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War

III

The field is wide and deserted,

Deadly silence looms high over,

Ten thousand bodies lie in dust

Amidst the ruins of mankind,

“For greater crisis averted”,

Herd following a mad drover,

Ten thousand lives for duty must

Leave families ever behind.

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Anachron, poème perdu des fleurs du mal.

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Les ombres et la brume épandues sur la terre,
Tels d’antiques brouillards, distordues et secrètes
Destinées à cacher la lumière éthérée
Aux yeux de ces gens qui, à tant la regarder,
En sont comme aveuglés et ne savent plus voir.

Tel est le prix que paient ceux qui veulent savoir.
Derrière ce rideau d’obscures vaguelettes,
Se cachent les desseins d’un immortel pater.

Nombreux sont les maris, les femmes, les parents,
Dont partent les amants, les cœurs de leurs enfants,
Happés par l’œil malin, si plat et solitaire.

Au travers du hublot, ouverte une autre terre,
Fenêtre sur un monde à la joie sans raison,
Fait de foudre et de son, de vives vibrations,
Quiconque au jeu se prend, par mégarde ou passion,
Tombe aux prises du vice ; Ah ! Ce sournois démon.

—– Alternative pour les derniers vers —–

Au travers du hublot, ouverte une autre terre,
Fenêtre sur un monde à la joie sans raison,
Fait de foudre et d’ondes, de lumière et de sons.
Qui donc se prend au jeu, par mégarde ou caprice,
De ce sournois démon, tombe victime au vice.

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Poème écrit il y a quelques années sur le thème de l’anachronisme et (humblement) inspiré de l’oeuvre de Baudelaire.

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Is he even human? Or does he even bleed?

Can this monster be hurt? Or be made to recede?

Will we be first to break, or instead to succeed?

What will lie in his wake once he has done his deed?

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There once was a young man

Who travelled far and wide,

Oh this is how began

The tale to find his bride.

He rode across the land

Atop a young brown steed,

Across the desert sand

And wild plains of tall weed.

In search of adventure,

His spirit to pleasure,

Wherever his heart took

Him, he went, had to look.

On his journey he met

Many a new comrade,

True, he also did get

Enemies to make mad.

His travels never stopped,

For nothing ever topped

His desire to see

How far he could go, free.

Once, as mountains he crossed,

Below in a valley,

A plain covered in frost

And there in its center

A dungeon, finally!

Ripe for him to enter.

For long it had captured

The wild thoughts in his mind,

Its story enraptured

His heart; he had to find!

Finally it was there

And as he pushed the door,

Smelled mysterious air,

He was struck to the core

For it was there, the tale

Told, in an old prison

Was kept a princess – Grail! –

By a mighty dragon.

That’s truly where began

His fateful adventure,

And where from boy to man

Slowly he did venture.

.

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Her name is Jane, she’s tall and racy,

You know the type of girl: dangerous,

Once she has caught your heart, treacherous,

You are done for and at her mercy,

So be very, oh very, careful,

She can handle herself, my dear friend,

Against a whole army she would fend,

She is a lot more than a handful!

Never has she been overpowered,

Nor ever from any man cowered;

That good! Look she’s even got a gun,

This battle you cannot – Oh shit run!

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Just something that made me laugh.

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Le temps est bon, le ciel est bleu,

La vie, belle, profitons-en !

Mais quel est – sentiment fielleux –

Cette noirceur qu’en moi je sens ?

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De corps et d’âme devrais-je être

Léger et libre comme l’air,

Or un frisson parcours ma chair

Car de mon cœur ne suis plus maître…

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Tu me l’as pris, entre tes doigts

Glisse ma vie, je suis à toi,

Simple pantin à ta merci,

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Le reste de mon existence,

Sans ton amour, n’a aucun sens,

Mon âme n’a plus d’inertie…

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Bright warm sun and clear sky, gentle wind on my face

Suddenly so many possibilities, why?

Myriads of incredible things I’d like to try.

For once the world seems to be moving to my pace…

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Once, I even dared believe

That I figured out beauty,

Though all I did was deceive

My soul from its true duty:

Which is to experience, feel.

But convinced I understood

The blueprints of all ideal,

In my pride, higher I stood

Believing I could tangle

With beauty; see its prude shapes

And calculate its angles

When I couldn’t even scrape

The layers of mystery,

Akin to a see-through drape,

That all throughout history

Had left many hearts agape.

I dreamt myself above god,

Oh I! but a poor blind sod…

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Not feeling entirely satisfied with this one, might need some reworking.

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I wish not for you to be mine

Only to spend time together

And really, no matter whether

We do or do not cross the line,

Your voice is a welcomed jingle,

With your mind I wish to mingle,

Your daily presence is my joy,

To me it’s true, even if coy…

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And whilst this knowledge was among men conferred

It was by all women but one, inferred,

For she somehow knew in advance

What would, in the end, be their stance,

Whether she played a part in all this

Or kept her hands unsoiled by blood,

None will ever know for she drowns in a flood

Of passion and torment with a single kiss,

Any and all who rise against her will

Turning potential saviors ever still,

Her power is great, her wickedness greater;

Now of all our hearts she is the curator.

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