30 Dec 2012
29 Dec 2012
Joy at work
"Joy was her name
A life un-wedThirty years old, Never danced a stepShe would have left these red hillsFar behind if not for her conditionWould have left these red hillsLong ago if not for my conditionPitiful joyShe looked awayInto a hollow skyCame face to faceWith her own innocence surrounding her Until it never was a questionInnocence so suffocatingNow she cannot move, no questionNo hope for joyNo hope or faithShe wanted to go blindWanted hope to stay"I've been believing in nothing since I was bornIt never was a question"No !"
24 Dec 2012
until the end
Even though the world did not end, even though it was ridiculous they ever wondered whether it would, no one, no history, no politics, no mortgage, no unemployment, no divorce, no break up, no new love, no lashes whilst waiting for the bus, no wet cold fringe under icy fingers, no shiver down their spines would ever ever and I say ever brush away, fade, blur, fake, steal, break, understand, use, tell; those perfect few days they shared completely with a faraway glimpse of a funnily plausible armageddon. In love with all, with one, with the end, with every beginning, finally with their selves in each other's tender eyes.
12 Dec 2012
30 Nov 2012
29 Nov 2012
que ponds-je?
La Fin de l’automne
Tout l’automne à la fin n'est plus qu’une tisane froide. Les feuilles mortes de toutes essences macèrent dans la pluie. Pas de ferment- ation, de création d'alcool; il faut attendre jusqu'au printemps l’effet d’une application de compresses sur une jambe de bois.
Le dépouillement se fait en désordre. Toutes les portes de la salle de scrutin s’ouvrent et se ferment, claquant violemment. Au panier, au panier! La Nature déchire ses manuscrits, démolit sa bibliothèque, gaule rageusement ses derniers fruits.
Puis elle se lève brusquement de sa table de travail. Sa stature aussitôt paraît immense. Décoiffée, elle a la tête dans la brume. Les bras ballants, elle aspire avec délices le vent glacé qui lui rafraîchit les idées. Les jours sont courts, la nuit tombe vite, le comique perd ses droits.
La terre dans les airs parmi les autres astres reprend son air sérieux. Sa partie éclairée est plus étroite, infiltrée de vallées d’ombres. Ses chaussures, comme celles d’un vagabond, s’imprègnent d’eau et font de la musique.
Dans cette grenouillerie, cette amphibiguïté salubre, tout reprend forces, saute de pierre en pierre et change de pré. Les ruisseaux se multiplient.
Voilà ce qui s’appelle un beau nettoyage, et qui ne respecte pas les conventions! Habillé comme nu, trempé jusqu’aux os.
Et puis cela dure, ne sèche pas tout de suite. Trois mois de réflexion salutaire dans cet état; sans réaction vasculaire, sans peignoir ni gant de crin. Mais sa forte constitution y résiste.
Aussi, lorsque les petits bourgeons recommencent à pointer, savent-ils ce qu’ils font et de quoi il retourne, – et s’ils se montrent avec précaution, gourds et rougeauds, c’est de connaissance de cause.
Mais là commence une autre histoire, qui dépend peut-être mais n’a pas l’odeur de la règle noire qui va me servir à tirer mon trait sous celle-ci.
(Francis Ponge, 1942)
Tout l’automne à la fin n'est plus qu’une tisane froide. Les feuilles mortes de toutes essences macèrent dans la pluie. Pas de ferment- ation, de création d'alcool; il faut attendre jusqu'au printemps l’effet d’une application de compresses sur une jambe de bois.
Le dépouillement se fait en désordre. Toutes les portes de la salle de scrutin s’ouvrent et se ferment, claquant violemment. Au panier, au panier! La Nature déchire ses manuscrits, démolit sa bibliothèque, gaule rageusement ses derniers fruits.
Puis elle se lève brusquement de sa table de travail. Sa stature aussitôt paraît immense. Décoiffée, elle a la tête dans la brume. Les bras ballants, elle aspire avec délices le vent glacé qui lui rafraîchit les idées. Les jours sont courts, la nuit tombe vite, le comique perd ses droits.
La terre dans les airs parmi les autres astres reprend son air sérieux. Sa partie éclairée est plus étroite, infiltrée de vallées d’ombres. Ses chaussures, comme celles d’un vagabond, s’imprègnent d’eau et font de la musique.
Dans cette grenouillerie, cette amphibiguïté salubre, tout reprend forces, saute de pierre en pierre et change de pré. Les ruisseaux se multiplient.
Voilà ce qui s’appelle un beau nettoyage, et qui ne respecte pas les conventions! Habillé comme nu, trempé jusqu’aux os.
Et puis cela dure, ne sèche pas tout de suite. Trois mois de réflexion salutaire dans cet état; sans réaction vasculaire, sans peignoir ni gant de crin. Mais sa forte constitution y résiste.
Aussi, lorsque les petits bourgeons recommencent à pointer, savent-ils ce qu’ils font et de quoi il retourne, – et s’ils se montrent avec précaution, gourds et rougeauds, c’est de connaissance de cause.
Mais là commence une autre histoire, qui dépend peut-être mais n’a pas l’odeur de la règle noire qui va me servir à tirer mon trait sous celle-ci.
