Archive for the Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal Category

Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

Posted in Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal with tags on June 16, 2022 by Scot



Invisible Wings

Time will spread its invisible wings
and slap them hard across your face.
We will not feel anything but
tomorrow we will feel ancient.

We are heading toward the future.
It is what I hear many people say.
Our minds will slip into darkness.
Soon we will be reeking in a grave.

Time will fly past on bloodied wings.
The splintered rivers will fill
with our tears. We are absolutely
helpless in time’s game of chess.

Hold the one you love with all your
might. Poverty is around the corner.
Time is not a bird with lovely wings.
It comes to age you as you dream.

Two Poems by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

Posted in Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal with tags on December 4, 2018 by Scot

What I Dream About

My visions are for me to keep.
You do not have permission
to ask me about what I see
or about what I dream about.

Do I look like I have schizophrenia?
I can do anything you can do
and probably better. I can work.
I block out what the voices say.

I am going to miss out on going
to the beach again this summer
by being in this place. I don’t know
why they do not take my word

over the word of people that have
sent me here. If I had a piece, I
don’t think I could kill myself or
anyone else. I say things sometimes

that I do not really mean. I do things
that I do not really mean to do.
The time I took all those pills to kill
myself was just my gift to those

that I hurt over the years. I did not
want them worrying about me.
I feel sad in the hospital. I should
not have been brought back to life.

I like the medicine despite what
others say that I do not like them.
They help me sleep and dream.
Please do not ask me questions

about what I dream about. Those
questions are too personal. If you
want to help me, tell the doctor
to look into his heart and let me go.



The Night Winds

It swirls around and around,
the night winds, words from
nature. How I would die to know
what it says? It is madness
seeing it swirling around and
having fun at my expense. The
nights winds howl and cackle,
galloping like a headless horse
at the witching hour. I want to
swirl like the wind and argue with
it. I need to stand up for myself.