Caricamento in corso...

You are not You, reductio ad absurdum

What’s the drive keeping me on,
While continuing to ignore when I hear come on,
Deaf to my desires, blind to evidence, no defense
Stance after stance not knowing how to dance
Move void of choreography
Discourse house, cacophony
Indisposed, once high spirited, won’t you come?
 
In the sands of time I seek thee
You, oblivious of once being me
As indecision mates with suspicion in a dark marriage
Celebration of decadence, tainted flowers, stench of cans
An imaginary line of jalopy vans
Fugue in a crazy run, rabid horses, Gothic carriage.
Because you could have had all that and more
Still reserving all the rest you adore, family and lore
Erudition and folklore, the red moon,
An embrace, your own pace.
 
Life is only a shadow of doubt, forgetful of about,
Cards already played returning to the deck
Unrelenting, intransigent, not meant to be conducted,
Void of leniency,
Pieces always fitting, too late to make sense, steel grim.
And I, always turning stones, looking for fantasy, whim.
 
Opportunities come and pass, epochs stare as I never dare.
Praised be my progeny, may they be free
Independent, adverse to their father,
May they look upon things with humility
Distance themselves of conceptual artifices, stay natural
Cultivate the body through activity, fitness is neuronal.
 
Drown in fears, lost friend, there’s no you.
You asphyxiated in your imaginary and were torn to pieces
You inhabit the entrails of gavials and gators
And still there is some of your stench over some bayou...
 
Turning into the snake author to this incoherence
Materialization of an insane nation of your savage natures
All of you frustrations, layers of auto piety you cannot hide
As ugly as the worst inside of you, stopping your thrive...
 
Agnostic by social correctness,
Atheistic without distress
Pantheistic Xantoist, Buddhist Hindu
 
J’étais très jeune quand je lisais le singe nu
Je croyais que Mircea Eliade était une jolie femme
Tant d’erreurs dans ce chemin qu’au bout, je l’aime
Et les yeux d’un homme parle comme personne
S’il y avait une interprète pour les montrer.
C’est la raison, en écoutant radio Québec,
J’ai décidé d’écrire en français san rimer
Langue que j’adore car ma nature est plein d’émotions
Et je ne suis pas capable d’être petit et vain longtemps.
 
Comme la bonanza doit succéder à la rage des vents,
Ici isolé, plein d’amour, sans clé,
J’attends seule depuis des années.

Alone since 2012, I added two last lines to the original, from this now, 2019. And kept the original french of the last stanzas. Nor English or French are my native language, Portuguese (Português) from Portugal is, so...I am sorry for deciding to maintain 2012 as is. It still made sense now, although, evidently, times are changing and we following, or staying aloof...
Yours sincerely,

The author

Altre opere di M Genth...



Top