Endless Party

Always the same, too much of a party,
in the end it always ends the same.
Lots of partygoers, and me there alone,
what's the point of going to parties.
Why do they invite me,
too much of a party,
for nothing,
in the end alone,
on the edge,
with a drink.
A ******,
very strange,
at a party.
Patent leather
shoes,
bow tie,
velvet.
So much dressing up,
to be alone,
I feel withdrawn,
a misogynist at the zoo.
I always say, I won't go back,
but in the end, I always do.
Following my footsteps, and again,
I fall, disguised as elegant,
the most chic at the party,
the one everyone looks at,
and no one talks to,
I shun them.
On the edge,
of a drink,
thousands looked at,
and everyone talks,
and you know it doesn't matter.
Disconnected from everyone,
a stranger, inaccessible.
Always well-dressed,
a nice velvet
jacket,
tailored,
tuxedo,
silk
shirts.
A thousand ways,
to go in gala,
to dress elegantly,
to dress up, for nothing,
always the same, misanthrope,
anti-social in a tuxedo, incommunicado,
who dances among everyone and always pretends,
in a foreign fishbowl, a bear out of place, not knowing,
not knowing how to behave and be one of them.
In a transparent bubble,
too shy,
to live.
Unsociable,
in society,
a life disaster.
Without social skills,
on the edge of his drink, he just watches,
from the corner of his eye everyone looks at him,
and no one knows,
what a bear
is doing,
in a fishbowl.
Alone among so many,
loneliness in a crowd,
and at the end of the party alone,
I leave as lonely as I arrived.

The Poem

"Life is the true poem"

July 18, 2025.

A gaze from the sixth sense,
to seek that poem, "The Poem."
That poem that is always there,
to dive into life searching.
Where life is the only poem,
that poem that holds everything.
Where everything is, to see,
to feel, that it unveils itself,
in pieces for life.
In pieces searching,
for that ideal poem.
Reflections of life,
that are just,
there in everything.
Unfurled,
pieces,
parts,
souls,
poet.
In that,
which is,
something,
more.
You,
and
...

Through clouds I travel, through the firmament,
comfortable in my seat,
in the sky.
In the air,
for a few hours,
from one point to another.
While I sleep a while,
and soon in another magical place.
From one world to another,
among suitcases,
and finally,
the destination,
yet another place.
Through turbulence,
across distant borders,
in another world,
to the destination.

July 16, 2025

In A Corner
Utterly mine, in the deep silence,
in a house of purest white,
On the cusp of a morning,
with my soul utterly serene.
In the garden of the soul,
among the butterflies,
softly fluttering,
gently whispering,
poems,
within me.
For me,
sighs,
tranquil and hushed,
from that weary breath,
that still persists,
whispering poems,
even as I drown,
in this life that is not mine.
While I await my flight,
to soar from my corner to another place.
That distant realm where the soul takes wing,
where peace knows no end,
where living no longer burdens,
where I shall never tire,
where all is beautiful,
on the very wings of God,
in my own place,
so far away.
Meanwhile,
time softly slips by,
and I still gaze out,
from this beautiful corner,
of a soul that has grown weary of living.

EN UN RINCON

Muy mío, en el silencio,

en una casa blanca pura,

Al borde de una mañana,

con mi alma sosegada.

En el jardín del alma,

entre mariposas,

revoloteando,

susurrando,

poemas,

en mí.

Para mí,

suspiros,

tranquilos,

de ese respirar,

cansado, que sigue,

susurrando poemas,

a pesar de ahogarme,

en esa vida que no es mía.

Mientras espero despegar,

y volar de mi rincón a otro lado.

Ese sitio lejano donde el alma vuela,

donde la paz nunca se acaba,

donde ya no cuesta vivir,

donde ya no me canse,

donde todo es bello,

en las alas de Dios,

en mi lugar,

lejano.

Mientras,

pasa el tiempo,

y yo me asomo aún,

en ese rincón tan hermoso,

de un alma que se cansa de vivir.

Wounded bird,
broken wings,
I cannot,
I no longer know
how to rise.
A shattered dream.

