Flagrant Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The crowds,
The audiences,
The moon and the noise
That billows around
As if castigating me,
Such obstinate desires
To restore me.

The randy people
They were laughing
And jeering
And prattling about
Who looks better
In a poorly sewn clothing
Who answers eruditely
With a quaint, jolting wit.
But never
Who’s had their heart broken
That day.
Who needs help,
During the night where
The nightmares,
The breathing walls
Will never let one live.

And now,
Here they are again
Laughing
Living in worn out integuments
Such feigned states
Of invulnerability.
They are back
With such flagrant disregard
To that man with the gray bowtie
Who died inside of him
As the people took turns
In marveling at this labyrinthine owl.

At that moment of revelry
I have never felt
So alone
And dead
In my life.

This is just
One of those moments
Where you are not impressed
At all
In the aesthetics of every line.
I am not impressed
Nor compelled
Reading this eulogy
To a man who died
In the middle
Of a soiree.