(Francis Ponge, 1942)
21 Nov 2012
19 Nov 2012
Le Message
La porte que quelqu'un a ouverte
La porte que quelqu'un a refermee
La chaise ou quelqu'un s'est assis
Le chat que quelqu'un a caresse
Le fruit que quelqu'un a mordu
La lettre que quelqu'un a lue
La chaise que quelqu'un a renversee
La porte que quelqu'un a ouverte
La route ou quel'qu'un court encore
le bois que quelqu'un traverse
La riviere ou quelqu'un se jette
L'hopital ou quelqu'un est mort
(Jacques Prevert, Paroles, 1949)
Hangup
aye bit naw
nawbit
aye bit
away
away yi go
whut
mini whut
minimalism
aw minimalism
minimalism aye
aye right
aye right inuff
aye right inuff definitely
aye bit
naw bit
a stull think yi huvty say sumhm
(Tom Leonard)
16 Nov 2012
13 Nov 2012
Freedom aint from Moscow
This music from the
south
This muse has some
learn, mosly mouth to mouth
This mule could be
called stubborn, and lazy
but in a clever sort of
way
this new could be
working, waiting, and learning and planning
for a sacred kind of
day
the day
when burning sticks and
crosses
is not mere child's
play
but a madman in his
most delicatescent bloom
whose lover's soul is
imperfection
in its most lustrous
gloom
So stand,
Fast young Romeo
Fast young Romeo
Soothe in contemplation
Your burning whole and
aching thigh
Your stubbornness, ever-living
And cruel anxiety has
begun to die
So stand,
Fast young Romeo
Fast young Romeo
Stand fast
9 Nov 2012
30 Oct 2012
Reign
Because she thought she was going to save him. Or probably she was trying to save herself. The Swedish princess to fall and offer the lost saint a taste of the sweetest fruit, so generously, really. She would love to know how she tasted to him. So prohibited and far away she was. He tasted like life to her. Like his smell under his shirt. Like his lips that could crush her. But she was stronger than him, really.
She loved how he could decapitate her with a look. Slit her throat and still not be satisfied. He would never be satisfied. It's in his blood, and in her genes. They never would satisfy each other. They would fight until the end, then they would be free. In heaven or hell it didn't matter. This was hell already. And heaven. This was it now. They were here. Maybe she tasted like death to him. A slow determined spider. Weaving to stop his movement. To one day reign supreme, alone.
She loved how he could decapitate her with a look. Slit her throat and still not be satisfied. He would never be satisfied. It's in his blood, and in her genes. They never would satisfy each other. They would fight until the end, then they would be free. In heaven or hell it didn't matter. This was hell already. And heaven. This was it now. They were here. Maybe she tasted like death to him. A slow determined spider. Weaving to stop his movement. To one day reign supreme, alone.
28 Oct 2012
25 Oct 2012
14 Oct 2012
10 Oct 2012
7 Oct 2012
window to within
Angel of History, I can see for miles. John Russell, 2011. Offsite project, Focal point gallery, Southend
27 Sept 2012
29 Aug 2012
Hard Breezes
On the hills of Brockley
sometimes,
I can hear the mediterranean
laugh.
In a glance, overcast,
in a fish scale on the pavement,
in the smell of wash powder
in the breeze,
in the little echo of a hammer
on a beam..
and I wonder
how very hard it must be,
though the wind gets stronger
and agrees with me,
how very hard it must be still,
to ever sniff jamaica
in these wide
English streets.
sometimes,
I can hear the mediterranean
laugh.
In a glance, overcast,
in a fish scale on the pavement,
in the smell of wash powder
in the breeze,
in the little echo of a hammer
on a beam..
and I wonder
how very hard it must be,
though the wind gets stronger
and agrees with me,
how very hard it must be still,
to ever sniff jamaica
in these wide
English streets.
25 Aug 2012
7 Aug 2012
Free Style
"lt is not enough to think, one also has to breathe.
Dangerous are the thinkers who have not breathed enough."
6 Aug 2012
11 Jul 2012
10 Jul 2012
comme une grande
A woman is like a piano,
if she's not up(r)tight,
she's grand.
(Graffiti- Reclam, 2004)
7 Jul 2012
To Ring ---- To Fly
1
And now the house flew.
And now the dog flew.
And now the dream flew.
And now the garden flew.
The horse flew.
The bathhouse flew.
The balloon flew.
Now the rock starts to flying.
Now the stump starts to flying.
Now the moment starts to flying.
Now the circle starts to flying.
A house flies.
A mother flies.
A clock to fly.
A hand to fly.
Eagles to fly.
A spear to fly.
And horse to fly.
And period to fly.
A forehead flies.
A stomach flies.
Oh-no, catch it- the ear is flying.
Oh-no, my monks- the mouth is flying.
2
The house rings.
The water rings.
The rock nearby is ringing.
The book nearby is ringing.
Mother, son, and garden ring.
A rings.
B rings.
THAT flies and THAT rings.
The forehead rings and flies.
The chest rings and flies.
Hey, monks- mouth is ringing!
Hey, monks- forehead's flying!
What to fly, but not to ring?
The ring is flying and to ring.
THERE is flying and ringing.
Hey, monks! We're to fly!
Hey, monks! We're to flying!
We're to fly and THERE to fly.
Hey, monnks! We're to ringing!
We're to ringing and THERE to ring.
Danil Kharms (1930)
And now the house flew.
And now the dog flew.
And now the dream flew.
And now the garden flew.
The horse flew.
The bathhouse flew.
The balloon flew.
Now the rock starts to flying.
Now the stump starts to flying.
Now the moment starts to flying.
Now the circle starts to flying.
A house flies.
A mother flies.
A clock to fly.
A hand to fly.
Eagles to fly.
A spear to fly.
And horse to fly.
And period to fly.
A forehead flies.
A stomach flies.
