Den Of Lions Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

And so as I slowly prance
This colossal den of lost dreams
With pains that assumed the form
And body, stalwart and proud,
Of lions, vicious and savage
With a howl that scowls upon
Weak, insipid men and puny lives

I have gained the acquaintance
Of dancing around with lions,
Or a lion alone, for a lion without a pack
Is as indomitable as being desolate
By a park bench freezing,
In front of a banquet gasping
I know all of this,

And as obvious as it may seem,
The claws stretch out, gnawing
Clawing its way, like the past
That has gone astray like the fine smoke
In a sea of nostalgia, waxing over the
Facile secrecy of the sea’s decadent woes
I do not know of the sea’s woes
But I know how to gyrate with a lioness

And so a lioness speaks eloquently
With a roar and a prowl that signify a pristine blarney
Of how should a lioness act in front of a hunter
In the encircling, narrowing den of thieves and not lions
Because lions, as ferocious as a thief, will never be thief
A lioness will always be an assailant not of lives
But dreams, hopes and fate

Now leave me, with your studded porcelain beauty
With the immense moon forming burning silhouettes
With the panache of a graceful dancer by the gravity and trance
Of souls that are trapped in the stars,
I have tamed a lioness,
And have held her in my arms, too close to my heart

And now she has left coldly, brusquely
Without a roar, nor a vestige to follow
As I saunter past the rocks sleeping like callow eyes
I cannot find my way out,
You have left me
In a den of lions.