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Introduction
Julian LeSouffrir is reaching the sundry world of underground Goth with his book
The Book of Tragedy Ø: Dark Poetry Part 1, the first installment of his trilogy. The trilogy focuses on several emotional
elements that act as interlocking themes throughout the individual pieces. The idea of imperfection as perfection, the outcast
as a hero and topics such as suicide, flawed human nature, love, death, loss, loneliness, pain, despair, and suffering both
physically and emotionally are deeply rooted in his writings. By generating his own philosophy, symbols and outlooks that
are conversely associated to that of society, Souffrir has created a new form of writing, thinking and living. His other works
include plays, short stories, illustrations, intellectual pieces and a musical. His versatile writing ability sets him apart
from other authors and also adds new dimensions to his works. Very few authors have the literary arsenal that Souffrir possesses,
especially in the realm of dark tragedy.
Biography
Julian LeSouffrir is the offspring of a
miserable sordid past. Themes that appear often in his work involve suicide, murder, insanity, revenge, sex, lust, torment,
self-loathing, love, loss and other topics that are typical of tragedies. His masterwork, The Book of Tragedy Chronicles,
illustrate the anguish and pain that he reflects unto his misbegotten characters, each bearing a dark part of him and/or something
he hates. Souffrir’s objective is to spread his message and reshape the world in an image more fitting to his own interests.
The works of Lord Byron, John Milton and William Blake have all influenced him in one form or another.
The
Book of Tragedy 0: Dark Poetry Part I
(Poetry Samples)
Bleed for
my Art
I wanted to do what’s never been done before,
There maybe no ceiling, but I’m stuck on the
floor.
How do you strive for the sky
When your wings are tattered and you cannot fly?
Jumping doesn’t do it,
using a ladder is cheating,
Trying to be innovative and imaginative but my ideas are all fleeting.
No wonder so many
are in a grave even lower than where they started,
If you cannot adapt and go high, immortality is not awarded.
I can’t
be one of the many though I have become accustom to being alone,
I don’t need to be famous; I am fine with being
unknown.
But my work must go on; something experimental and new,
Many before me were not angels but all of them still
flew.
Make no mistake; I have all that I need,
What is a legacy of pain if you never bleed?
A Cherub Trapped in Hell
Infatuated with the forbidden,
Intrigued by all that’s hidden,
Lost in the forsaken,
Obsessed
with what was wrongfully taken.
This is who I am and for me there’s no looking back,
There is not even regret
for the remorse that I lack.
What I have become is something that no one had expected,
I guess it is just the end result
of years of being neglected.
Left alone to my own devise,
You can still hear the echo of shattered dreams in my deep
sorrowful cries.
Look at who I could have been,
Now look again at the reflection of sin.
Lost in a world that shall
be mine,
If you too wish death upon me then get in line.
Innumerable individuals wish me harm,
Into the street they
want me dragged by the arm.
Then when I am surrounded they will systematically and manically take my existence,
And
make my arrogant tongue finally fall to silence.
They hate my voice for I speak the truth,
Which has been my curse since
my early youth.
I do not humor their stupid remarks,
I refuse to obey their commands and barks.
They are mangy dogs
where I have evolved,
I leave them alone while in my life they stay involved.
Leave me be, for years I have made it
on my own,
If you are just going to hinder my life then I would rather be alone.
I forgive all of you for all that you
have done,
And as soon as I can again spread my broken wings I will be gone.
The Sinner, The Saint
I am
not one that Heaven would claim-
A sinner who’s Midas touch can spread only woe-
My signature- a frown, my ink-
pain
I only encountered their contempt and disdain-
They can only bring me more sorrow-
So when it comes to everyone,
I am to blame.
Because of this curse I bear the blame-
At least that was my mother’s repetitive claim-
I,
alone, am the cause of sorrow-
Solely the origin of all of the world’s woe-
They look down at me while I look
on in disdain-
I am glad I’m the source of their pain.
I must also be responsible for my pain-
But for
mine it is them that I blame
It’s my turn to look on with disdain
I perhaps truly am cursed just like they all
claim-
But while they pretend that I bring woe-
They constantly bring me to tears and to sorrow.
Since childhood
I have had sorrow-
Am I solely the prime suspect of my own pain?
I am the only cause of mine and others woe
How
can it be that I am to blame?
The one only Hell would ever claim-
Look at me now mother, look at me with disdain.
For
I also look on with disdain-
Looking at how I alone brought you such sorrow-
That is, dear old woman, what you claim-
That
I am responsible for everyone’s pain-
But I have a new culprit that you can all blame
It is you who bring yourselves
this woe.
My reverse Midas touch is not the cause of woe-
It’s my turn to look on with disdain-
You, yourselves,
are the ones who bear blame
I am only, perhaps, the cause of my sorrow-
Listening to you brought on this pain-
Perhaps
now my essence, serenity shall claim.
Released from woe, goodbye to sorrow-
No longer looked at with disdain;
goodbye to pain
I bear no blame; innocence I claim.
The Damn’dest Thing
One day my life came crashing down,
In the rain I thought I’d drown.
The
next day it only got worse,
I had to leave inside a hearse.
I thought it couldn’t get any worse from there,
Then
I asked for a seat in Heaven but they didn’t have one to spare.