Oh-no, catch it- the ear is flying.
Oh-no, my monks- the mouth is flying.
2
The house rings.
The water rings.
The rock nearby is ringing.
The book nearby is ringing.
Mother, son, and garden ring.
A rings.
B rings.
THAT flies and THAT rings.
The forehead rings and flies.
The chest rings and flies.
Hey, monks- mouth is ringing!
Hey, monks- forehead's flying!
What to fly, but not to ring?
The ring is flying and to ring.
THERE is flying and ringing.
Hey, monks! We're to fly!
Hey, monks! We're to flying!
We're to fly and THERE to fly.
Hey, monnks! We're to ringing!
We're to ringing and THERE to ring.
Danil Kharms (1930)
22 Jun 2012
Novo Tempo
How can I tell you
the avalanche of Life
the intelligence in elegance in so many styles
I am falling
in love with people
more and more
every day
Because the harder you treat us
The better we pray
the avalanche of Life
the intelligence in elegance in so many styles
I am falling
in love with people
more and more
every day
Because the harder you treat us
The better we pray
31 May 2012
La Laitue Nue
2 LCD screens, blue pallet
calabash, jerrycan
tin lunch box, 3 glass plates
mini surveillance helicopter
26 May 2012
25 May 2012
21 May 2012
16 May 2012
No One Understands The Pain
It appears no one understands
It looks like no one cares
For all around me is silent
Like death's foul grip on me
No one bothers to ask
Seems too busy to ask
Yet all around me is silent
And deep within me lies the pain
So intense so excruciating
Overwhelming still not departing
Like a scorpion's fatal sting
Like a snake's deadly venom
O pain, o pain forever to stay?
Let me know if you may
As a wound in my heart
As a knife through my back
No one seems to understand
No one seems to care
I can feel you right inside me
For deep within lies the pain
2011, Evelyn Pindura
It looks like no one cares
For all around me is silent
Like death's foul grip on me
No one bothers to ask
Seems too busy to ask
Yet all around me is silent
And deep within me lies the pain
So intense so excruciating
Overwhelming still not departing
Like a scorpion's fatal sting
Like a snake's deadly venom
O pain, o pain forever to stay?
Let me know if you may
As a wound in my heart
As a knife through my back
No one seems to understand
No one seems to care
I can feel you right inside me
For deep within lies the pain
2011, Evelyn Pindura
On Burroughs' Work
The method must be purest meat
and no symbolic dressing,
actual visions & actual prisons
as seen then and now.
Prisons and visions presented
with rare descriptions
corresponding exactly to those
of Alcatraz and Rose.
A naked lunch is natural to us,
we eat reality sandwiches.
But allegories are so much lettuce.
Don't hide the madness.
San Jose, 1954, Allen Ginsberg
and no symbolic dressing,
actual visions & actual prisons
as seen then and now.
Prisons and visions presented
with rare descriptions
corresponding exactly to those
of Alcatraz and Rose.
A naked lunch is natural to us,
we eat reality sandwiches.
But allegories are so much lettuce.
Don't hide the madness.
San Jose, 1954, Allen Ginsberg
8 May 2012
6 May 2012
THE DISCIPLE
THE DISCIPLE
When Narcissus died the pool of his pleasure changed from a cup of
sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, and the Oreads came weeping
through the woodland that they might sing to the pool and give it
comfort.
And when they saw that the pool had changed from a cup of sweet
waters into a cup of salt tears, they loosened the green tresses of
their hair and cried to the pool and said, 'We do not wonder that
you should mourn in this manner for Narcissus, so beautiful was
he.'
'But was Narcissus beautiful?' said the pool.
'Who should know that better than you?' answered the Oreads. 'Us
did he ever pass by, but you he sought for, and would lie on your
banks and look down at you, and in the mirror of your waters he
would mirror his own beauty.'
And the pool answered, 'But I loved Narcissus because, as he lay on
my banks and looked down at me, in the mirror of his eyes I saw
ever my own beauty mirrored.'
(Oscar Wilde)
When Narcissus died the pool of his pleasure changed from a cup of
sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, and the Oreads came weeping
through the woodland that they might sing to the pool and give it
comfort.
And when they saw that the pool had changed from a cup of sweet
waters into a cup of salt tears, they loosened the green tresses of
their hair and cried to the pool and said, 'We do not wonder that
you should mourn in this manner for Narcissus, so beautiful was
he.'
'But was Narcissus beautiful?' said the pool.
'Who should know that better than you?' answered the Oreads. 'Us
did he ever pass by, but you he sought for, and would lie on your
banks and look down at you, and in the mirror of your waters he
would mirror his own beauty.'
And the pool answered, 'But I loved Narcissus because, as he lay on
my banks and looked down at me, in the mirror of his eyes I saw
ever my own beauty mirrored.'
(Oscar Wilde)
2 May 2012
monhamme
Ma petite ame
Elle est jolie
Ma petite ame
Elle a mal ici
T'y mets ton doigt
Pour sentir sa plaie
Il s'ensanglante
Et ca te plait
Elle est jolie
Ma petite ame
Elle a mal ici
T'y mets ton doigt
Pour sentir sa plaie
Il s'ensanglante
Et ca te plait
30 Apr 2012
where else
We start from the end
We gotta start somewhere
Since we finished
Since we are done
We gotta start
Here
We gotta move again
Soon
Or else we'll die
Or else we died
Or else you killed me
Or else I ate you
Or else we cried
Or else we fought
Or else we lost, we lost, we lost
We gotta start somewhere
Since we finished
Since we are done
We gotta start
Here
We gotta move again
Soon
Or else we'll die
Or else we died
Or else you killed me
Or else I ate you
Or else we cried
Or else we fought
Or else we lost, we lost, we lost
Mars et crève
J'ai apprit a me relever plus vite
des coups manqués de Mars
le guerrier
Je sais que ce n'est que l'envie de dominer
qui l'anime
un besoin d'arrêter les élans chez moi
qu'ils trouvent si attirants pourtant.
