Traversées poétiques 

Comme un mauvais rêve

par Flora Beillouin

Une série de courts poèmes illustrés. Incursion de bêtes sauvages, menaces de pénurie, pulsions meurtrières ou rêves de retrouvailles : que disent ces songes de ce qui travaille notre inconscient collectif ?

Like a bad dream - English version

Thank you Kwasi for opening this conversation with a dreamlike image. To continue on the theme of « Dreaming, Imagining », this week I have collected ten stories of dreams of confinement around me to create a series of short illustrated poems. Incursions of wild beasts, threats of scarcity, murderous impulses or dreams of reunion: what do these dreams say about what works our collective unconscious?

Poems

The Monkeys

Hordes of monkeys are melting over the city…

In the howl of the sirens,

A bus is tearing me out of the crossfire,

Drags me to the hill of a thousand tin beds

To stretch out fresh sheets

To the bodies to come.

S.

Pulsion

The avenue is wide
At dusk.
You suddenly appear
Another version of me
Ugly and bald.
And I’m grabbing you, Uncle,
I’ll squeeze your throat until you die.
I want you to know how much I hate you…
For making us suffer.

N.

Offering

On the side of the mountain watch
A chiseled sphinx, white marble.
The Egyptian desert is immense of lonelyness.
I feel ridiculously small.
Yet my hands have shaped the bread.
It now rests on a stone, like an offering.
But the lioness that prowls around me grabs me by the throat.

C.

The sacred grass

The doorbell rings.
It’s the dealer.
My brother double-crosses my dad to get to the door before he does.
And I’m cutting him off.
Down with the hypocrisy, since we’re cooped up as a family,
Then we will share the sacred grass.
We’ll take all your supply and lie no more.
In the dark eyes of my mother
I read, however, that there are still limits
Unpassable.

N.

Leave

« Leave or stay?  »
I repeated to myself in an echo.
« Leave or stay?  »
On an unresolved world map,
Toxic, dear or admired people who had crossed my path…
Sailing between the waterlines…
By combining the formula
Like an incantation.
« I go or I stay, you go or you stay, we go, you stay…  »
When I woke up, my uncle had left this world.

A.

Jackpot

The streets of Lille are empty.
In the opaque night, a silhouette of ink
From which come the muffled sounds of repeated blows.
A man unsuccessfully hits a condom dispenser.
Then the silhouette moves away with a shrug.
And I, in turn, strike the sterile metal box…
To test the resistance.
Suddenly, cascades of gold coins spring forth from it.

B.

Domestic

The world then
Had banned cats.
The undesirables were
Trampled, defenestrated, crushed.
The men began to prefer them…
Spiders.
Their hairy bodies were
Caressed, worshipped, cuddled.
But is it really any crazier?

T.

Light

In an unreal city,
Not quite my own,
Not quite your own,
We finally found each other.
We live together
In a huge workshop bathed in light.
I cradle our unborn baby girl
While you’re writing
Future years.

Z.

Vision

I’m opening my window on street life.
On the other side, the bust that I can see
Wasn’t a statue
But a decapitated head
Who’s watching me
With his basement eyes.

M.

Chevauchée

The golden dragon splits the skies.
I ride him and it’s exhilarating…
To go into battle.
Under the belly of the dragon,
You can hear the roar of the battlefield
The human tide.

V.

A diffuser sans modération !