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05-20-13

Poem by: Stephen Betancourt

By Stephen BetancourtPublished 8 months ago 2 min read
Poem: 05-20-13

Those moments—philosopher wind—

cut deep like silence shattering reason.

And swiftly, in its agony,

it sketches the constant pain of my breath,

wrapping nostalgia around all that fled my mind.

Time fades.

And every event, a genesis—

I cannot see clearly if each step I’ve taken

was placed upon your path.

There is no end

for this world so parched.

Where is it drowned—

the silence of breath?

Perhaps I am asleep,

but not behind the light that once bore my apologies—

rather beneath that immense stone cross.

Perhaps I am dead

in a world of darkness—

and I find pleasure in the lament.

That stellar crystal—

the divine blue of your gaze—

breaks the weekly monotony,

shatters the bishop’s sermon

as it vanishes into the emptiness

of a hollow skull.

It softens the calm,

the murky, muted gaze

that speaks louder than forbidden words—

the constant threat

against its own lies.

And a diamond perfumes the day

with the same old lines from the Bible.

Reason returns to resound,

ignites again that oily mindset

that slips from judgment,

that falls from pain—

digging into our wounds,

our lives,

our love.

05 -20 -13

Pues esos momentos

de filósofo viento

hiere como el silencio

que fragmenta razones.

Y deprisa en su agonía

describe aquel dolor constante

de mi aliento,

envuelve en mí nostalgia

todo lo que escapó de mi cerebro.

Se desvanece el tiempo

y cada evento enmarca un comienzo,

no puedo ver claro

si cada paso que he dado

lo he puesto en tu sendero,

no existe un final

para este mundo tan reseco.

¿dónde está sumergido el silencio de aliento?

Estaré quizás dormido,

mas no tras la luz que hiciera mis disculpas

sino bajo la cruz inmensa

hecha de piedra, estaré quizás muerto

en el mundo oscuro me gustan los lamentos.

Ese cristal estelar,

el azul divino de tu mirar

separa la cotidianidad semanal,

ese sermón obispal

que se pierde en el vacío

de un cráneo desprovisto;

suaviza la calma,

la turbia mirada enmudecida

que alcanza más

que las palabras restringidas,

la constante amenaza

contra sus propias mentiras

y un diamante que perfuma el día

con las mismas frases de la biblia,

la razón vuelve a resonar

en cada rincón,

vuelve a encender

aquella mentalidad aceitosa

que resbala del juicio,

se cae del dolor,

hurgando en sus heridas

nuestras vidas y su amor.

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Stephen Betancourt

poems have different melodies, which shapes their theme; they are meant to be read soft or in a strong voice but also as the reader please. SB will give poetry with endless themes just to soothe and warm the heart.

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