Poem… nothing’s everything & everything’s nothing

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nothing’s everything & everything’s nothing

– Over two decades ago, I ran into a Spanish group’s music video. The group was Amistades Peligrosas and the video, me haces tanto bien. I liked it, recorded it, and enjoyed it every now and then. However, I didn’t give the group or the rest of their repertoire a second thought. I admit this was a grave error on my part. Recently, searching for other videos by other artists, several songs by Amistades Peligrosas were suggested; among these songs was me quedaré solo. I had never heard it before. I was fascinated and in a trance. The word and phrase that left me hypnotized were “pringao” and “caeré en picao.” The sounds… The contours of lips uttering them… I was fascinated, and I continue in my fascination. The power of words! To make a long story short, I’ll tell you that I researched the meaning and usage of these in Spain. Why? They were inspiring a poem. After many days of linguistic obsession, here it is… nothing’s everything & everything’s nothing. If you’d like a clearer and more exact understanding of what happened, please read the previous poetic entry. If you understand Spanish, you’ll get it. At least, I think so… Thank you, Amistades Peligrosas. –

nothing’s everything & everything’s nothing

–august 8, 2020–
springfield, ohio

by Luis S. González-Acevedo

i’m nothing’s everything
and everything’s nothing…
even so, you’ve loved me
despite what you can foresee
when my life runs scarce
and the universe whispers sour nothingness
i’ll glisten in that smile of yours, so rare
of lips dipped in molasses
when I am no longer, i tell you:
in my nothingness, i couldn’t be another’s fool
just the one without a clue
drowning in your whisky’s fuel
when my journey runs off course
what’s left
will sink in the abyss’ deepest cleft
and that very day… i’ll sharply fall without remorse
subtle sugar cane aromas
drench the contours of your tongue as you divine
this fool’s destiny and soon-to-come lacunas
drunk within your barrels of old whiskey & red wine

nothing’s everything & everything’s nothing will appear in a future book of poems & stories (release date | July 2021)–

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The Cemetery of Forgotten Books | by Carlos Ruiz Zafón


For those who have not yet found the universe of the Cemetery of Forgotten Books, I recommend that you look for it; and when you find it, enter its narrative geography. It’s a series of books without equal.
The Cemetery of Forgotten Books is composed of four books by Carlos Ruiz Zafón:
  • The Shadow of the Wind | La Sombra del Viento (2001)
  • The Angel’s Game | El Juego del Ángel (2008)
  • The Prisoner of Heaven | El Prisionero del Cielo (2011)
  • Labyrinth of the Spirits | El Laberinto de los Espíritus (2016)
I thank Carlos Ruiz Zafón for his creativity and profound ideas, imagery, narrative, and language.
I thank Carlos Ruiz Zafón for the inspiration that made me fall in love again with literature, the novels I have written –and possibly will write– and the universe I created in them, instead of the alternative: burning and destroying them forever –an unforgivable crime in Ruiz Zafón’s Cemetery of Forgotten Books.
With this new and humble enthusiasm, I will continue editing the novels I have written, rescued from the flames, for the sake of sharing them, simply sharing them.
With Eternal Gratitude,
Luis S. González Acevedo


Poema… barcelona y amor geográfico

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barcelona y amor geográfico

–28 de junio de 2019–
barcelona, cataluña, españa

por Luis S. González-Acevedo

ciudad de crema y olores
sabores y turrones,
mi dama catalana.
república o realeza de cataluña,
tal como a mi isla pequeña
te amaría si fueras mía, alma mediterránea.
sol que abrasas con lengua en llamas,
eres mar de besos
que corrientes africanas
me soplan desde lejos.

barcelona y amor geográfico será publicado en un libro de poemas e historias en julio 2020–


Poem… México-Tenochtitlan


(translation|modification of México-Tenochtitlan)

by Luis S. González-Acevedo

The night reigns.
The sun sleeps in the depths
of a blue mirror.
His eyes don’t see,
face-to-face, his own reflection.
A reflection that doesn’t lie
and dictates his essence, day after day.

In the countryside’s darkness,
running naked,
making way through the tropical flora,
desperate and anguished,
a green-eyed man projects himself,
owner of a transparent soul.
His hardened body falls
near a small pond.
His chest plummets into mud
and his face submerges into tropical waters.
Where is your strength?

~ ~ ~

Drops of dew kiss your emerald eyes.
They bring dreams and landscapes;
and even if you want to forget them,
your stained soul cannot.
Moctezuma, my father…
Who will tell your glory?

You were god and king
of the great Aztec Empire.
Gold: yours
Dominion: yours
Everything: yours
No one looked at your face.

How your countenance changed!
When your powerless informants
revealed the dreaded news
of gods marching
toward your throne:
Sitting on the Aztec throne,
you lowered your head without words,
without weeping, without tears
and hurled your mortal cry.

The beginning of agonies was that silent cry.
Not only did you lose the kingdom,
but your dignity as well.
You climbed to the top of your prison,
expecting to dominate an indomitable people.
Expecting a king, they saw a prisoner.
Once, you were their god;
but in the end, a poor and chained devil.
You broke the heart of a people.

Rejected by his people, Moctezuma died:
god, king and prisoner.

Cuauhtémoc, redeemer of the Aztec kingdom,
in your delirious struggle under the fire of arms
and shower of arrows,
seeing your people dead and injured,
you surrendered because your
México-Tenochtitlan no longer existed.

Cuauhtémoc suffered:
“I’ve done everything in my power
to defend my kingdom;
and my fortune has not been favorable.
Take my life; and with this,
you’ll bring the Mexican kingdom to an end.”

Don’t say to Cuauhtémoc:
“Don’t cry like a child
what you couldn’t defend like a man.”
He paid the price of freedom with his life.

~ ~ ~

The green-eyed man awakens,
lying on the ground.
The sun glares at his mortal face
from the blue mirror as he illuminates the world.
Rising to his feet,
he sees his blended soul
stained with red mud reflecting in the water;
and he understands the dream…
Black humans
Brown humans
Red humans
Yellow humans
White humans
Blended humans
Daughters & Sons of Cuauhtémoc
Heirs of paradise: México-Tenochtitlan

–You can find the poem in Caribbean Poet, by Luis S. González-Acevedo or the original version in Spanish in Poemas Caribeños, por Luis S. González-Acevedo–