The Strife Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The moon
Stars
Sun
Clouds shaped like
Fortresses
The photographs
That hold you
The shutters
Where you sleep behind
Your bed
Your cotton sheathe
Books,
Door knobs,
Locks and keys,
That dreadful bus driver
Who asked for your fare,
The aeroplane
That divides the sky
This lunatic’s asylum
Fire
Oceanic flail of the wind
Your music,
Arts and science behind
Oblivious cities

They have you.

Albeit
The clock
And the slow passing of time
Stifles me
With a strife.