Thursday, April 16, 2015

L'asile des sages




Aujourdhui j'ai laissé les sages de la terre à leur Dieu, et Dieu aux sages,

j'ai fait un pacte avec les fous.


Que les sages parlent des déchets humains tout en se prenant pour des intellectuels,
Que les sages exposent leurs déchets partout,
Que les sages copient le comportement des autres
Que les sages croient que fumer comme les "Sartres" les fait des Sartres
Que les sages croient que la féminité est un cheval en jupe
Que les sages croient que la pauvreté est éternelle
Que les sages croient être des mathématiciens en disant que le Zero n'existe pas




je serai des fous,
des fous qui savent ce qu'est un axiome en mathématiques,
des fous qui trouvent que fumer tue,
des fous qui dévorent toutes les publications  et ne se rassaisisent pas
des fous qui se réinventent tous le jours,
des fous qui sachent que la pauvreté viens de la paresse
des fous qui ont construit leur propre philosophie folle
des fous qui s'en fichent du Dieu des sages,

des fous qui se moquent des sages qui ne savent pas que ce blog existe








 


Bahijeh Akoury

Poison in poetry, review of " تمارين على تبديد الوقت"

A year ago, I was invited to this poetry book signing and review, in a friend's house, i didn't go, being not interest in arabic literature nor in the audience that might be present.
In the summer, I ran again into this book in a book exhibition, so I bought it.

It was officially the first book I buy written by a lebanese in arabic language
:  "تمارين على تبديد الوقت" by  "Fawzi Yammine", and my second experience in reading a book in arabic

The first experience, was "المستبد" some 8 or 9 years ago, the book was one of the worst book I ever read, pervert, sick, twisted.

It tooks me till now to read again Arabic literature

From the first pages it was impressive and shocking;


I thought it impressed me because it was my first reading of this genre.
But after reading other poetry books, the impression persists, strong, burning, devastating, and frustrating, yet very innocent; no perversion is found anywhere.

But this book is frustrating to the maximum, it was obvious that the author autocensored some ideas, one can feel that sentences were erased or some missing words in his short instances of passionate lyricism


But It was like reading a fantastic book for Marquez combined with some surrealist poetry of  Eluard agremented with the slow poison of a Sagan' novel and strengthened with some guns powders stolen from our village.

كلمات مدبوغة بسم احرفها تنفجر كقنابل صغيرة صامتة



Visual verses are everywhere, it reminded me of some cartoons scenes I used to adore when I was a kid:
طبشت الباب فوقع السطح عن البيت وصرت مكشوفا

I adored the anarchism showing everywhere
استشهادي الخاص والعام
اولا برصانة العلماء
ثانيا بانفة الواعظين ،يبشرون بعيون مغمضة كأنهم يستحلبون سرا

Amazing his description of the woman desire, so much of archaic fear:
شهوتهن تنهش المراكب والسفن الجرارة
...
صرخة نهد جائع


Fantastic, with magical effect, dark and sharp

I will not go into the existentialist questions it raises, others did it. But these questions definitely are like little shots of  poison

I can not tell if it is a good poetry book, but definitely it is  a very impressive book.


The next question is, the man who wrote such book can re-invente himself in the next book or it will be a repetition?
And will he be able to free himself from  autocensorship, how far and how bolder can he goes?

Bahijeh Akoury