Alexandro Johns


Latin America - Poem by Alexandro Johns

The water of the fountains
is the same
as the tragic and comical memory
of goths and pirates.

Every rights and duties
are transitory since then,
there are so many great charters
but none of them remain,
king John of England
left no offsprint
in the cross of these lands.

Sometimes,
at the bottom of the years,
like a clear in the jungle
or a tunnel on the sky,
we can glimpse a flash,
and for moments
it seems the entrance
or the exit
of a landscape by Rousseau,
but no,
they are deceitful lighthouses,
the vulgar comedy
of illiterates Machiavellis
that threaten us
with the speech of crazy buffoons
or a ticket to die.

A drink of sun,
a dinner with sequins,
the beach,
women in her hips,
they should release me
from those visions
that like real nets
they don't let me live
nor even cover my eyes.

Topic(s) of this poem: thought

Form: Free Verse


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, November 19, 2015



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