Children Of Distraught Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

The calibre of your mouth
Likened to that of the gun carried
By a maniacal man appeared to be a
Stable apprehension of what tongues, shrewd and quaint
Violent and faint in the cold palette of bland colours
Should be, in the time of aeroplanes
Walking, lunging across clouds and
Birds that chirp among the buoyant dreams
Suspended within the clouds.

So I should say,
In the days that I recoil from every bullet
That your tongue propels and the blundering velocity
With the wind, it carries obnoxious judgment
And a surreal promise that you can never
Trample light with hands as heavy as a heart
That you sleep with, in the night you feign
To be the day where the macabre of the crow
Signs a resignation with fluid, flimsy hands.

Turgid as a blade used for quelling,
Stifling through throats with hoarse cries
And guttural singsongy nostalgia of waves
Crashing by the stream of twined legs and hands
Melting underneath the phosphorescent sand,
Sands of time, the grime and glum of one, fated little child
Sullied by the mirth of one faint frown,
And the sordid moonlight eclipsing across one’s chagrined smile

Is there a prophylaxis for being alone,
For desolation is an affliction well interspersed with
Deprivation of fate’s wintry judgment and human nature’s
Reckless abandon, stacking hearts among shelves,

Bludgeoning minds with scarce, offensive memories
During the wee hours of the night where I writhe,
Where he tosses and turns, where she eats and then churns
In the navel of a beguiling, obscured forest of eyes that beckon
The vision that cannot penetrate through somber veneer of sublime fear

And so this alone, like a gun, or a blade
Rusting, slumbering inside a cold, desolate scabbard
Intact beside one’s waist, hoisted far enough inches across
One’s scraggy bone, I will tell you this, and you alone
Shall inherit what the others felt in the opulent time of your one true mirth
That once we all weep, the children of soliloquy
Our transgressors, our trespassers, the ones who left and betrayed us
The ones who marred us with scars of infinite depth and pain
Will suffer the pain, million times greater than our amaranthine river of tears

Fold your hands in prayer, and say your words
Because once and for all, the children of soliloquy
Have so much more in store for the next of kin,
Enthroned to a seat of thorns among emeralds and burning ember
Watch, the memories will quell, the twinges will thwart
What zest you have for life, and you will wish for one more rejuvenation
Alas, it is too late, bollixed with your peccadilloes
We do not have the elixir for your heart’s woes
I beg your pardon, with an apologetic requiem prepared for you.