Adonis Diaries

Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Je suis et je ne suis Personne.

Je ne sers aucun parti
Je ne fais partie d’aucun groupe
Je ne revendique aucun courant
Je suis libre comme l’électron
Ni soumise aux événements
Ni éprise de mes propres errements

Comme l’électron
Je suis en suspens ou en surplomb
Par rapport à toute fixation
À toute induction à toute déduction
J’erre… jamais je n’adhère
Je cherche l’heure, pas l’erreur
Je décris le bonheur, le malheur
De celui qui n’a pas d’autre chemin que celui qu’il s’invente
Le navigateur solitaire, l’acteur amer, l’homme à terre

J’annonce et je dénonce
Les cécités de nos cités
Nos impuissances, nos belles espérances
Les affections qui amenuisent nos capacités d’action
Nos complexes… un peu trop complexes
Notre nature dénaturée
Notre culture raturée

Et je m’indigne et je me révolte et je m’explose
À chaque fois qu’on confond les effets et les causes
À chaque fois qu’on fait la plus belle part à la mauvaise foi
Je dis que je suis libre comme l’électron
On me répond que l’électron n’est pas libre
Je surenchéris en affirmant que je suis l’exception
Détachée et sans attaches
Désintéressée et sans intérêt
Finie et sans affinités
Plus libre que l’air

Même si je n’ai pas l’air libre
Je suis et je ne suis personne
Rien qu’un personnage que je façonne
Sans raison apparente
Mais avec une passion évidente
Celle de l’artiste hésitant
Entre se peindre ou se pendre

Non… je ne m’identifie pas à l’électron
Quand je dis que je suis libre
Mais au vide qu’il ne cesse de remplir
Avec son imagination errante et aberrante
Je suis abandonnée, délaissée

Sans possibilité ni volonté de m’accrocher
Je me suis accordé cependant, un petit sursis : celui de défendre toutes les causes perdues d’avance…
La justice, pour commencer… la justice pour en finir !

Note: Defending Justice is a lot of work and need comprehensive knowledge and engagement with other professional groups. In your case, you could say you are fighting for fairness in relationships.

Posted this Nov. 4, 2012


Friends, lend me your ears

“Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;

So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Caesar answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest–
For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men
Come I to speak in Caesar’s funeral.

He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome

Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,

Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,

But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,

And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.”
Mark Antony from “Julius Caesar” (Act III, Scene II).

A few poems by Marlene Monroe

Here are five particularly poignant fragments from the book.

On travelling by bus to Salinas:
I was the only person
woman with about
sixty Italian fisherman…such charming gentleman…
and (they hoped) fish were
waiting for them. Some
could hardly speak English
not only do I love Greeks
(illegible) I love Italians.
they’re warm, lusty and friendly as hell—I’d love to go to
Italy someday

On sailors:
I saw a lot of lonely young
sailors who/ they looked too
young to be so sad. They reminded me of
young slender trees still growing & painful

On trees:
Sad sweet trees—
I wish for you—rest
but you must be wakeful

On love:
My love sleeps besides me—
in the faint light…
but he will look like this when he is dead
oh unbearable fact inevitable
yet sooner would I rather his love die
than/ or him?

And marriage:
I guess I have always been
deeply terrified to really be someone’s
since I know from life
one cannot love another,
ever, really

“The Stranger”. Poem by late Palestinian Mahmoud DarwishThis person was a stranger to me

I had no idea what she could have done before
I saw a coffin, people in mourning
I walked with her, her head low, in an important respect attitude
She was walking ahead of me.
I found no opportunity to ask her my well-composed questions
“Who is in the coffin? How this late person died? How it lived?”
Of the many ways people dies from,
I can vouch for one that I experienced
“Living badly”

“Bajazet” of Racine

You have Ottoman Sultan Amurat who assassinated one of his brother and about to assassinate the younger brother Bajazet. A third brother Ibrahim is simple of spirit and is saved because he does Not constitute a threat for succession. Actually, the successor will be a son of Ibrahim.

Amurat is leading the army and put siege on Babylon. The grand vizier in Istanbul dread the return of Amurat from war because he is liked by the janissaries, contrary to their loyalty to the current Sultan.

Amurat broke the law and appointed Roxane as Sultana in his absence before she gives him a son: Thus Roxane is Not yet married to Amurat.

Amurat sent Roxane a secret order to assassinate Bajazet and the Grand Vizir drowned the messenger in order Not to leave a witness to the order.

Grand Vizir has a master plan to declare Bajazet Sultan and disseminate falsehoods to Roxane et notables about the status of the war and the predicaments of Amurat.

He also plan to marry Atalide, close relative of Amurat and Bajazet in order to retain his power. Atalide and Bajazet are in love since childhood: Bajazet’s mother brought them up together until adolescence.

The Grand Vizir entice Atalide to let Roxane believe that Bajazet loves her in order to delay the execution of the order. Roxane falls in the scheme and starts to believe that she loves Bajazet and that her love is reciprocal without meeting Bajazet personally.

“L’ingrat ne parle pas comme on le fait parler”

Finally, Roxane decides to clear her emotions and summons Bajazet to express his feelings. In case Bajazet  seems unwilling to marry her, she will execute the order.

The trick is that Atalide grew up with Bajazet and they are crazily in love.

“Ah! L amour a- t-il tant de prudence?

Mais qu’aisément l’amour croit tout ce qu’il souhaite

(Roxane) Ne put voir sans amour ce héros trop amiable…


Of Love and other demons

During Europe Middle Age, over 50,000 women were burned alive as witches. Mainly women were submitted to be exorcised.

In “De l’amour et autre demons” by late Gabriel Garcia Marquez, the 12 year-old girl Sierva Maria was locked up and harassed by exorcism procedures.

I am extracting the French translation of a few lines from one of the sonnets of Garcilaso de la Vega, a soldier who died young at war and wrote 40 sonnets, 3 églogues, 2 élegies and 5 songs to a Portuguese girl who was Not a beauty, and married some else and even died before him:

O doux attraits pour mon malheur trouvés

Entre vos mains, enfin, je m’abandonne óu je sais que je mourrai

Afin qu’a moi seul il soit prouvé comment sur le vaincu frappe l’épée

Que t’apaisent celles que pour toi j’ai versées (les larmes)

Quand je demeure a contempler mon état et vois le chemin óu m’ont conduit tes pas

Je mourrai, car sans fourbe je suis donné a celle qui saura me perdre et m’achever

Do walls build prisons? Do iron bars make a cage? by Joelle Giappesi

Richard Lovelace wrote this poem in 1642, in the Westminster Prison:

“Stone walls do not a prison make,

Nor iron bars a cage;

Minds innocent and quiet take

That for an hermitage;

If I have freedom in my love,

And in my soul am free,

Angels alone that soar above,

Enjoy such liberty.”

Note: Joelle Giappesi or Julie, is a Franco-Lebanese who was put in prison, condemned for 5 years firm, for repeated heroine addiction at the age of 43. “Walls do not make the prison” is not simply a fiction novel.




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