this slivers of rues and regrets
And slathered with the profound burning
Of these salty tears of absolution and bereft,
I conspired for my salvation, and still
The only wisp of light in the firmament
And the only peace roving in the air
Was the same treason in these veins -
The liberation to this labyrinth
Is another sweet immolation
Perhaps, the night will always fall
And her phantoms will always call
The vultures will fence my sleep hoping
That I may finally found the valiance
To face the black demise of the night
But with my complacent obduracy
Perhaps I will endure this walk with time
And the scars will fade, but not your face
And the sun would sink, but not my yearning
And the night will wan with all her demons
But not the trepidation in trampling
In the sweetest treacherous roads.
poem by Norman Santos
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Keep The Fires Burning
(j.p. maunick/r. hayden)
(we got to keep the fire)
(we got to keep the fires burning)
When you find
Youre all alone
And the walls come closing in
No place to run
And no one there to turn to
Now your options running thin
Dont be afraid to step into the darkness
Reach out for the flame within
From ancient times
A lesson given to you
Never give up until you win (hey)
Chorus:
(we got to keep the fires burning)
Burnin
(a flame so bright to show the way)
Oh, come on people sing
We got to keep the fires burnin
That/god? leads us to a better day (yeah)
Look to the light
Children of the future
Well guide you through the stormy sea
But keep an eye for hiding in the shadows
Are those who stopped you bein free
Chorus
Repeat (fade)
song performed by by Incognito
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strangled Capitulate
The brass moon flaccidly craned
Into the fringes of your rivers
And it scattered in the graceful waves
Touching the bosom of your caves
And the phosphors of the ripples betroths
My sullen vision, tired and wrought,
With the peril of aberrations
Of my own paddled surges
Auspiciously perishing the banks
With mouths open to intolerantly devour
The quintessence of your inflection
But then you are there, still,
Afloat in the infinitesimal streams
With fleuron fragrance of dispositions
Tapering the sealed lamentations
You are such a vision
Like a colorless lily
Held by a hand without face,
Kissed by lips without ardor,
Or a name without a visage
Immolating the jocund carousing,
Another caroming in the night of flustering
Mirror house of introspection
Reckon that with every sweep
Of your glances, or your shots
Small with a puissant tirade
I do reckon, what is
And what should never be—
Chasing its own tail
In every break and bend
Of every itching line
To not convey
The dithering desire
To flagrantly raise
The white flag
For the captivated
And the defeated.
poem by Norman Santos
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Profane Poet
Oh how it would enable me
To titillate my vanity
If you should choose to label me
A Poet of Profanity!
For I've been known with vulgar slang
To stoke the Sacred Fire,
And even used a word like 'hang',
Suggesting ire.
Yea, I've been slyly told, although
It savours of inanity,
In print the ladies often show
A failing for profanity.
So to delight the dears I try,
And often in the past
In fabricating sonnets I
Have fulminated: 'Blast!'
I know I shock the sober folk
Who doubt my lyric sanity,
And readers of my rhyme provoke
By publishing profanity,
But oh a hale and hearty curse
Is very dear to me,
And so I end this bit of verse
With d-- and d-- and d--!
poem by Robert William Service
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Love Kills
Love don't give no compensation
love don't pay no bills.
Love don't give no indication
love just won't stand still.
Love kills
drills you through your heart
Love kills
scars you from the start.
It's just a living pastime
ruling your heart line
stay for a lifetime.
Won't let you go 'cause love
love
love won't leave you alone.
Love don't take no resenration
love is no square deal.
Hey
love don't @ve no justification
strikes rike cold steel.
Love kills
drills you through your heart
Love kills
scars you from the start.
It's just a living pastime burning your lifeline
Gives you a hard time
Won't let you go 'cause love
love
love wonY leave you alone.
Hey
love can play with your emotions
open invitations to your heart.
Hey
love kills. Play with your emotions
open invitations to your heart
To your heart
to your heart
love kills.
Love kills
hey
hey
love kills
love kills
love kills
love kills.
Love can play with your emotions
open invitations.
Love kills
hey
drills you through your heart.
Love kills
scars you from the start.
It's just a living pastime
ruling your heart line
won't let you go.
Love kills
hey
drills you through your heart
Love kills
tears you right apart.
It won't let go
it won't let go
love kills
yeah
yeah.
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wind Chimes
Hangin' down from my window
Those are my wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
In the late afternoon you're
Hung up on wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
Though it's hard i try
Not to look at my wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
Now and then a tear rolls on my cheek
On a warm breeze the little bells
Tinklin' wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
Close your eyes and lean back
Listen to wind chimes
Wind chimes
Wind chimes
It's so peaceful
Close to a lullabye
The wind chimes tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
The wind chimes tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
Tinglin'
Da do do da do do da do do da do do
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
Whisperin' winds send my wind chimes a tinklin'
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tears and tears [Lcrime şi lacrime]
Stop your crying, curb your fears,
Heart unlucky and profane,
Through your big and bloody tears
Never heals or disappears
My deep wound and my great pain.
Pain that's burning like a flame
In my chest, but without smoke,
Where the sorrow quickly came,
Dripping bitter gall and shame,
On my neck to put a yoke.