A présent je peux reconnaitre, esquiver, être frappée, rigoler
l'espace d'un soupir,
joyeuse.
Fais-moi-s-en de plus belles!
J'te connais, vieux!
J'ai apprit a ne plus regretter les caresses
manquées
Ne plus manquer les rendez-vous mal donnés
ne plus attendre le souffle court l'attention réflective
du narcisse avare de compliments
il n'en a jamais assez
et finit toujours par nous étrangler, nous engloutir tous les deux
haletants et perdus,
les mains vides,
les bras ballants,
la tête lourde et sonnée
cloche brisée
résonnant de tout ce rien.
Voila tout
ce qu'il nous a laissé a toi et moi,
Narcisse
avant de s'acheminer a nouveau
vers d'autres amants en fleur,
ceux qu'il préfère bien,
pour manger l'écho de leurs coeurs a eux
et les murmures de leurs heures communes.
Il se nourrit de la tendresse autrui
il mache il mache et s'achemine une fois finit.
Tout ce qu'il veut c'est mâcher de plus belle
et sucer encore l'amour
de deux âmes bientôt en peine
qui le remercieront, pourtant,
de les avoir libérées au fond.
Et s'en iront vers de nouveaux horizons,
seules.
des coups manqués de Mars
le guerrier
Je sais que ce n'est que l'envie de dominer
qui l'anime
un besoin d'arrêter les élans chez moi
qu'ils trouvent si attirants pourtant.
A présent je peux reconnaitre, esquiver, être frappée, rigoler
l'espace d'un soupir,
joyeuse.
Fais-moi-s-en de plus belles!
J'te connais, vieux!
J'ai apprit a ne plus regretter les caresses
manquées
Ne plus manquer les rendez-vous mal donnés
ne plus attendre le souffle court l'attention réflective
du narcisse avare de compliments
il n'en a jamais assez
et finit toujours par nous étrangler, nous engloutir tous les deux
haletants et perdus,
les mains vides,
les bras ballants,
la tête lourde et sonnée
cloche brisée
résonnant de tout ce rien.
Voila tout
ce qu'il nous a laissé a toi et moi,
Narcisse
avant de s'acheminer a nouveau
vers d'autres amants en fleur,
ceux qu'il préfère bien,
pour manger l'écho de leurs coeurs a eux
et les murmures de leurs heures communes.
Il se nourrit de la tendresse autrui
il mache il mache et s'achemine une fois finit.
Tout ce qu'il veut c'est mâcher de plus belle
et sucer encore l'amour
de deux âmes bientôt en peine
qui le remercieront, pourtant,
de les avoir libérées au fond.
Et s'en iront vers de nouveaux horizons,
seules.
La femme artiste doit si souvent se confronter a la peur que l'homme a de sa créativité.
A moins qu'elle ne soit hors de son atteinte et qu'il la considère comme muse.
S'il l'aime, si elle est sienne ou tout comme, il ignorera les fruits de son imagination, le rythme perturbant des pulsations de ses visions.
La femme doit apprendre a arroser son propre jardin et le protéger du regard jaloux de son époux.
La femme doit apprendre qu'elle n'est plus uniquement
femme a manger
femme a ranger
femme a aimer
femme a baiser
Elle doit apprendre a s'aimer
toute seule
dans le silence des miroirs
et de l'horizon si noir
sans fléchir
ni trop réfléchir pourquoi
elle doit continuer a créer
pour créer
pour ça.
S' échapper des doigts qui l'attirent par plaisir
tout en poussant racine jusqu'au firmament.
A moins qu'elle ne soit hors de son atteinte et qu'il la considère comme muse.
S'il l'aime, si elle est sienne ou tout comme, il ignorera les fruits de son imagination, le rythme perturbant des pulsations de ses visions.
La femme doit apprendre a arroser son propre jardin et le protéger du regard jaloux de son époux.
La femme doit apprendre qu'elle n'est plus uniquement
femme a manger
femme a ranger
femme a aimer
femme a baiser
Elle doit apprendre a s'aimer
toute seule
dans le silence des miroirs
et de l'horizon si noir
sans fléchir
ni trop réfléchir pourquoi
elle doit continuer a créer
pour créer
pour ça.
S' échapper des doigts qui l'attirent par plaisir
tout en poussant racine jusqu'au firmament.
27 Apr 2012
19 Apr 2012
a nous deux
elle se blottie dans son cou
tandis ce qu'il se prepare
de nouveau
a la guerre
lui sussure-t-elle des insultes
ou des saintes prieres?
Mon Zaze
J'ai embrassé l'anarchie
et brisé mon coeur de toutes mes forces.
Il miroite a présent
comme une rose des sables de tessons de bouteille
et brisé mon coeur de toutes mes forces.
Il miroite a présent
comme une rose des sables de tessons de bouteille
10 Apr 2012
in my Burrough
in my burrough
dans mon territoire
on ne fait pas de salade
on broie du noir.
a naked lunch is natural to us
we eat reality sandwiches
but allegories are so much lettuce
don't hide the madness :
dans mon territoire
on ne fait pas de salade
on broie du noir.
a naked lunch is natural to us
we eat reality sandwiches
but allegories are so much lettuce
don't hide the madness :
the beginning & the end
a beginning has no end, beginnings have no end.
