The Decree Of Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Rancid thoughts,
Chiming, with the head of a chimera
Resolute pictures in the vista, springing
Rousing the lines of heavy blood taints

It is in the wake of
The ambivalent weather have I first,
Wrote with my clenched fists and shunned eyes
The most insipid of all the lies in lines

Pure and chaste little fingers,
And pale nailbeds like cemeteries
They desire for the pen and paper,
Of which I shall render myself naked and vulnerable

Trampling long enough - Have I found, my greatest wife
Or perhaps, the acute life of an inverted terrain
In the motherly bosom of literature and pain,
That speaks clearly, reverberating in the grotesque chasm

In these words of trivial appearance,
And by the mere solstice of chance
Have I found my asylum, amid the searing and pommeling
Inside the crevasses of literature.