David Bettencourt is a poet, songwriter, and son of Appalachia, raised in Blount County, Alabama, with family lines running deep through the coal country of Walker County and the mountain ridges of western North Carolina and Tennessee. His work carries the weight of that inheritance — the hymns, the hollers, the hard truths — filtered through a life that has taken him far beyond it.


How Do You Hold This

 

Out of the Depths

Before he ever stepped onto a stage or published a line, David was a seminarian. Later, he became a civil rights lawyer. Now he writes from the borderland between the South that shaped him and the lessons learned in leaving it behind. His first two poetry collections, Late Unpleasantness and Commedia Erudita, are forthcoming from Scientists & Poets.

As a songwriter, David blends fiery Southern heartache with spirit‑haunted dream imagery. His songs rise, break, and refuse to settle — music for anyone who still feels far from home. Rob of The INDIE Musician Hub says: “His writing hits with the weight of lived truth — it’s Southern, it’s spiritual, and it cuts clean.”

 

 

By foot or oxcart,
Today's journey
Cost the farmers half a week

But on the high deck of the commuter train
I glide for just an hour,

Easy, inoculated,
My casual shoulder braced by a broad
Sheet of clean glass
We pass through a wood

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sun flashes through
The racing trees
Like a searchlight through
An industrial fan kept

Idling slow, before the day's heat

It cannot be wrong, not today,
To suggest exultation
In the language of machines

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the fine judgments
Of men and women behind microscopes,

Table-makers,
Number-diviners,
Made this ticket
Worth its purchase

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

David writes like someone who’s lived every mile of it — Southern fire, sharp truth, no pretending. You feel the weight and the wonder in every line.

-Rob | The INDIE Musician

 

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