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a new way of looking at... writings >> jacque coulardeau >> timeless bug |
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The black spider of my dreams Has spread her tentacles over me Empty and silent The vast reduction of space With its shrinking sable star-bars Engraves me in the cloggy earth Immobile and senseless I have digested the acid past Reached out for the sanctified mystery of tomorrow Only to find The empty grave of right now I have searched the world The jungle and the toundra The deep ocean and the Himalayas Only to find The hollow circle of right here I have scratched the surface of the sea And have not left a trace The rippling waves have beaten on unperturbed and indifferent I have lost my modus In the immense nothingness of the episodic crowd Who Like a battling surf Has leveled the eves with the morns dusk and dawn Into that soothing night of barbèd wire That stands still in the invisible waste Of untouchable strangedom This black spider of my dreams Has spread her tentacles over me My eyes scum its brownish tummy Hard as a stone Repulsive as a hole Swaying its way down To crush that beetly skull of mine And preserve my whitish brains In the semen of its poisonous glue And my dead foetal imagination Ejaculates back into my swooning head The worn out threads of old That shackle and manacle Each of my fingers Each of my hairs Into a cocoon of silk The silk of the mandarinesque very honorable dignitaries Of the moral wilderness of the towering few and crawling many "The law of the past cannot be eluded "The law of the present and future cannot be eluded "The law of the living cannot be eluded, it is eternal "The law of promotion and transformation cannot be eluded "The law of heroes and good-doers cannot be eluded "The law of drunkards, informers, mean persons, not one iota thereof can be eluded" After that infinite tense vigil Tortured out of my deictic memory I suddenly feel Through my marrowless muscles The shooting of an unknown white fire That needles my flesh with flowery constellations of minute minutiae And the sky suddenly clears Pierced by long flashy flames The fireworks explode everywhere In their bursting fury of joy The crowd starts dancing cutting capers over the lawns waltzing across the squares under the limes and the planes Children shout and yell In chorus or in sexual duet And all over this There in the distance On the velvety platform In a halo of sacredness Stands He The master of us all the mayor the president tyhe king Beating the measure with his knee Swinging the rhythm with his head Enjoying himself at the spectacle And what a spectacle indeed! Popular festivities have festooned the trees and the houses with roses and tulips And the stars jealous as women try to compete with the fuego of the feast The war is over The barbaric hitlerians have been defeated We cannot eat We hardly can drink But let us dance The dance of the heroes Dead or alive The dance of the burnt bones Overthere in this Alabamic Auschwitz "The law of the past cannot be eluded" The old world has at last died in its own mire The American instersts in Mideast Have taken the same way as The American interests in Vietnam They have at last been swallowed By the big desertic dragon Of the crusaded Islam Siegfried was not American His sword has for ever been lost The Western world of old Is no more than a memory And "The law of the present and future cannot be eluded" Though some religious souls 'God knows what is to come' Keep one or two keepsakes Of that old perished mammoth Souvenirs souvenirs That after all might be relics To some Sakharov or Solzhenitsyn A transcending thorning crown Spinning at the tip of a reed Christ recrucified by the credo Of a backsighted myopic gullibility But "The law of the living cannot be eluded "The law of promotion and transformation..." The old Poseidon has at last been overthrown And we now can see the glorious sky of dark And its mysteries "Not one iota thereof can be eluded "Not one iota thereof "Not one iota" Look at the starry hyperbole Look at the moony parabole Ride the milky sinusoid Wave away with the wavering wane And admire behind you The identically wavering wake A wake we are Floating on the cosmos A wake a wake all all a wake A wake on a wide wide sea So wide So great So measureless to man That we can't even reach The next molecule In spite of all the good-doers O could we but build a bridge abreast this broad fluency Let us arch the pointlike arrow of the present On this everlying function Let us draw the Cartesian zero of the freeze Of this everfleeing function But the TV dances in the dark With colors black and white Plied from top to toe Shuttled from right to left And I Spineless spectator Taste the gallish bitterness Of a dirty liver That creeps on my tongue As I try to swallow the massaged leftovers Bonanza Mission Impossible Doctor Marcus Welby Love American Style Fuck American Style Suck American Style America is a lollipop Suck it if you like it The rotting sugar of that everstanding sweet power And destroy your crystal teeth That glow bright in the slimy darkness of the wilds "The law of drunkards, informers and mean persons, not one iota thereof..." OFF OFF I jump into the boat Which cockles me over the sighy storm The light veneer plies up and down with the surf Of the regular amplitude Of the rhythmic frequency And as the present never stops on the screen I feel out for the dizzy vertigo Of a neverended elevation Into the ever-rending timesickness of mine To be or not to be Was good enough for the Renaissance To have been or to become That is the question Not the rub not the caress The dreamlike ambition that yet is no dream God at last doomed by Doctor Faust Into the witch-pot of man's heart My heart That has never learned how to march That has never worn a uniform Sags when it should rise And stands when it should lie It beats upside down And blurs the ocean away Vapory and grey Look Here is a band Playing some national anthem Brilliant with stars ans spurting blood Some Queen is courted by some General And a President here and there is assassinated for having been elected But this last vision sets Moonlike and smiling red Over the splendors of the feast And the cutter is tossed about in the pitching night While my stomach vomits the remnants of a famished past In the unreachable depth of an evercradled future fast. |