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6 mars 2014 4 06 /03 /mars /2014 19:51




We'll meet again in urban chaos

between the no man's land of cities’ hopes

and seedy places of dusty lots

planted in religious deserts.


The loud buzz of a day’s end

will shake us out from our long torpors

filled with the indifference of our lukewarm heaters.

We will then fight over the pressure points

of our residual troubles.


Down to the shore, the marinas will wait for us

letting the pleasure crafts, at last,

guide us toward their world

of breeze, seaweed and salt:

head for unknown archipelagos of murderous hydras.


Quite predictably, corsairs' supple bullets

will bounce off our abdomens

less prone to futile pain

than the memorable frantic days lost at sea.


We will get washed up

against pipelines immersed along

the coasts of karstic rocks

as sensuous as shrapnel,

before being snatched by sprawling

points of embarkation.


On the speedometer of our navigation device,

complete standstill will prove very useful to our grasp

of a world devoid of its contours.


And then, the transshipment between three mixed cargos

will prove as delicate as illusory,

since except for a few fleeting dreams on board,

no load of ideals will be transferable.


Yet, the semblance of maneuvers

will easily overcome the lashing sea spray,

with the alluring sway that curious onlookers

will know how to turn into fantastic shipwreck tales.


Sooner or later, we'll have to surrender

to the power of acoustic screens

deciphering raw mutism

and wanderers’ rebellion.


In the depth of murky waters,

our ultrasonic radars will help us

reconnect with our flesh and blood.

Ghost echoes may likely cause interference with signals

received from the outside, but with determination

we will be able to pull ourselves

from their magnetic turmoil.


Joys born from the most remote confines of our endogenous world

will relieve us of any excessive frequential distress,

and to our delight, space-crafts

supplied at the stern of stoic frigates

will arm themselves with ambrosia spouts

to rescue us from stormy waters.


Someday, we'll meet again in urban chaos, I swear to you,

and we will all have fled our bodies decayed by war and wear

that impassively slide by

winding paths of dazzling limbo.


For the flesh piled upon the other, purulent with desire and fear,

fallen prey to greedy ignorance,

there will always be, written somewhere, I remember,

in those forever wide-opened eyes,

the original silence of freedom

that, once adrift, one happens to enjoy rediscovering at sea.









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  • : Le blog de erts.over-blog.com
  • : His poetic style is a combination of lyrical writing with social, experimental and humorous themes. He believes that poetry has to renew with its popular functions to regain vitality in the world of French literature, as well as he likes committing most of his work to the constraints of certain traditional rules of form (to also have the pleasure of transgressing them).
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