Amongst The Lonely Souls! Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Astute hands that fathom only one side
Of the jagged pinnacle where all the shadows hide
In vain, with eyes set forth upon disdain,
How I wish to become one with the rain
And so soon, in the early cinematic sunrise,
Almost as comical as a shrewd rat’s quaint demise,
I surmise that dreams implode when one lucid funeral
Is held inside the walls of a heart with vivid intervals

In my bed of screaming bayonets
I celebrate the mundane like eating sonnets
And lurching like a nightmarish, foolhardy prisoner
In a sleeper cell of a fastidious summer
Oh, how finicky, I am in the arms of another
And how resolute the picture of absolution, the somber
With one rueful look at the mirror,
I appeal to the night, the abyss and languor

One dislocated bone in my sleep,
And immensely profound memories of a wound so deep,
That the light that beckons from the ephemeral day
Shall eviscerate and once again spring a bloody fray
Of tormenting memories and days of clear reason,
That as muses are truant, hearts commit treason
There is no sanctuary here, in the arms of a lover
But there is comfort here, in the brazen slumber

The Sun confesses qualms, the Moon chokes in a quandary
And I, among the celestial bodies, fold in misery
My prayers are left unanswered, like forests muted by wildfire
I move like light, in this sepulchral prance upon fields of quagmire
And so as the flowers pry and the birds sing an etude,
I will forever be calloused and scathed since the vicissitude
No, not of a reckless abandon brought upon by a thieving lover
But one, fortuitous conclusion that I am alone, said a lonely kibitzer

But look at the fanciful people, I said
Weather forecasts and tomblike hallowed grim hang upon my head
All the others have gone astray, divinely
In interlocking arms and twining roads auspiciously
I am left with all the foliage and ridiculous frolic, I am a misfit!
But then, I shall wager everything again, a farce gambit
So as to come to an acquaintance of a day in losing,
Luck did not turn arbitrarily, decadence is sloshing

Soon, the berth of my repose in one subtle moment
Of bizarre twists of fate and lewd judgments,
I will find my resting place, a place of redolent, plush dreams
Whereas, I hover one lull cloud after another across the moon beams
And there, maybe, just maybe, there will be someone out there
Waiting for me, patiently, like me, an amorous wanderer
And we will converse about how we traversed the prickly frost
Of desolation and betrayal, and soon the encumbrance will be lost!

But then again, this is wishful thinking,
I am at the brink of the obliteration of the silver moon lining
And once again, the Sun will be heralded by one, faint spark
Of sunlight, followed by scornful mockery of the lark
That flies by day and sleeps at night on my shoulder,
My shoulder of arid terrain and sullen borders
Festered by troubles that transformed into beastly creatures
Awaiting: no hope today, apologetic past, and moribund future

There is no hope left, I am an empty chasm
My feet are calloused and my hands are defamed by spasms
I am as chagrined as a grotesque chariot of frosted grin
No potent substance can restore my faith; weak and faltering
Alas, the cards have been dealt with by crass eyes
Fate, love, hope, religion, science and demise
I can never choose my death, and never execute my verve
If I am as servile as a servant should be, then whom shall I serve?

You tell me, omnipotence, bright with light
Are you just one, null hope? Blinded starlight?
I hope and pray that you are not, and I believe ardently,
That you have set me into this forlornness resolutely
The accolade awaits me, in one ethereal plane
A plane that let out zilch cares whether I am sick or sane!
But for now, I shall inherit this misfortune unscathed
Because I am, amongst all the lonely souls, fated.