Poor bird,
flightless,
a failure.
Dreams
in a nosedive,
into harsh reality.
Shattered,
crashed
plumage.

All broken,
I dreamed of flight,
and couldn't.
My body
is heavy.
I plunged,
I fell from grace;
I no longer know how to fly.

So much dreaming,
only to land
unwillingly.
And my dreams
have flown away.
I moved my hands,
and saw reality:
I was no angel.

I was no longer a child,
and everything hurt.
I wanted to be better,
but I'm not;
I corrupted myself.
And I was just me,
a poor soul
who flapped
in my dreams,
a loser
in my life,
only disaster.

Consumed
beyond remedy,
I reached the end,
landed on earth,
dreams undone.
Neither angel, nor good,
nor child, just an old man
who never learned to fly.
Hope took flight.

Carlos Alberto Bustillos López
Copyleft

Who Are You?

I want to scream, LOUDLY,
be strong, and what does it matter, what anyone says,
What does it matter what we can say, KEEP GOING,
KEEP GOING on your path, and whatever is meant to come,
let what is meant to come, come, BUT COME TO ME.
I am your pirate, you are my sorceress,
but come to me, if you wish,
and let whatever is meant to be, be, say no more,
JUST KEEP GOING, let your heart guide you, and live again.
Don’t cry for what wasn’t, and follow your path wherever it leads you.
And if you have to SCREAM, SCREAM, let your SOUL SCREAM,
and what others say, what does it matter, if your heart is a bird.
That heart that beats with every pulse,
that pulse that smells of life’s aroma, and whatever is, let it be.
And if they ask you, who are you?, don’t answer,
just stop thinking about what others think,
and let your bird keep going, caged in your chest, beating.
Let everything be as you wish,
I will scream your name in the sky, girl.
That girl, who hasn’t aged, in a long time.
And let your soul do pirouettes and let them talk,
And don’t stop thinking about everything that is to come,
and put flowers in your life, let the aroma of life flow,
and let what is meant to be, be.
And stop being the other one,
that other one, that isn’t you.
And if they ask you, who are you?
What does it matter what they think, you are just you,
and every day you look for that path to be yourself.
Let’s not look for answers to unanswerable questions,
and just see that only you are the most important thing in your life,
and if life went awry, it will straighten out.
Just think that every day we are different, ever-changing,
that we can’t bathe twice in the same river waters.
And every day doesn’t have answers for everything,
let’s not pretend to be what we are not.
And if you ask yourself, who are you? Everything changes every day,
every day we are new, in this life that carries us and takes us away.
Girl, don't think so much about others and start thinking about being what you seek,
that girl who is a thousand different ways as the years go by.
And if you ask yourself, what does it matter
tomorrow, who knows,
if you will be another.
And despite everything,
always,
you are you,
Whatever happens,
you will continue to be another,
even if you change every day.
The same ever-changing one is you.
Keep being yourself on your path,
along the path, always you,
even if everything changes,
always you, my girl.
My golden woman,
in the sunset.
JUST YOU
MY GIRL!

A Romantic Story

Between brushes, between birds,
life unfolds.
In a place far from everyone's sight.
Among poems of the sea,
on solid ground.
Life,
that life,
that goes away,
in the heat,
of August.
In the summer,
in the sun's heat,
he has a life,
a secret life,
that no one
imagines.
The world,
between walls,
is the life of that man,
a failed,
rich man,
immaterial,
he has everything,
of everything,
and of nothing.
He asks for no more,
with his animals,
that's enough for him, with a walk,
down winding paths.
So much work to be nothing,
getting poorer and happier,
he consumes yesterday's wealth,
happy with the little road left to travel.
A romantic life of love and flowers,
where life is a pure dream,
among delicate poems,
a sublime life,
in misery.
In the end he goes,
the door,
closed,
and no one
felt it.
A failure,
a romantic life,
a dreamer,
now far from everyone,
and finally he flew, without suffering,
to a better place still.
And he never returned,
the sweet dream
of death.
A dead poet,
who wasn't even a poet,
nor lived reality.
And the walls,
closed,
and no one,
returned,
there.