Nor is there any thing more astonishing more touching & more disturbing, than these efforts of the human spirit to break through darkness towards the light, through what is meaningless, towards a meaning, to break its way through the servitude which necessity imposes, towards freedom. Man measures his powers with the universe, and in the act of knowing seeks to rise above the limiting conditions and the solid massiveness of the world.
He can recognize light, meaning, and freedom for the sole reason that light, meaning, and freedom are there within his very self.
(...)
I want to survey all problems in the light of eschatology, in the light which streams
from the end.
and to look for the darkness that streams from the end?
I found the well I felt groping
I'm going back to the blues
Because it feels good
Nor is there any thing more astonishing more touching & more disturbing, than these efforts of the human spirit to break through darkness towards the light, through what is meaningless, towards a meaning, to break its way through the servitude which necessity imposes, towards freedom. Man measures his powers with the universe, and in the act of knowing seeks to rise above the limiting conditions and the solid massiveness of the world.
He can recognize light, meaning, and freedom for the sole reason that light, meaning, and freedom are there within his very self.
(...)
I want to survey all problems in the light of eschatology, in the light which streams
from the end.
and to look for the darkness that streams from the end?
I found the well I felt groping
I'm going back to the blues
Because it feels good
upset the inkpot
Gentleman- You know perfectly well the human body soaks up rain like a sponge. Put your raincoat on.
(they each put a black gabardine raincoat)
Lady- Why are these gabardines so black? Once they were green, or yellow, I forget.
Gentleman- I upset the inkpot over them. Even with the pumice stone, I couldn't get the stains out. Then, so they wouldn't be noticed, i gave both the coats a complete soaking in ink. Perhaps it's because of these gabardines that everything looks to you so dark, so black.
(the lady & the gentleman open their umbrellas, also black, they are both trotting along & sheltering from the rain)
(they each put a black gabardine raincoat)
Lady- Why are these gabardines so black? Once they were green, or yellow, I forget.
Gentleman- I upset the inkpot over them. Even with the pumice stone, I couldn't get the stains out. Then, so they wouldn't be noticed, i gave both the coats a complete soaking in ink. Perhaps it's because of these gabardines that everything looks to you so dark, so black.
(the lady & the gentleman open their umbrellas, also black, they are both trotting along & sheltering from the rain)
la monstre
If she were not I
I'd say she's a monster
Because she's an I
I know she's a monster
Looking on the pavement
For signs symbols & fates
Fata fatina te
Fatina Fatta te
Crickets & wild murmurs
Marked the sleep of childhood
Today she's jittery
Can't find peace
Can't find peace
If she'd made a pact in the night
in the sleep of her reason
Would she know it today?
Would she tell herself now?
Woke up just before dawn
Thoughts wide open like a
lie.
In bed she turned there in silence
Images. It is them.
Faces. Smiles. Words & thoughts.
A million battles fought
Never war won.
It was all. C'etait tout.
That will be all, thank you.
I'd say she's a monster
Because she's an I
I know she's a monster
Looking on the pavement
For signs symbols & fates
Fata fatina te
Fatina Fatta te
Crickets & wild murmurs
Marked the sleep of childhood
Today she's jittery
Can't find peace
Can't find peace
If she'd made a pact in the night
in the sleep of her reason
Would she know it today?
Would she tell herself now?
Woke up just before dawn
Thoughts wide open like a
lie.
In bed she turned there in silence
Images. It is them.
Faces. Smiles. Words & thoughts.
A million battles fought
Never war won.
It was all. C'etait tout.
That will be all, thank you.
dormir les yeux ouverts
tu t'es arrete de parler
et seul le silence t'as repondu
et ces mots, ces millions, ces milliers
de mots qui se sont arretes dans ta gorge,
ces mots sans suite,
les cris de joie, les mots d'amour, les rires idiots,
les cris de joie, les mots d'amour, les rires idiots,
quand donc les retrouveras-tu?
Maintenant tu vis dans la terreur du silence
mais n'es-tu pas le plus silencieux de tous?
les monstres sont entres dans ta vie.
Grey Ah Kay PPP
Grey Ah
Kay PPP
If I don't speed up
il me rattrapera
he/it will catch me up
drag my feet under its breath
where I will suffocate
& stay alive for as long as
forever
there is no end
until a new beginning
if i never scream
i will never find it
never fight it
never get it
just there behind the door
the negative of all that moves
sat here on my lap
& grabbing at my neck
can you hear it it's just there
just here i said
look
why don't you look
it's eaten you
Kay PPP
If I don't speed up
il me rattrapera
he/it will catch me up
drag my feet under its breath
where I will suffocate
& stay alive for as long as
forever
there is no end
until a new beginning
if i never scream
i will never find it
never fight it
never get it
just there behind the door
the negative of all that moves
sat here on my lap
& grabbing at my neck
can you hear it it's just there
just here i said
look
why don't you look
it's eaten you
9 Apr 2012
Mouth to Mouth Illuminations
Has the beat begun?
The beat and soul
Have to begin for us to find love
the beat & soul
have to resound for something to happen
Pharaoh come back!
Pharaoh come back!
Patti come back!
Antonio come back!
Allen come back!
Louise cooooooooome back!
Albert, Albertine, Zazie
Carmelo, P.P, L.F
Blaise, Charles, Arthur,
Come Baaaaack!
