Norman F. Santos
Love - A Mission To Submission - Poem by Norman F. Santos
Sing ballads of tragic romance like a siren
And caress my name with a spell-binding levity
Quicken the rancor feel, ignite the noxious thrill
I shall clad myself with the best suit to enthuse you
Fastidious, luxuriant, deceitful spider web
Bleared to delude a trampled tatterdemalion soul
Inject an ounce of faith in my defunct city
Ensnare this boy to your incredulous sorcery
Can you manipulate to corrupt those three words?
And sedate me with a daft garden of daffodils?
Then I shall spew that I love you and I will love you
Acquiesce the blade in my morbidly whittled collar
Music shall perish, genuflect on a martyr
The angels are dead, the devils are here cowering
As I lynched myself with the strings of your promise
And you ignite the mad pyre below my calloused feet
For love shall be quizzical with your stern gestures
The lips of hope foretold: love is an invitation
Propel like hurricane with wings of vanity
And entice me to submit to your invitation
Loosen the girdle of my fragile convictions
I shall muse you like the moon on its bleared penumbra
With skin of snow, hair of fire, and loquacious eyes
Stained to cleave with a subliminal enigma
Lament the drought in my mouth with your faithful tongue
Ignite the frantic villages in my aching skin
Can you drag beauty into your oblivion?
And find soul gravitated between toppling pillars?
Then I shall plunge straight into your frowning chasms
And prance inside a storm to acquaint with treachery
The curtains shall fall to bury this carnal show
The audience shall roar bloating from the carnage and gore
As I drink down the shabby bliss I can educe
And you haul out my pitiful soul from my chapped lips
For love shall remain a virgin in your absence
The tongues of treason told: love is an evil theft.
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