Poetry by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal
West Covina, CA
The
Defeated One
Battle wearied,
sleepless days and
nights, the handless
clock keeps my time.
What do I owe
the rising sun?
Not endless sleep,
or hour of peace.
My dust will find
its rest. Threaded
with stars, the sky
above my grave,
on my headstone
will be inscribed,
the defeated
one, rests at last.
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Poetry by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal
West Covina, CA
The
Voices Speak
In secret they speak,
in the dark,
in the day,
I hear them.
Nine times out ten,
their voices
do not take a breath.
I hear them,
the untouchable.
No one is safe.
Fresh air, free thought,
no more; such sadness.
The voices speak
in the dark.
They awaken me.
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Poetry by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal
West Covina, CA
Do you cry
until you break?
Do you sing
the saddest song?
Do you scream
from your soul’s depth?
Does absence
fill your heart? I
did all these
things tonight.
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