Smoke And Mirrors Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Hundred days that fall into one,
The barricaded moon and the cringing Sun
With photographs of the mausoleum, the humdrum
Which call forth the demon in the heaven’s mire

Spinning clocks that lose the hinges,
Stultify thy honor, improbable dreaded beast
The scabbard standing, lest the blade be sleeping,
Queens fell down in dignity, kings have lost the regal fire

The quagmire, the flare in the mud
The umpire, the firestarter of the kerosene dispute
With thoughts compelling aged wine and thorns
Of petals and empty bottles spoiled by the aurora

Abashed fortress, dazed to the wilderness
Protagonists bleed in stories, antagonists drink poison
Exemplars that know nothing about salvation,
And adversaries that plot annihilation

Shattered glass, stony pass
Empty crevasse, tall blades of grass
Stale valor, shallow glory
Sordid princess with a debonair silken river flowing

Sultry air,
The sophisticated fall dwindling in despair
There’s really nothing there,
Only smoke and mirrors