Let us mooooove
in another dimension
I am staaaaaaarved of the other directions
I hurt my ears playing radio too loud searching for all the messages
Give me Soul my soul is screaaaaaaming
Ah yes pour it all over my slashed head
Let it bubble with joy & hope & spurt oceans of blood & rhythm pounding up from my rubber heart
Am I all alone?
Is there anybody heeeeeeeeeere?
Run come take me
But let me freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Like acrobats' elegant impossible saults around death & machinery
I want to reinvent the rope & tight walk of warrior steps' muscled legs I am ready for the steps
Ready for the step steps
Dance my dear dance
How beautiful to love and not possess
Alone I say
I feel the thousand hands of brothers & sisters
“Welcome to the other side, ma soeur”
Thank you sorella! I feel good here.
To shape our every wish with the colours of others visions and yours and yours and yours
E quando dipende da noi, obedire. To decide, when it doesn't depend on us, and when it does, obey.
A perpetual dialogue irruption rephrase recomprehension intuition explosion jubilation reconsideration illumination from mouth to mouth
mouth to mouth illuminations Yes!
Inverted Odysseys take us to where the grain was good
and the wheat too
where we water our eyes with the light of love
I see it man
I can see there is love in this frame, and that one too, and irreverence, and grace, and Power and resolution
So much power the crows stole it Ah!
They so fast
They so hungry
They so angrrrrrrrry
We can fly
But we be aaaaaaaangry too
we more relevent
we more eloquent
Here's to you, Foo!
The beat and soul
Have to begin for us to find love
the beat & soul
have to resound for something to happen
Pharaoh come back!
Pharaoh come back!
Patti come back!
Antonio come back!
Allen come back!
Louise cooooooooome back!
Albert, Albertine, Zazie
Carmelo, P.P, L.F
Blaise, Charles, Arthur,
Come Baaaaack!
Let us mooooove
in another dimension
I am staaaaaaarved of the other directions
I hurt my ears playing radio too loud searching for all the messages
Give me Soul my soul is screaaaaaaming
Ah yes pour it all over my slashed head
Let it bubble with joy & hope & spurt oceans of blood & rhythm pounding up from my rubber heart
Am I all alone?
Is there anybody heeeeeeeeeere?
Run come take me
But let me freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Like acrobats' elegant impossible saults around death & machinery
I want to reinvent the rope & tight walk of warrior steps' muscled legs I am ready for the steps
Ready for the step steps
Dance my dear dance
How beautiful to love and not possess
Alone I say
I feel the thousand hands of brothers & sisters
“Welcome to the other side, ma soeur”
Thank you sorella! I feel good here.
To shape our every wish with the colours of others visions and yours and yours and yours
E quando dipende da noi, obedire. To decide, when it doesn't depend on us, and when it does, obey.
A perpetual dialogue irruption rephrase recomprehension intuition explosion jubilation reconsideration illumination from mouth to mouth
mouth to mouth illuminations Yes!
Inverted Odysseys take us to where the grain was good
and the wheat too
where we water our eyes with the light of love
I see it man
I can see there is love in this frame, and that one too, and irreverence, and grace, and Power and resolution
So much power the crows stole it Ah!
They so fast
They so hungry
They so angrrrrrrrry
We can fly
But we be aaaaaaaangry too
we more relevent
we more eloquent
Here's to you, Foo!
Pasque Pasquetta
There are fools who have seen the madonna and fools who never have seen the madonna. I myself am a fool who has never seen the madonna. All is there: to see the madonna, or not to see her. San Giuseppe da Copertino, guardian of pigs, made his wings whilst looking after his own clumsiness. And in the nights of prayer he would gain the altars of the virgin, mouth open, flying. Fools who see the madonna have improvised wings, they can even fly, rest on the ground, like a feather. Fools who do not see the madonna do not have wings. Negated to flight, they fly nonetheless, then instead of resting they fall back like someone with lead around their ankles wanting to get rid of it, deciding to cut his own feet and dragging himself towards saviour under the scorn of the guardians who rightly trust his imminent hemorrhage to stop him. But those who see, do not see that they see, those who fly are themselves, the flight. Who flies does not know oneself, a done miracle annihilates them, more than seeing the madonna, they are themselves the madonna they see. This is the ecstasy of a paradoxical demented identity which empties the orator of his subject and in exchange deceives him to the objectification of his self, into another object. (...) being saint is to loose control, to renounce weight, and weight is to measure one's own dimension. (...) who has never thought of death, might be immortal. (...) But the fools who see the madonna do not see her. Like two eyes staring at two eyes through a wall, a miracle is transparency, sacrament is this madness, because a blinding faith has shut these eyes. (...) And the eyes saw sight. A glance. Either man is so blind, or god is objective. The fools who see, see in a vision of themselves, with the variants which faith brings: if worm, they see themselves butterfly again, if puddle, clouds, if sea sky. And in front of this alter ego they kneel as if in front of God. They confess to a second sin. Divine is everything they have unconsciously learned of themselves. They have seen the Madonna. Saints. The fools who do not see the madonna hate themselves, they seek elsewhere, in their neighbour, in women- in the comfort of day to days of prayer- and this brings to a myriad of altars. Passionate of communicative, they do not bring God to others to receive themselves, they bring themselves to others to receive God. Humility is the prime condition. Our contemporaries are stupid, but to bow down at the feet of someone more stupid than them means to pray. This is how we pray today. As always. Keeping company with the more talented does not mean nearing oneself to the absolute no matter what. To be kinder than the kind. To finally be the biggest fool. Religion is an ancient word. For now let us call it education.
