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Poems By Poet Richard Betts  1/29/2015 8:35:56 PM
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  RICHARD BETTS (December 8,1964)
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Borders and bridges and battleships,
The lies that slip from your slithering lips.

The color that taints your suffering and sorrow.
The smile you steal and the laughter you borrow.

The escape you make from the sadness that seeks you.
The vows you break and the loneliness that meets you.

The love you have that falls broken and unanswered.
The sickness I feel from your small talk and banter.

The daring it takes to face the darkness before dawn.
The pathetic way you use people as pawns.

The strength I feel and the weakness you display,
When you lurk in the shadows and live life in the gray.
Richard Betts




How did I manage to make it?
How did I somehow survive?
I look at the others who perished,
And I ask myself, 'Why? '

Why was I so fortunate?
Why not me instead of them?
I often see their faces,
A silent roll call of our dead.

Nighttime is the hardest,
For my slumber is less than kind.
And carrying around these questions,
Weighs heavily on my mind.

Sleep comes hard, but when I sleep,
I always dream in red.
And lying there in the fields,
Are the scattered bodies of my friends.

When I walk by any garden,
All the flowers seem to wilt,
As if they are being crushed
By the weight of all my guilt.
Richard Betts




It seems the more I seek,
The less I find.
The more I search,
The more you hide.

The more I question,
The less I understand.
The more I reach out,
The less I find your hand.

The more I read the writings,
The more I am bemused.
The more I hear the preaching,
The more I am confused.

The more I look for light,
The harder to find the sun.
The more I look for goodness,
The darker the skies become.

The more I look your way,
The more frightening is the violence.
The louder I scream,
The more maddening is your silence.
Richard Betts




We blindfold you,
so you know not what we do.

So you cannot see
how we distort and bludgeon the truth.

I know why Justice is blind,
And why she has no rebuke.

For if she could see
all we do and say, she would turn around...

and puke.
Richard Betts
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Poems By Poet Richard Betts