Supernova Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

State of being: empire of the thousand Suns,
What of it, this feigned stance of the synthetic supercilious?
The Sun is famished – disengaging the ties
With the uncouth stars of carnal physique
Burn, a scintillation begets more scintillating
Until everything is lost in a supernova
Of pernicious reactions of bodies in friction
Mouths in succulent attrition of a sodden senescence.
Impeccable timing, each star – a hideous gas
Lies in the deep well of lunging celestial arsons
And lions that are well maimed by the Harlequin
And the lunar tail of the belts that tether
One galaxy to the other.

The coronas, the auroras and the nebulas
Have long been plucked – their splendor
Has tarnished. The incandescent bodies
Of the gorged ethereal are ubiquitous
They have been sedated by oblivion,
And what are we? Each explosion,
Each colliding body, each extinguished flare:
All conspired to dissipate upon the very
Sepulchral grave of the hoarsely crying
Vestige of a corpse that has been lambasted
In the opus of the marauders of inferno.
They ensconced the requiems in their sighs
O, sighing star of nonchalance
Sing my eulogy – recite it in a fatal manner.
You are the modern warfare of the galaxies.

The abyss wanes into the rift
Of the abeyance. There is a toboggan
In the furlough of gravity, and the pristine physics
Of the torments can never explain
The sudden gush of blood from the stars,
Splurging over the moon with a refined savvy
The crimson moon – the bloodied Harlequin
Makes love with the illustrious meridian Sun.
In the manner of two patrician empires
Undergoing a bloodcurdling fray.
Shunned, are the intrinsic energies.
The stars are blinkered, the Sun has died
Inert gases cloy the surreptitiously finicky
Rancid trance of the dismal, arid region.
Succumbing to the demise in the waiting
The final blow is looming,
And you can smell the burning of the embers,
The lifeless aeons on a stygian pyre.
I have come vis-à-vis with the supernova.