Beyond Rhythm
My yesterday’s wound was healed by a crawling new morn
Spewing breath from mouth, luminescent like bird’s womb
Flapping its wings to let reasons prescribe to an Orphic sage
Of here and there, consecrating the rocks covered olive trees
Whence once rugged lips dated and kissed a gabby butterfly
Irking a wine bred nationalism in stone-washed Levi’s jeans
In a red clad noon
The Sapphic wind is sighing
Streets’ many voices
Craving for self perfection, this tutored stomach’s now liquid
Pushing me to a menagerie of nature’s call, where I perceive
You, a self-appointed god, who could easily master a tantrum
Like an eagerly bullet that could dig a well of proverbial pain
For you thought that I, a blooming stone, grabbed from yours
This life‘s link, sod with nothing but my tenacity, which feeds
A five decade muse
Tallying the evening stars
For consolation
Ah, a throbbing star is falling from the night sky to entertain
The other side of me, whose hearty sermon became anorexic
Serving obedience to unthawed mind; know that it’s not our
Intention, but a mere fate written in our palms to drink hope
In your two cents grail, painted with conniving wit of history
Your acerbic vision and cultured hatred is our daily patience
That’s not too phallic
In the harvesting season
Like pen and paper
Copyright © 2010 Ernesto Pangilinan Santiago
