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Discussion: Airports

  1. #1
    Membre F.A.M.
    Date d'inscription
    janvier 2013

    Par défaut Airports

    Poeme de Janette Ayachi (pere algerien) acclamee aux quatres coins de la terre:

    Dislodged in a wasteland of waiting
    contemplating everything
    as messengers preach time and connections
    over tannoys, surveillance is implanted in walls,
    so that in a control room somewhere
    everyone is a digital shadow
    a migraint, a traveller, a terrorist
    all waiting our turn to get on board
    take off to another city escaping one life
    to step in to another story.
    We feed a limbo of cargo into gluttinous x-rays
    our belongings stripped down to bare shapes
    as we stand in circles take cylindrical steps
    backwards lines fragment, return to the beginning.
    The planes engines surrender their gutturals
    spluttering a fuel of song into the ether
    an interegnam of language is performed
    signals are instructed by the body.
    An army of hostesses hosting high hair
    high fashion and high eyebrows
    walk their suitcases like small dogs
    where every surface is a runway.
    How long in this postmodern space
    existing only as a passing place
    where time is suspended, hangs from the beaks
    of scavenger birds that drop morsels of time to other places.
    Escalators escalate being, we ziz zag into various levels
    of the cerebral, engaging with glass
    rewiring frayed neurons asking ourselves questions.
    I'm convinced even breathing is monitored here
    our musculoskelatal choreograpgh marked
    lungs ziplocked with a respitory stock of reasons
    to why it is we are falling out of love
    to how long we will be unhappy.
    Airports are where the choked heart unclogs itself
    it tugs at the plug of time to bolt towards variations of light
    the ticket stubs from the screening of our lives
    gathering into piles like the accumulation of cash
    a wealth of experience corrugated down a dotted line
    handing out pieces of yourself
    to board on to the lives of others
    our passes for ports wedged between fingers
    like lime balancing its periphery on ice
    in the glasses we place on fold down tables
    linear flight serves premises from one cloud
    of emotion to another, with an uncanny sense of unbelonging
    and a longing never to be lonely again.

  2. #2
    Membre F.A.M.
    Date d'inscription
    janvier 2013

    Par défaut

    Ce poeme etait inspire lors d'un passage en transit par la France ou la soeur de Janette (Sabrina)
    a ete fouillee dans l'aeroport.

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