solitude
poetic ports


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Diverses poetic ports:

Solitude night........... You will read....

Insomnias................................................................................ Metronome

song hanged to........ The ennemies' door....

The last dance


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Solitude night



A road of alcohol between your fingers who dressed
like breaths

A life anywhere between my dreams
of restricted sleeps

A night of nightmare in the tired strings
of your biting arms

A sad story that flows over the lost moons
of your forehead

I dispatch your fragile smiles to the drawer
of my insomnias



I inoculate the balm of your lips over my blanks
of dreams

I emprison your mobile looks to the sprawls
of your avid fingers

I sculpt the stone of your breasts over the mold
of my nights of iron

And the night has all the same dispatch its solitude



mistress


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You will read..............

you will read your fingers fold at ease
the slaughter music to the earth of feet
the girls animals
the boys virgin
the feast savage



Your will read the dreams of munster drawings
the savage shores of jackal mornings
the torned beds
the corrupted sleeps
of boys and girls

your will read the flesh of my palms
the foulty reading of my days
the corners and nooks
somber always
to the emptyness of my hands

......................................


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Insomnias

go mysteries insomnias
horse-ride in my wounds
forcefeed my vains of boredom
I am thirsty, I am thirsty, I am thirsty



I have trumpets and saxophones
I have jazz in my belly nightmare
I have the virgin forest of sculls
negros, negros, negros
alcohol in the shadow of my eyes

I have my belly full of drums
mysteries insomnias musical
negros drums spleen
play, play, play



in my belly mirage
the rythm laziness of era
play my fingers variations
call eyes closed
call the sadness and fatality
call leaziness on my face
I want to listen
I want to play
I want to dream


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Metronome

the night is metronome
the objects dance
the night says goodby
the objects metronome
I have the dance to my fingers
dance metronome



to the style of my crooked fingers
crooked fingers of the metronome
a window of rain with flu
I have a window in cold
a corner of heaven framed



carnage forehead
warriors forehead
jokes to the blackbird window
metronome to the burial
burial of windows my nights
the bed pick me up shacking
I have flutes full my hands
flute metronome drums beating

I feel my flute raining
flute metronome emptied
flute asleep
no more flutes no more tam-tams
metronome asleep




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A song hanged to.....

A song is hanged to the wall of my scull
and I untie my hopes of happiness
in scattered verses over my tongues of singing

A lover come forward in my streets
who escapes to the first ballad of my nights

My nights call back their fantasmagoric unicity



Filaments of calcinated moons are my harem



where they try to take me
and sleep in the strangled dreams

My fingers of getting over your breasts
strike the obscure wall of my bedroom
and I throw myself definitively to the fingers of hope

If I fell at last in your wanted beds
it is to find there the obscure evasion
of my sundays without tomorrows


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The ennemis' doors......

The noons thirsty of dust
extract our sculls from the picture
the cranes of suns over our foreheads
and the disconfort of pieces of sidewalks
the hunger breath our corpses
the hunger of congested sidewalks
the sickness that bite one's fingers
the lip monney that suck still





I listen to the doors of ennemies
the birds near the sky
the boredom over the index of God
bleed the bird my friend

Stones scattered over our scull
I extract the sands from your eyes
my canes of suffering fingers
the blood of my vains exile
to the hollow of hypocrite landscapes
this life of grown person
and the play of exhausted fountains
fountains of stone heart
this picture of inconvenience
the hasard of fatal colors
a man over his forehead
who was much careless




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The last dance.

asymptotic dances
dance



dance like caravelle to the midem of nights
dance girlies and jackies
the nights are short and wiseless
dance your breasts blazing to the moon
dance your prick sacrified to the mirage
dance jackies and girlies
penetrate one into the other under the elm of shadow
make love incognito
have a feast your youth in frange
make hihi to the latrines sex-appeal
make haha to the chimes dadas

enter the night chapel eyes closes
jump the toe of nut kings
beat the queeny breast of nuns ideas
gargle to the essences of salivas
lost yourself in the snow of infantile breasts
dance parablecly
dance over the parable of belly
dance over the icone of your days
dance over the hand, factory work
dance over the thirst, absurd morning
dance over the life, asteroid path
dance saraband, girlies and jackies



Marco Polo or the imaginary journey (poetry: Solitudes 1956, translated from French in 1998) © 1996 Jean-Pierre Lapointe


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