(Carmelo Bene, from Our Lady of the Turcs, my own translation)
(Carmelo Bene, from Our Lady of the Turcs, my own translation)
8 Apr 2012
all let go
J'écris je m'écries je cré ce cri desesperé de faiblesse. J'essaye de trouver la clé de perte. L'accord d'abandon. La note de séparation, sel dans les yeux.
And so it starts
Il est une affection des choses non advenues
Il est la comprehension du destin et the escape du reve des autres ou du reve ou nous tentons d'emprisoner certains
La vie vie son train
nous ecrivons
la vie bat son pouls
nous recevons
la vie chante
nous fredonons
Let it all go
The woman sat with her unborn child on her lap and stroke his head. Where was it to take her, this path? The child would know. The child would show her. But he is not here, and so there is no child, just paper, and black marks.
If sadness felt better it is because it is true. Lies inside make us uneasy and complicated. How delicate is that.
Cette langue me tue. Eh ben tire la!
She pulled the tongue of the cat that had got her love. And threw it away in the dirt, so it could grow into a tree of tongues and sway in the wind making bizarre voices. Scary to some, soothing to others, there for sure.
Love cometh and leaveth away
it started to howl...
or maybe Love comes and takes everything...
it howled on the hill.
And so it starts
Il est une affection des choses non advenues
Il est la comprehension du destin et the escape du reve des autres ou du reve ou nous tentons d'emprisoner certains
La vie vie son train
nous ecrivons
la vie bat son pouls
nous recevons
la vie chante
nous fredonons
Let it all go
The woman sat with her unborn child on her lap and stroke his head. Where was it to take her, this path? The child would know. The child would show her. But he is not here, and so there is no child, just paper, and black marks.
If sadness felt better it is because it is true. Lies inside make us uneasy and complicated. How delicate is that.
Cette langue me tue. Eh ben tire la!
She pulled the tongue of the cat that had got her love. And threw it away in the dirt, so it could grow into a tree of tongues and sway in the wind making bizarre voices. Scary to some, soothing to others, there for sure.
Love cometh and leaveth away
it started to howl...
or maybe Love comes and takes everything...
it howled on the hill.
Masol
L'amour est masochiste. Ces cris, ces plaintes, ces douces alarmes, cet état d'angoisse des amants, cet état d'attente, cette souffrance latente, sous-entendue, a peine exprimée, ces mille inquiétudes au sujet de l'absence de l'être aimé, cette fuite du temps, ces susceptibilités, ces sautes d'humeur, ces rêvasseries, ces enfantillages, cette torture morale ou la vanité et l'amour-propre sont en jeu, l'honneur, l'éducation, la pudeur, ces hauts et ces bas du tonus nerveux, ces écarts de l'imagination, ce fétichisme, cette précision cruelle des sens qui fouillaient et qui fouillent, cette chute, cette prostration, cette abdication, cet avilissement, cette perte et cette reprise perpétuelle de la personnalité, ces bégaiements, ces mots, ces phrases, cet emploi du diminutif, cette familiarité, ces hésitations dans les attouchements, ce tremblement épileptique, ces rechutes successives et multipliées, cette passion de plus en plus troublée, orageuse et dont les ravages vont progressant, jusqu'à la complète inhibition, la complète annihilation de l'âme, jusqu'à l'atonie des sens, jusqu'à l'épuisement de la moelle, au vide du cerveau, jusqu'à la sécheresse du coeur, ce besoin d'anéantissement, de destruction, de mutilation, ce besoin d'effusion, d'adoration, de mysticisme, cet inasouvissement qui a recours a l'hyperirritabilite des muqueuses, aux errances du goût, aux désordres vaso-moteurs ou périphériques et qui fait appel a la jalousie et a la vengeance, aux crimes, aux mensonges, aux trahisons, cette idolâtrie, cette mélancolie incurable, cette apathie, cette profonde misère morale, ce doute définitif et navrant, ce désespoir, tous ces stigmates ne sont-ils point les symptômes mêmes de l'amour d'après lesquels on peut diagnostiquer puis tracer d'une main sure le tableau clinique du masochisme?
(extrait de Moravagine, Blaise Cendrars)
(extrait de Moravagine, Blaise Cendrars)
4 Apr 2012
le silence est d'or
and not a word spoke the goldfish in answer,
it just swished its tail, and in silence
disappeared in the depths of the ocean.
il dort,
alors je me tais.
it just swished its tail, and in silence
disappeared in the depths of the ocean.
il dort,
alors je me tais.
26 Mar 2012
le loriot, toute vie, l'eclair me dure
Le loriot entra dans la capitale de l'aube
L'epee de son chant ferma le lit triste.
Tout a jamais prit fin.
Toute vie qui doit poindre acheve un blesse'.
Voici l'arme,
rien,
Vous, moi, reversiblement
Ce livre,
et l'enigme
qu'a votre tour vous deviendrez
dans le caprice amer des sables.
Comment dire ma liberte',
ma surprise, au terme de 1000 detours:
il n'y a pas de fond,
il n'y a pas de plafond.
(rene char)
L'epee de son chant ferma le lit triste.
Tout a jamais prit fin.
Toute vie qui doit poindre acheve un blesse'.
Voici l'arme,
rien,
Vous, moi, reversiblement
Ce livre,
et l'enigme
qu'a votre tour vous deviendrez
dans le caprice amer des sables.
Comment dire ma liberte',
ma surprise, au terme de 1000 detours:
il n'y a pas de fond,
il n'y a pas de plafond.