IN THE TWILIGHT

Submerged in the night, wrapped in dreams,
among the August stars, floating,
while hearts beat.
In the warmth of peacefulness,
among the nectars.
Looking out,
amazed to be alive,
always a different night.
Gliding through life in a heartbeat,
in the magic of twilight, in peacefulness.
Forgetting the day to day, rocked by the suns of the night.
Among words that disintegrate into kisses,
among verses of the soul that accompany,
among hugs of happiness,
in the miracle of blooming,
that love for life.
Caresses of love,
among verses,
for you,
peace,
and love,
in verses,
that whisper,
the best for all.


----

EN EL ANOCHECER

Sumergidos en la noche, envueltos en sueños, 
entre las estrellas de agosto, flotando, 
mientras los corazones laten.
En el calor de la placidez, 
entre los néctares.
Asomados, 
asombrados de vivir, 
una noche distinta siempre.
Deslizando la vida en el palpitar, 
en el embrujo del anochecer, en placidez. 
Olvidando el día a día, mecidos por los soles de la noche. 
Entre palabras que se desintegran en besos, 
entre versos del alma que acompañan,
entre abrazos de  la felicidad, 
en el milagro de florecer, 
ese amor a la vida.
Caricias de amor, 
entre versos, 
para ti,
paz, 
y amor,
en versos. 
que susurran,
lo mejor para todos.

16  -VIII- 2025

STRANGELY

Unusual freedom, between walls, between wires,
illuminating poems from a strange mind.
In the joy of navigating thoughts,
without fears, without fears of anything, between walls.
Among thorns, in the free air of the stars,
among brambles, in the disorder, the chaos of living.
No rules for composing, in indifference,
in one's own norms to achieve freedom.
Strange mind in unknown territories.
In the tireless search to reach something more,
that something in the prison of living, in my freedom.
Without fear of the precipice, of my infinite abyss,
at the trigger of the final days of everything.
Between words that are born and remade within me,
in thoughts that fly free on waves.
Like a wingless bird with the miracle of flying,
in the tireless rhythm of beating in the worlds,
those worlds of my own in the world of others.
Strange life, after returning to the protected reality,
wrapped in cotton, with thorns and barbs on the fence.
Walking in the dazzling sun of the world,
anywhere and at any moment, soaring,
among flashes and sparks of being reborn each day.

Explosion

Explosion
The world explodes,
new, frightful times.
Organized collective madness, engineering,
new windows, walking to nowhere.
Reset, restarts, power groups,
everyone is expendable, they say.
A planet,
a world that isn't worth it,
that's too little for a few.
It's the world of insane agendas,
without humanity, headed for total detonation.
Globalizing wars,
they are wars of all against all,
mankind walking toward destruction.
Evil spreads and stains everything,
international evil,
wars.
The Great War,
battle against man.
False lies that fill everything,
evil disguised as good.
Explosion in chains.
Slaves of evil,
final revelation,
human gods,
walking into madness.
Explosion of global evil.


----
EXPLOSION

Explosión.
Explota el mundo, 
nuevos tiempos, pavorosos.
Locura colectiva organizada, ingeniería, 
nuevas ventanas, caminando a  ninguna parte.
Reseteo, reinicios, grupos de poder, 
todos sobran, dicen.
Un planeta, 
un mundo que no vale, 
que es poco para unos pocos.
Es el mundo de las agendas de locos, 
sin humanidad, camino al disparadero total.
Globalizando las guerras, 
Son guerras de todos contra todos, 
Caminando  el hombre a la destrucción.
El mal se extiende y mancha todo,
mal internacional,
guerras.
La Gran Guerra, 
batalla contra el  hombre.
Falsas mentiras que llenan todo, 
el mal disfrazado de bondad.
Explosión en cadenas.
Esclavos del mal, 
revelación final,
dioses humanos, 
caminando a la locura.
Explosión de la maldad global.


----
17 - VIII - 2025

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