Question marks
Questions marks
Qui suis-je – question mark
D’où je viens – question mark
Où je vais – question mark
Who ? What ? When ? Where ? Why ?
W-questions…
My life is a perpetual inner investigation,
the endless quest of my dizzy brain.
Questions arise from everywhere at every moment.
There is no end to this long interrogation, I believe,
But a shipwreck.
I need a dash, or dots, dots, dots forever
a break, a space to breathe
an instant of peace and silence.
This, to clear out the chaotic order of
letters, alliterations of vowels and hammering consonants
meaningless syllables, inhuman voices and speeches
words thought, heard, uttered and remembered.
Lullabies of my first days
nursery rhymes, songs, tunes,
musics together orchestred into my ears.
A real cacophony, an orchestral racket
left unmastered by my brain, defenceless conductor.
Steps to go with this fanfare:
romantic waltzes, sensuous belly dances,
electric rock’n’roll, tap-dances, salsa rhythms,
mournful jazz tunes, argentine tango and samba.
Swaying hips, gracious shoulders and arms,
female bodies moving deliciously.
Colours, flashes, images
episodes of my life remembered with delectation or relief
dreams at night, visions in the light.
With all images and sounds comes a questioning.
This grandiose carnival, extraordinary show
is the perpetual investigation of my W-questions,
the endless quest of my dizzy brain.
I truly need a shipwreck,
a dash, or dots, dots, dots forever
a break, a space to breathe
an instant of peace and silence.