Tangerine Poise Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The tangerine poise,
In the midway fast approaching
Chronology of the imminent collapse
Of your stellar recognition, created by one’s self.

I am lost in the subtle noise,
Of the blemished tangerine poise
The cloisters are talking to me,
Like shadows and murmurs of the heart

The sea, calling out to me,
Weaving threads of loose hope
In the inspired air and tangerine poise
Sagacity seems to speak, like a priest

The vulgarity of,
And the name embossed on rocks and chambers
Of the tangerine poise,
Going away, the renegade bliss attached herewith

That is how I am acquainted
With the grasp and the hoarse tangerine poise
That bellows in the air of convex disappearance
The world, in the noose of flustered disarray