Shadows and Darkness
I trace life with a poem. If I die, my poem will live on. The shadows will recite it. Darkness will commit it to memory. Swallow Your Mirror Swallow your mirror. Digest your vanity. You can do it. Let it enter and exit and flush it down the sewers of darkness and rats. Somewhere it will sparkle, the vanity of your own making. Let the crystals shine, the shattered pieces all around. Who has been down there? Will anyone find all that remains of your mirror, of your vain face, and who will care? In the sewers where the dream fades, where blood and glass flows. Who knows? Are birds there too, with lost songs that drives one to tears? There is no light. Crazily, the deeper you go down the sewer, symbols are everywhere. Suddenly, a road appears in the shadow, and it must be a wrong road. Vanity stops and asks if it is alright to die. When it is no more, when it stops, you can hear the lost songs of sickly birds. The sewer ends here with the lost songs. You taste the blood. The mirror repairs itself and you see the vanity fade. The eyes are open, not blind. After awhile, you exalt I am alive. The mirror becomes your best friend in life. Plant a Tree Be the mind that turns words to honey. Be the eyes that bring fire to the page. Make it sweet. Make it burn. Make it live. Do something never done. Take a risk. Or plant a tree that will outlive all the poems you wrote in your whole life. Precious Lives Street cat crosses my path Precious nine lives at risk Heat rising to one hundred Precious life needs a drink Kicks a can just for kicks Precious time ticking fast Bricks are dropping on the street Precious has no need for shame Wanna file a complaint? Wanna make a federal case? It won’t make it better Mean streets make mean cats Avenue fills up with cats Precious lives need saving View it from every street corner Precious days, precious nights Hip cats walk on by Precious time on their side Slip up and things will change Precious luck could go away Wanna file a complaint? Wanna make a federal case? It needs to get better Suck the poison and spit it out Way is the end of the street’s name Pavement is the cat’s bed Baby cat is out there too Night falls along with the rain Ethereal whispers fill the air Precious voices drowned out Imperial folks hoard their wealth Precious like Sméagol’s gold ring Stayed with the cat as it walked its precious life across the street Made a left on the way home Precious time ticking fast Off work on Friday makes me wanna go home and pass out Wanna file a complaint? It will not make things better Mean streets make mean cats Night in My Eyes Salt in my tears. Night in my eyes. Faucet with drips. Sea without waves. Cautiously, I walk like the blind. I settle in my grave, alive. Bio: Born in Mexico, Luis lives in California and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. His poetry has appeared in Blue Collar Review, Crossroads, Mad Swirl, Unlikely Stories, and Yellow Mama Webzine. His latest poetry book, Make the Water Laugh, was published by Rogue Wolf Press. Poetry Showcase by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal : Grave Concerns
wow! This is an incredibly powerful poem! The beginning took me by surprise and the body of the poem led me on an intense journey from its content to its shape. Wow thank you for sharing!