Enfantement [ sonnet]

La mer était déserte, et la terre inféconde
Essayait d'oublier des Siècles de sommeil ;
Dans les affres sans fin d'un douloureux éveil
Elle semblait attendre une forme sur l'onde.

Je l'ai vue émerger de l'eau noire et profonde,
Et son corps ruisselait de larmes de Soleil,
Se perlait de cristal, d'azur et de vermeil
Pour offrir sa lumière à ce matin du Monde.

Deux pommes dans mes mains, si lourdes à saisir,
Deux fruits au goût de miel appelaient le désir
Qui montait d'une gorge encore inassouvie.

Et la femme allait naître, océan tiède et clair,
Comme une aube nouvelle où s'enfante la vie
Par la blessure ouverte au secret de sa chair.

Chimère [ Sonnet ]

Me voici chirurgien qui dissèque les âmes,
Courbant mon front fiévreux sur les aberrations,
Les vices, les péchés, les abominations,
Les primaires instincts aux tendances infâmes.

Grands ouverts devant moi, cerveaux d' HOMME ou de Femme
étalent sans pudeur en larges convulsions
Leurs neurones pervers aux sadiques passions.
Je palpe les secrets douloureux des grands drames.

Puis, les deux bras noircis d'un sang tuberculeux,
Dans un cahier je note en termes scrupuleux
Ce que mes yeux aigus ont vu dans les ténèbres.

S'il faut un autre crâne au couteau dissecteur,
Je m'étends à mon tour sur les Billards funèbres
Et je plante en hurlant le scalpel rédempteur.

A mon AlCADE [ sonnet ]

Du fond de ma prison, en criant je t'invoque
Depuis près de vingt ans, juge des outrages,
Patron du désespoir, tyran des affligés,
Gérant de moult horreurs et des scènes baroques.

Receleur des nantis, du luxe et de la loque,
Aboyeur de bons mots sur les douleurs forgés,
Grand chef de maints enfers des cachots surchargés,
Viens à moi dans la lie, ou mon âme suffoque.

Tes jugements de cours trop cérémonieux...
J'aimerais discourir d'actes pernicieux,
De de nos plaisirs châtrés et d'amour impossible,

Te chanter ma chanson sur les révélations,
Te traîner dans le fond d'un mitard putrescible,
Pour en finir enfin de tes péroraisons.

BIOGRAPHY
Nicolas Descamino
The great classic poet Nicolás Descamino was born on September 6 of 1948 in the quaint town of Villard Bonnot in the mountainside of Belledonne’s plateau, only 10 km far away from Grenoble’s city in France. As a product of his Italian-Spanish origin [roots from which he proudly makes reference with one of his most beautiful poems titled “Racines” of his book Staccato].

When Nicolas came to this world his skin was completely black, “black as charcoal” – as the poet commented in some interview- nuance that he keeps during the next six months and it was until the seventh month when his skin color gets a tanned tone, like that one from a southerner Spanish, Italian or Arabic. The first combat from a long list that throughout his existence he had to deal with was against his own father, since when he met his offspring and when he realized his dark skin color, besides emphasizing his alcohol addiction and denying his paternity under the argumentation that it was due to a supposed infidelity from his spouse with some black anthracite, he submits the infant to the most savage violence which in many occasions led him to lift him from his cradle in order to throw him against the ground causing him serious traumatism, and those very same acts were denounced, and the notarial deed can be consulted at the Police Station of Villard Bonnot.

As a teenager, Nicolas was an intelligent young man, with a sensible but irascible soul, but unfortunately he never counted with the support of any tutor to guide him through the winding walks of life, in order to prevent him from taking the wrong path, which he mentions in his poetry books, in his stories and novels. Regardless of how he was badly hit by his father, the gaul poet was provided with an out of the ordinary physical strength by nature. A sports lover, the young man ventured into football, skiing, karate, judo, cycling, swimming and horseback riding, disciplines in which without a doubt he could had excelled if he had had his father’s support.

descaminon@free.fr