Ah! And keep this in your mind
That the flame which spoils my glee
Through some vows sincere and kind
A tear burning and refined
Of sweet love has lit in me.
poem by Veronica Micle, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Scavenging
All the boys crammed
The puncture of evanescence
Like kings with poly-vinyl thrones
Eyes moseying the harried ducts
Prying, calculating, or simply
Living on the surface of things
Life ebbed and they're still
A wolf pack; licking legs,
Grinding fangs, cigarette parting
The superfluous lips
And I was there, somersaulting
Behind the surrealistic blur
Scavenging amongst the wolves:
A swarthy incompetent sot
With an illustrious frivolity
Of a decaying carrion
In the wolves' den,
Prying, calculating
The oddities.
Many a men can,
I'm a man who wouldn't
Or more apt, can not
Become a member of the pack.
poem by Norman Santos
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Scars
(ian hunter/darrell bath/honest john plain)
Well I still got your blood running through my veins
I still got your blood running through my veins
And even though the circumstances change
I know we never got along - the pieces would not fit
And I still got the scars to show for it
Staring through the window at the rain
Is it me or have all the colours changed?
I was sick with jealousy
I know why you had to split
And you still got the scars to prove it.
I cant see them, but I can feel them
Theyre tearing me up inside
I feel them kicking - I feel them sticking
Like something in me died
And its all right - I wish you the very best
I just had to get it/this off my chest
People tell me on the street that you dont give a
I took that kind of hard
Its just another kind of scar I got to show for it
Its just another scar I got to show for it
I still got your blood running through my vein
But I still got your blood running through my vein
I still got your blood running through my vein
I say I still got your blood running through my vein
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children of Magdalene
There are so many dead pretending to live amongst us now
who belong to a church hidden behind the harvest of hate
which takes us in and blinks us out with ignorant eyes
and condemn us for lying together in the tombs of our beds
while their savior hangs from nails displayed on hollow walls
and our sacrifices are left to hang on fences
bleeding rivers of glory
to wash away the sins of their world
This prejudice is the pain that clouds my eyes and knots my spine
the scars on the back of my head
engraved by those who reach out open arms
bloodied with hypocrisy, lost dreams, and intangible mantras
those who haunt our daily prayers
with the sounds of oppression
to silence our shepherds with death
because death equals dreams never to be heard of again
and our prophets get no maps to salvation
But the wind will not inherit the echoes of our souls
we will not leave our canvas with unfinished colors
or remain the uninvited children of a lesser God
we will ground our bare feet with toes in soil
listen for the wind chimes in the insanity of life
light candles for our brothers and sisters
from the West Side Highway piers of New York City
to the farm lands of Laramie, Wyoming
to the Castro Streets of San Francisco
and feel the closest we can to heaven
because true love has no boundaries
and our angels have wings too
poem by Emanuel Xavier
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Evocative Wings
My words lay asleep
in the luminous quartz
with your phosphorescent
and pliant burl of chains
as I reckon your picaresque tales
and how it overlapped
my taut and tedious
windows and persiennes
and its ruminating
choreography
Because in these nights
when the wanton wind
fails to fan
the stars' white flame
I reckon how
our immense skies
wore different shades
And the countless miles
surrounding us
even those etched inside
in our lost fathoms
never failed
to break us asunder
in gentle goodnights
If I can only
plaster the winding roads
so I can at least
look back more carefully
but the lights blinded
my flustered eyes
and the maps
had already changed
along with all
the farce
shifting
How I loved you
in a spur of time
stronger than the waters
dividing the hills
or the blood
boiling beneath
Like birds
from the same nest
our evocative wings
and different plumes
were separated by
different climates
Reckoned by your moony eyes
and supple serenades
I broke into a smile -
a wry dancing in dementia
I hope for hope
for your steadfast gamble
against the ephemeral girdle
and though -
like these maps
and memories
we have waned
To me,
in this instilled soliloquy
I find you
perfunctorily
infinite.
poem by Norman Santos
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A New Flame for the Old Embers
The vapid rain breaking upon the quietude
of the pebbles under our monastic feet
reminds me of the words sent into your halls
ricocheting like a phantom's dying plea -
futilely emitted from the shy rupture,
a premature eruption, to taste the savvy
of disappointments and rueful affinities
How aplomb are the pummeling underneath
the weather's veins - blue and sterile as
the ethers inflamed inside my nights
I fell into a dreamy stupor, loquacious sibilance
stings like a razor from the charred memories
And, through and through, I slide inside
the abortive cradle of fire, wondering
if the flames invoked by the same embers
are alike, or do they dissipate and die
when the rain collapses from its slumber
and leave remnants of its piquant touch to
give birth to another ocean of soldering mirages
In this horizontal vertigo of water and flame,
I instill enigmas into the interpolating leaves
and some other night, under a new moon
I would ruminate awake and bleared: to what
these soughing violins of the trees demand?
Like a thunder whetted by the extremities
of temperature, I hoard all these injuries
and soon would my sun reveal its horns
and the superfluous flames it had hatched
from the brooding upon atrophied ties
Because for now, I can only live inside
the chrysalis of the mind, cicatrizing
the salted wounds and dabbing the
beautiful smears that I shall nurture
to make wings of vanity and, here
I shall dream of flitting back unto
your cavernous firmament like
a defunct chandelier swooning for
your flamboyant palettes, and dream
I shall, until the colors subside and dissolve
into my fastidious realizations
of lacquered flames prancing
above these cold ancient coals.
poem by Norman Santos
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