Marred Metamorphosis Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Saturnine, the wind howls
Accurately throttling, eyes bawl
Don’t – for in the distance, the Sun scowls
From where the wind crashes to my simian jowl

The dark is fast approaching, the midnight screams hazy
The morning will soon be dawning, the caricature withdraws from clarity
And what is, among the distant stars and constellations, a grave parity?
Is it where the moon light loses verve and soliloquy, and the moon’s tongue speaks of equanimity?

What to feel, in this bed of fiery blue,
In the obscured luminosity of pallid hues,
Then if dreams shed light, then shattered are the views
The mirrors catch the coiled dreams athwart from a muse

Fumble in one’s walk, stutter in one’s own talk
From where the thunder rumbles, the prying trance stalks
In the manner of a phantasm, the miasma of the night’s veneer glides like a hawk
What benign hope lies, resists like a frenzied amok

Look at the crystal tears of the night,
Incredulous in its downfall, my hope fades out of spite
Gregarious children of the night, impale me to a sunken granite
Then with one more gasp for subsistence, I am engulfed by the vast midnight

By the corner of one dark allusion, there’s a quavering bliss
None that my farcically famishing hands could ever entice
In this dead disillusionment, a bland wind carries a solstice
Spare me, debauchery of this blight – let me efface this marred metamorphosis