Norman F. Santos
Genocide - Poem by Norman F. Santos
At the bottom of a tarnished trench;
A pit of rejection, but a kingdom to most
An amorphous tyrant flagrantly confound
Of nefarious sorcery on every soul
Expiring offense that selfishly billow
Restlessly expanding in a colossal coil;
A sympathetic cry bellowing the precipice.
Preaching like the son of the Lord
Compelling abhor with a sordid jargon
Of chocking obnoxious stench,
Of lazy stirring fume of strangulation;
A miasma of incorporeal waste
Seething through the calloused lungs
Voraciously depleting minute bronchial sacs
Like narrowing tunnels sucking souls.
Fragile vaults will collapse with the laceration
While others may endure the tempest trounce
This thick smoke that hazardously leaks
Hovering a mantle that ensnare the hamlet
Reeking surreptitiously with latent felony
From a burning bud not of rose or ivy
But with one you seal between your lips
And one you acquaint with the sweetest kiss.
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