.
Piano, piano! Silencio!
Don’t make a sound,
Be featherbound,
In magnum existencio,
Soundless and fair
As light as air
Mind full of stars,
Grand images
Of peace and wars,
How rich is poor;
Open the door,
Break the hinges.
.
“Another one of those damn experiments of his!”
.
We are straw puppets dancing in a fire,
We are marionnettes chanting on a wire,
Round and round we go, in frenzied flashes,
Mind and heart at war, a thousand clashes,
Icarus of the heart, rising so high,
Sisyphean fools of the kind that try,
Until we burn our wings, until we tire,
Building and, with our hand, lighting the pyre
On which we repose and evermore lie
Disappearing with the faintest sigh
Into the deep night, small pile of ashes;
The flames have consumed our deepest gashes.
.
A funeral for the living.
.
Long ago lived this fox – wild – which I tried to tame,
Its heart was is a box deep behind walls of shame,
It felt vulnerable with very few loose threads,
And yet more than able to turn so many heads,
I tried hard to become its friend, its companion,
But could not overcome the width of this canyon
That it had dug so deep and baleful between us,
Days grew into months and months into years
And I feared this story would forever be thus
Though I never gave up or gave in to my fears,
Then on a rainy noon a miracle happened,
We but shared a small cup next to a warm fireplace,
It was a simple drink however, it deepened
The bond we had woven out of this breath-thin lace,
To this day I know not whatever made it change
Its ways, its trust but home came suddenly in range;
Now the door was open even if just a tad
And the uninviting, time-ragged stone threshold
That, since the beginning, had always seemed so sad
Filled with colorful lights the air that once was cold.
.
Fiends are but friends that never are.
.
Du bout des doigts je la caresse
Mais je ne sais me décider,
Je ne sais si c’est par paresse,
Si mon courage est oxydé,
Ou si je crains ma maladresse…
Je me sens bien trop évidé,
Affaibli par la sécheresse
De mon cœur et de ses idées;
Peut-être faut-il que je laisse
L’énigme non-élucidée?
Que je cède à cette faiblesse
En acceptant l’âme ridée,
Elle dont la grande détresse
Vient aigrement consolider
La haute et sombre forteresse
De ma verve dilapidée?
Ou encor que tout cela cesse
Et que je me laisse guider
Par le doux encens de grand messe
Qu’émane de cette orchidée…
.
Compter fleurette.
.
I am not doing my best
Nor putting my abilities to the test
I am gently cruising by
Living life as simply as a sigh.
.
A little meta never hurt nobody.
EDIT 27/11/2017: changed first ‘simply’ to ‘gently’
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In and of itself, in the simplest terms,
Life is but a shelf on which we take turns,
How we have rusted away and faded,
Vessel not trusted with its mind jaded,
Escape while you can, fly, oh fly young fool!
Years of your lifespan flee before you, cruel…
Once you realize it is far too late
Under the disguise lies the true template.
.
I have one but let yourself have yours.
.
J’erre et je cherche, sans but autre que mon but : trouver.
Je ne sais où il se cache, je ne sais ou le chercher,
Tout les éclis virevoltent sous la hache
Qui prépare l’immense bûcher.
Mon cœur sait où elle se cache
Mais à jamais je ne peux qu’en rêver.
Il faut continuer à avancer, à tourner en rond,
Il faut continuer à chanter, à sourire et à rire sous
Le masque de mes pensées, de mes envies, de mes espoirs,
Je ne sais que vous dire,
Je ne sais que penser,
Pour moi le mystérieux élixir
Ne sert qu’à faire danser
Les imbéciles et les sots, les oublieux et les fous,
Et pourtant je m’élance et pirouette dans le vent
Mon esprit aussi fébrile que volatile
Alors que mon cœur va de battement en battement
Éclipsant même le plus sourd de ses grondements
A la recherche de cet El Dorado, cet Atlantis
Qu’un royaume d’araignées et de Maures tisse
M’emprisonnant.
Je n’ai jamais été aussi libre, aussi vivant,
Alors pourquoi sens-je ces chaînes à mes pieds ?
Que ne voudrais-je aller de l’avant,
M’offrirait-on une aventure qui me sied ?
Je ne demande ni ne supplie,
Marchant sous le Soleil et les étoiles,
Seul mais pas solitaire, toujours vers l’horizon,
La Terre comme mère et de paire avec la Lune,
Et lorsque je me perds je recherche la mer
Du haut de la plus haute dune
Elle seule fait taire de son goût sel amer
Le souffle de mon âme qui mugît de douleur
Sous les coups de la lame aux mille-et-une couleurs.
Cette quête éternelle s’achèvera un jour
Lorsque les doux pétales
Du rosier blanc de neige
Toucheront le sol et quitteront l’air…
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Assignement: Ars Poetica
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When I will be old, in my neighborhood
There will come a car with Time at its wheel
It shall maybe slow down but never stop for good
And as it drives by I will stare boldly,
No matter what I think, no matter what I feel
Because it will pass and never remain.
His hair neatly combed as he smiles coldly,
An immortal king looking upon its domain,
Immoral being, eternal seductor,
And when the rumble of the engine subsides,
When comes the final wave of this conductor,
Not even the moon shall command the tides
But I will stand there, in my neighborhood,
Where all my ancestors before me proudly stood.
.
“Write an untruth about yourself.”
.
Once the mirror reflected
A sight not unkind to me
But my own mind deflected
The years as an enemy,
My soul did no speak the same
Tongue that my body practised,
No one else had yet noticed
But it brought on worlds of shame,
I could feel that I would drown
In this heavy bleeding gown
So became a smile my frown
As I shifted upside down.
.
Poetry with a secret: “I have had plastic surgery done.”
Not sure if I’m completely satisfied of that one.
.
D’abord il croit un rêve
Quand un doux vent se lève
Au dessus de la grève,
– La folie et sa sève –
Pourtant doute s’achève
Et bientôt le noir glaive
S’éfface et disparait
Au travers du velour
Si vieux pourtant si rouge :
Un voilier reparaît;
Le coeur en est moins lourd
Et l’espoir en corps bouge.
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Référence, référence, quand tu nous tiens.
Tales of Ore 