Verisimilitude Of Grandiose Ii: The Fiesta Poem by Norman F. Santos

Unlatch the porticos of this colossal wardrobe
Titivated with banderitas and foxtrot musicales
And you shall find the serpentine-reposed bedlam
Hissing in the cacophony of a grandiose festival
Where everyone gorge upon the guilty pleasure
Of watching a picador ignite the wick of a skirmish
Brawl with the raging prongs of an uncouth bull
And their eyes flutter with the palming sway of the cloth
Painted in the incinerating passion of blood thirst
And the echoing roars of their squalid orifices
That is either hungry for a sloppy tongue sex
Or for a cigarillo, or a rum, or a chance
To spill out the teeming chutzpa and arrogance;
Unsheathes an impaling impetus to the picador
With his heart bursting on the creases of the seams.
Definitely, he is the idée fixe of the festivity
But the pantomimic cries of the spectators
Are not for the invigoration of the valiant exhibition
But for whetting the bull’s smoldering horns
And for hasting the coiling death of the picador.
The rendezvous of the scant chest and the horn
Will rejoice and hurtle with the frenzied ambiance
And revel with the inebriation of injury
That shall draw more of their infinite sycophancy
While the picador gratifies himself with the potency
In another festival inside the bones’ frailty;
Indeed, life is a blaring pulp of a fiesta.