Fortuity Of A Mnemonist Poem by Norman F. Santos

Corrosive maps of calamitous sailings
Shambled with the shivering pebbles on his feet
As he vied to mould in this shaping
And molt from a smothering predicament
In grills of iron for an ill-fated mnemonist.
As he acquaints with the candid kind of hope–
A cheap analgesic, an unstained gleam of faith,
And eviscerate the forlorn kind of hope–
Tethered in a bipolar dagger of suffering;
He shall digress like an intrepid blackbird
From the debauching glacial torments
Of the menmonist’s veraciousness–
Purged of idealisms, and direly maimed
By reminiscences of the fine languid rapiers
Of your comely trivialities and particulars
Shrilling like the jaunty risqué razors
Of the wintry famished slavering mouth
Of the pasquinade discreetly wrought
In the solitariness of his brooding soul
And tied up in a pillar of memories–
Of delusions in your dearth presence;
Your absence in this unparallel existence
That whittles a lingering tinge of wonder
In his dangling weary wrists and veins
Teeming with both kinds of hope,
He would still remain a mnemonist;
This striving tatterdemalion vagabond
With ornate maps from prostrate courses
But with a stronger gossamer vindication
Unscathed of greedy truculence that corrodes
With the toppling of your interests
He shall envision of the plethora of chances
As the blue birds sing by the awning
Of his brand new lacquer eaves
He shall recuperate from atrocity
And divulge in a munificent enshrouding
Of nakedness; another kind of hoping.