(rene char)
25 Mar 2012
Feindre
AutoPsychoGraphie
Feindre est le propre du poete
Il feint si completement
Qu'il en arrive a feindre qu'est douleur
La douleur qu'il ressent vraiment.
E os que leem o que escreve,
Na dor lida sentem bem,
Nao as duas que ele teve,
Mas so a que eles nao tem.
E assim na calhas de roda
Gira, a entretener a razao,
Esse comboio de corda
Que se chama o corazao.
(fernando pessoa)
24 Mar 2012
23 Mar 2012
29 Feb 2012
26 Feb 2012
the merry go round
Under the benediction of the triumvirate:
Mary goes round and round and round again
Curses disguised as blessings
Disguises blessed as curses
Blessings cursed as disguises
Blessings disguised as curses
Disguises cursed as blessings
Curses blessed as disguises
24 Feb 2012
22 Feb 2012
Le fell-oeuvre
Des yeux d'encre déchue
qui pleuraient des crystaux de lune
me fixaient dans un rêve
encastré dans un autre
La lune est bien dans le ciel bleu
Elle m'appelle.
Pourtant je suis déjà bien à elle
Juste, que ça ne me déboussole pas.
Mon double nez
Fait que je sois née en double
vois double
voix
et fait briller deux soleils
simultanément
Jusqu'à skills explosent
dans un feu d'artifice
Géant.
Jusqu'à ce que je les avale sous l'eau
Et les transforme en oxygène d'argent
qui pleuraient des crystaux de lune
me fixaient dans un rêve
encastré dans un autre
La lune est bien dans le ciel bleu
Elle m'appelle.
Pourtant je suis déjà bien à elle
Juste, que ça ne me déboussole pas.
Mon double nez
Fait que je sois née en double
vois double
voix
et fait briller deux soleils
simultanément
Jusqu'à skills explosent
dans un feu d'artifice
Géant.
Jusqu'à ce que je les avale sous l'eau
Et les transforme en oxygène d'argent
21 Feb 2012
Ascet
Ascet
Assert
Insert the key?
No.
Ascet
Accept
Inspect the fate?
No.
Ascet
Collect
Intercept the sceptre?
No.
Ascet
Direct
Your mind to love
Ouch
Donnez-nous aujourd'hui notre pain quotidienne
Pain
Pain.
Our daily pain.
Give us today our quotidienne pain.
Forgive us our offenses
As we forgive those who have offended us
Today
Tomorrow
And the day after again
Pain.
Our daily pain.
Give us today our quotidienne pain.
Forgive us our offenses
As we forgive those who have offended us
Today
Tomorrow
And the day after again
3 Feb 2012
The mountain bleeds under no flag
1 B gives chord
London wastelands picked apart by magpies and crows
kaarrr karrr karrrr
hit me, hit me with another blow hit me high & hit me low
poetry in the megapole is bruised and punched through and through hurried and rushed and put a genoux
poetry in motion? yeah, poetry at war poetry in front of jerusalem walls
grim dirty wasted insanely unjust reality
shoved in everybody's ears eyes, noses n stomachs
high definition bullshit badly defined warfare
VARIATION (B stand)
(B)it is taking back the anger it is looking back for truth
laughing at power just perched here on my shoulder
after being in my lungs making my breaths short and sour transforming my legs into concrete towers
imposing its lust for control on the minutes and the seconds of my every single hour
VARIATION (G stand)
3 -1
G
Back from the land of the dead? More wide awake in the middle of it.
This is just the premise, a life of perfecting, keeping free and sharing the word,
like the precious treasure that it is, like the creature of magic that we all know it is,
I will let my pen flow until thoughts run free under winds of simplicity
in fields of grass and dirt cause every word has a higher meaning
and we all have a lower being
VARIATION (B Stand)
B
These Sunday morning writings will wash my blues away
Like you fuck my pain away
Like you love my pain away
That place between our breasts is to be watered, fed, and rested
so petals of seaside flowers fly out of our braziers
when we take them off to be men.
Aint no burning needed anymore
all illusion is down and the stage puppets are naked
like the most humile brothers coming and going in Peace
Except these are grinning, these are shining and glistening under their own television spots
They're winning Nigger, they won.
Let them glisten though
VARIATION (G stand)
G
let them shine
Im just too fine to time anybody's turn
Oh can I play now, can I play ?
I ain't playing and I don't live for working.
If you're afraid of emptiness, beat it, I'm not.
VARIATION (B stand)
B
I love silence, I love void, I love stillness like a mountain that I don't overstand
that i am too little and dumb to ever remotely starting to grasp its absolute being
that beautiful word meaning everything everywhere in a particular dot (no music)
absolute (G stand)
dot
absolute
dot
absolute
dot
absolute
dot
.
.
.
.
30 Jan 2012
20 Jan 2012
Bleak
Of the primeval Priests assum'd power,
When Eternals spurn'd back his religion;
And gave him a place in the north,
Obscure, shadowy, void, solitary.
Eternals I hear your call gladly,
Dictate swift winged words, & fear not
To unfold your dark visions of torment.
19 Jan 2012
RAP
Bang! Set me Free!
I follow your hand
As it slaps the air
My feet tap in time
Strippin my soul bare
When I feel that call
Of the wild unknown
My excitement knows
That the jungle grows
It's the chaos cry
It's the smooth within
It's the freedom call
Of man and his sin
For from bright to dark
We all learn to shift
I'm a fucking juggler
And this is ma gift
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