Technicolored Lily Poem by Norman F. Santos

Superfluous enchantment
Sealed between my own lips
Purges the vile nicotine
With no intention to wean
And throw a part of me
Because I have learned
Of a splendor farfetched
From your bigoted context
And I have unearthed
From other yearning denizens
That I, too, possess jewels
In the rarest forms
Brighter than any luminaries
And that my endeavors
Don’t deserve to be so tragic,
Thus, persuading infinity
In a sense far from drudgery
As I muse upon a lone lily
That creeps upon my spine
Whenever I resign my eyes
Into the sleeping fiend
That sprawls leisurely
On my corrupted slumber
Black lily of sapid destruction,
I apologize for your withering
For I have brought upon this ruin
But in the harangue of consciousness
You are a white lily to me
Bedazzling of niceties to the cusp
Most would find you burn
In pertinacious red
And paint your vision
In the mediocre sense
Of beauty and of love
For we are all judged
In their jagged vision
And our own overweening coercion
Now, I seek for recuperation
And I would shun you
Your beautiful picture
That summons treacherous feelings
In a clear picturesque
Of a demise cloyed
In my dreadful smile
I will picture you, inexorably,
In the far off distance–
Inches between our elbows
As you jot down your mind
In lazy pacing clouds
Of nonsensical, one-sided
Windows of discussions
As you burst or bloom
In their stares or in a mirror
Until once again,
I could spew another promise
Until once again,
I could be a sanguine friend
Until once again,
You won’t be the echo of everything.