Then I was sent down to Hell where the heat was enough
to smother,
I asked how could this possibly get any worse—Oh! Hello mother.
My Method of Madness
I don’t say half the things
I think and don’t mean half the things I say,
Come down the rabbit hole- please don’t delay.
Falling to
insanity- come bring a friend,
I promise I won’t bother you until we reach the end.
The end of my wit is the end
of the road,
Welcome to my cranium- delusion’s abode.
I can’t drive my self crazy; I don’t have a
license,
Can’t stop the voices because I don’t like the silence.
You call me mad but I laugh incessantly,
You
say I am deranged but I react pleasantly.
Come get in my plane and leave all the rest,
Together we can fly over the
cuckoo’s nest.
Don’t square dance because I am going in circles,
You want me to behave rationally- well
I have never been one for miracles.
Nutty isn’t the word or haven’t you heard,
When these life saving hallucinations
occurred.
“Turn that frown upside down,”
Immersed in visions- I will drown.
Please remove this awfully
tight straight jacket,
They say I have gone loopy, but I’d rather go to the moon in my rocket.
Loony- now your
just calling me names,
I enjoy wearing these glasses; they make me look smart even though I only wear the
frames.
For
the crystals shattered long ago, splintered mind no one can hold,
Jokers Wild-I have to fold.
Passionate, crazy, insane,
fanatical,
Look towards mind- altering drugs—now your thinking is rational.
Dark tendencies replace logic and
practicality,
It is as useless to me as, well... reality.
Smiling at strangers while walking up a wall,
My brain
didn’t show up when my body had roll call.
Berserk, berserk, I have but one quark,
That is that my brain won’t
work.
Insane, maybe, chill out lady,
My actions, for some reason, have always been a bit shady.
Out of my mind, and
off the page,
Do not place me in that cage.
Little Bo peep lost her sheep,
Well, I lost my marbles (isn’t that
clever and deep).
But when it comes to my mental state do not weep,
I just need a little sleep.
Immortality lost to Reality
I am never one to fail,
Until
driven in my coffin is the final nail.
When I consciously said this is my goal,
And this will be my final role.
I
am no stranger to achievement,
And I never strayed too far from bereavement.
Fallen, broken, I am alone,
For reasons
that to me are still unknown.
I will be known by all someday,
Where there is a will, there is my way.
I will be the
one to write the darkest tragedy,
And although liked only by a few, I will be known by everybody.
They will say my name
yet about me they will know nothing,
Never to again be an underling.
I never listened to authority,
Lived in chaos;
never knew serenity.
Lost, unloved, and forgotten,
Wicked, mentally advanced, and rotten.
Orphaned by those that
I came to love,
I hope that I have the favor of the One above.
Out of the shadows, my words infiltrate your mind,
Answers
to life’s hardest questions I wish to find.
Curious by nature, wicked through nurture,
Forced to grow up fast;
forced to mature.
This is all about myself that I will divulge,
I hope in my own notoriety I will some day indulge.
But
perhaps, that is not to be my fate,
And I will die before my time, for my chance came too late.
Never to be known, never
to make a difference,
Just cursed with that eternal silence.
My poems, never being published, will never have the chance
to be heard,
Not even a single word.
Stories not yet written will go unfinished,
My entire existence would then be
diminished.
I would just be one headstone in a sea of millions,
A star that flickered out never being seen; then just
one out of billions.
Look up at my lonely star in the darkest part of the sky,
All because I had to untimely die.
I
was cocky, but never really all that good,
I always wasted more time than I should.
Now its over, and I have done not
one thing,
And I deserve it and forever I will be nothing.
Luck, Love,
and Loss
Gambling made me a fortune,
Addiction took it away.
If someone is going
to save me,
They better not delay.
Nightmares haunt me during the day,
Insomnia at night.
I will not find
peace,
Until I am resting in the light.
Drugs were never my escape,
Life has always been my foe.
I have never
gotten high,
Because my income is rather low.
Can’t live like this,
Can’t afford reprieve.
Can’t
stand the one in the mirror,
Who, for me, will always grieve.
I saw what I could be,
While I look at what I
am.
I am now a wolf,
When long ago I was a lamb.
The hunter finds its prey,
It is always me.
Although
I too am a predator,
I am still tortured viciously.
I will soon find love,
It’s resting on my grave.
To
this world- goodbye,
From the one it couldn’t save.
Black Bile Vapours
Fevered
nightmares haunt the night,
Leave me praying for the light.
Please, O Sun, rescue my thoughts,
Endorphins should
flow, but instead in my brain the chemical rots.
Eyes that can only gaze upon the obscure,
And for my melancholy there
seems to be no cure.
O Alchemist, please create an elixir to free me,
To make pleasant these horrifying images that
I see.
Tears, like cataracts, flow endlessly from my eyes,
And choking back so many that no one can hear my muffled
cries.
Horrible hollow ache that emanates from my soul,
Depression has certainly taken its toll.
No friends or family
left to burden with my countless dilemmas,
Unpleasantries in the same league as drowning, pressing, and enemas.
In my
shoes may no one have to walk a mile,
Because then you shall choke on what is known as Black Bile.
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