Muteness. Poem by Tom Billsborough

Muteness.



To the abattoir send your useless words,
Insatiable forms, boneless fruits,
Voids decorated with illusions,
Hides inflated with mist.
May muteness descend into the pit of your tongue,
May the taste of eternity grant you peace of mind,
That the cross on which you nail definitions
Crumble to dust.
Only then, like a saint's sculpture
Polished by kisses of believers,
You mouth can pour words comparable to suns.
They will not be yours, born of a humble throat.
They will have letters, sounds, shapes,
But this time fertile with a pregnancy
That bursts into chanting,
Cathedrals of perpetual growth, gigantic
Dictionaries peopled countless times
By a solitary ‘thanks'.

Sunday, May 7, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: philosophy
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
The above is a translation of a poem by Alejandro Jodorowski by Rod Mendieta and myself. The Spanish Text is below

Mudez - Poem by Alejandro Jodorowsky
Envía al matadero tus palabras inútiles: formas insaciables,
Frutos sin cuesco, vacíos ornados de ilusiones, pellejos
Inflados de bruma.
Que la mudez descienda en el pozo de tu lengua, que el sabor
De la eternidad conceda paz a tu mente, que la cruz en
La que clavas las definiciones se haga polvo.
Solo entonces, como escultura de santo pulida por besos
De creyentes, tu boca podrá verter palabras comparables a soles.
No serán tuyas, las gestara una garganta humilde.
Tendrán letras, sonidos, formas, pero esta vez fértiles, preñez
Que estalla en cantos, catedrales de crecimiento perpetuo,
Gigantescos diccionarios poblados innumerables veces de
Un solitario 'gracias'.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
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Tom Billsborough

Tom Billsborough

Preston Lancashire England
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