dimanche 1 mai 2011

Lift darkness by colors that vanish


If I am a bird of lust and wisdom, same way

the noirceur of a sharp crow

than the circus look of parrots

because I do not know the use of mankind in detail

and my house is a cloud as myth take the phone to say

this song the slave and the aged whore fail

to execrate as an everyday disease of ear

them used to mankind song do not bear

the circus lock is a secret parrot spoke

the stranger bird came with few words

whispers and a cough of suspicion

let in me tonight be the twilight crow and give me raw

your oh of womanly respect for the black feather of night vision

give me raw flesh of your every day unjewelled ear

give me raw kisses on my strange parts made of air

because I am a male fair emprisoned in outer space of nature

I belong to the merchant, mainly to his wife and mother

used to funeral songs and feeding of me nervous

your house is called memory, hebrew letters and gifts I left

the door was open and the bird had too much spoken

uncontrolled cloaca explained love by shitting in the chair

and back a broad sickness left by fair on a red stair

by vomishing liquid and seed about solutions you need

crow's hand took yours as the phantom of a birth and a lick in your skin

mascara of a ceremony to erect your chin until you would sing or cry

insipid nabel oh how me crow I can about shiver

trembling certitude of hard syllabation on my heat

handing in strength the length of a sofa rapture

between you and your man my name confound

as I am the sound of tortured troubled cloud I rain a loud

repetition of time in signs and castles in Spain


7 commentaires:

Marie-Agnès Michel a dit…

birds mainly don't sing anymore

they shit on forbidden chairs

my friend is a poet I said

in the full room of his words

Manuel Montero a dit…

friendship of birds

eating of bees in the cosmic doom

still blue, yet mare night as a word

is thaate sheet we ate

thick shit of law thaate hate made

and so weird

Manuel Montero a dit…

Missing the existence of your tongue

appearing to my thirsty taste

Marie-Agnès Michel a dit…

strange songs

of strange angels

thirst is not only a word

thirst is the inferno of their throats

Manuel Montero a dit…

to wed turquoise

shivering throat of damnation

sang the bloody marriage of death and youth

and the thirst by night was saliva watered

non existent virgin is unknown spine of moon

Manuel Montero a dit…

the crow then parroting by heat

staring mouth of horn at her plexus

said sweet things

as if concealing a priestess,

a dancer too delicate

Manuel Montero a dit…

c'est tout ce que je sais
moche vérité
moche elle se sentait
la nue vérité


je te confesse ?
que veux tu que je te confesse ?
non, alors je sors ce qui sort
non plus, je cherche le pire de tout
et j'inonde le confessionnel
un tuyau bouché
des contorsions pas possibles
le souffle coupé


ça se passe toujours à minuit mon indienne
ma princesse indienne enfin sans bottines
des chaussetes
tu sais que je n'oublierai
tes chaussettes


serenade oblige
confession avec guitare
j'ai fait ...
j'ai fait des choses
ha ha ha ha
le cul de la guitare
enfin mes mains
son en train de pincer six cordes
l'une les soumet
l'autre les stimule
et la paume frappe
le corps sonore et la ceinture creuse
les bourrelets
je pense que j'ai joué comme-ça


dans une autre rue