The doors of Hell
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CHOICE OF PORTS
Ports in the hell of Acheron:
I swant to die.......Fates
This remorse..............................................Sad vengence
Complaints................................Bad luck
Sadness............Souls
RETURN TO THE CHOICE OF ITINERARIES
I want to die
To go anywhere
In my failed pasts
Return an eye over tomorrow
Or only see anything but nothing
I want to go
Far from what is
Far from what will be
Of what will not be
Exile myself into a sleep
Who deceives my tears
Where dream is only irreality
Where I can finally be
I want to leave
Away from all
From everythings that corrupt me
In a suffering cry
I want to exile myself
Under the star of unreality
To the lazyness of an infinity
I want to finally leave
I want to die
RETURN TO THE CHOICE OF POETIC STOPOVER
Fates
Shining suns are for all
The lasting roads that reflects them
Such fires, waiting to be sought.
These roads that are for us.
In the distance, like a sky
that one should reach,
at the turn of a turnabout.
A love perhaps,
Perhaps a sorrow?
This is the road that hides to the eyes
the fates, as the fates
hides to men the roads.
And the road rolls and rolls like life rolls,
silent and wise and cruel
In a nightmare, in a night.
And the passers-by which passes
over this life by a road that shines,
Sees those suns and ignore
that they are more shadows tant fires.
Move away from the light beams
that will burn you,
Flee the sweet winds
as they caresse a little too much.
RETURN TO THE CHOICE OF POETIC STOPOVER
This remorse
Oh! dark night.
Deep misery,
Of a winter evening
Alone in the dark.
Cavernous pasts,
Of crazy embraces
Dementia,
You are my rascals.
Do not let,
No, this memory
Pride itself
Of my death.
Erase my passing by,
Under the caress,
Of a landscape
Of distress.
Oh! dark night.
Deep misery,
Of a winter evening
Alone in the dark.
I deny that past ...
RETURN TO THE CHOICE OF POETIC STOPOVER
Sad vengeance
To be sad,
Wanting to die,
As life
Is sad.
I wisper,
By my spleen.
I have nights
darks
And nights
I send to sleep
Over the sidewalks.
They are my dumps.
I missed the boat
They have mounted.
Of escaping
I missed.
On my face I carry the mark
Announcing my heart.
Children are frightened
Seeing me passing by.
Poisoned is love,
Of picking up my fingers.
Girls are languishing
To suffer my joys.
So look for a cudgel
To scalp my head,
My skull of an ass
Which is only a dump.
Take a deep excavation
Discovering my bones,
Reject my body
like are buried the toads.
I have not a single friend,
For fear that they been rubs off,
As my blood has reddened
In contact with my vein.
Sad revenge
Of life
And the revenge
Of a hated man.
Sad humanity !........
RETURN TO THE CHOICE OF POETIC STOPOVER
Complaints
My soul is sorrowful,
Yet I am smiling.
I follow the crowd that live,
The lovers who dream
To the happiness of the feasts; And my soul is sad.
The weariness of stays,
Like the end of days,
The wakenings of nightmares;
Like the wind of leavings,
As the storm and the rain,
As the dream of the night.
My soul is sorrowful,
Sad to think that one day
It has been in love
And tha the cold fate
Has stolen this hand,
Which concealed my heart.
Thia mystified past
Of an atrophied happiness
This slight rustle of tulle
To the winds of twilight,
These dancing evenings
To the lovers' Profiles.
I am tired of living.
The days slips away
To the monotonous fates.
Sad images
Erased in the winds
Madness.
I have thiswind to my soul.
More than a soul,
And a sad soul.
I have that mad wind
In myself.
I have
the storm that roars
Eating away my dream
Of pested pasts,
And the foolish embraces
Of my sleeping phobias,
In the heat of the flesh,
Of the corpse dressed up.
This weary soul,
Of love of goodness,
Of the beautiful and the tenderness;
This metamorphosis,
The Medusa of the breast
Swollen with passion.
Evil in me is dying.
RETURN TO THE CHOICE OF POETIC STOPOVER
Souls
you will see darkness
You will see
Unfathomable crossover,
Cynical echoes
and days without hope
Isolated loves,
Unaffordable joys.
You will see
My soul.
RETURN TO THE CHOICE OF POETIC STOPOVER
Bad luck
it is an evil that hounds you
impossible to stifle away
as a predestination
cup of a revenge
that sucks your joys
infinitise the final point
disease
incurable lame
tripping of your successes
blind man's buff of your speeches
unlissened speechs
quicksand
the stagnation
eternal rain
a skull devoid of everything
throat cancer
you drool all over you
nobody need you anymore.
RETURN TO THE CHOICE OF POETIC STOPOVER
Sadness
Sadness
Sadness that tear off cries
memory
elusive
of ancient images
sudden idea of leaving
chill
weighing
and a heart drained of all tears
the head full of thinking
in endless dreams
laughter
of possessed souls
dispossessed
of joy
imbalance brain
towards inexisting places
presence
of the absence
the infinity
of illusions.
Marco Polo ou le voyage imaginaire (poésie 1955: les portes de l'enfer) © 2006 Jean-Pierre Lapointe
TO LEAVE THE ACHERON AND ENTER INTO THE HELL OF THE FAIRIES
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