mardi 26 juillet 2011

lost poem

lost poem in the cinder of fotographs
nine pills a day to pay memory the skin of these eyes
making babies in a voiture madness
rust and dust to recover a past that hides
the man must have a rest and the Sierra will be warm
nor you do know than him the deer hunt be sweet
the broid of a spider percussion on your face
nine truths on effective peyotl to learn faster yet
these are reflections on a moving pound you told
lost poem to tell again a slow motion pain haze
cunts and sperm a teacher a saint
cunts and sperm salt and pepper fried egg
cunts and sperm Jesus Christ on a boat indian of the plains
cactus eating friend
sculpture appeal in a landscape
pulpous kiss of happyness

Let’s forget La France
cultivated water on the WC trash actors at the Elisée
no stone no grass no brain
together to piss in the night to cross the Père-Lachaise
let me live your life the TV said
let me possess your eyes said the CLAVIER
and the medecin-man sleeping on a mush-room INONDÉE

I had a nightmare today
in the passing of a song my favourite musician married a cochon
her image appeared everywhere and mostly the cochon
I finished sleeping with the beat “ILS SONT ARMÉS”

Fear God do not missaround
insurgé sound flushing blood from ear to ear
a fever cured with gaz and tears
do not missaround do not touch ground on the pound
as the croissants and the whores give you a smile le matin
be sure you’re right when you’ll die tonight of a pill overdose

Cracking chair the air of fair

you desire to awake elsewhere

don’t you want to be there ?

The Moon waiting upstairs

dressing your chest’s hair with a bit of dispair

the toon is simple, yes sir

Paradise and Hell who cares ?

A musician use to be boring and unfair

as abuse of music is mystically a bon affaire

Otium nostrum magnum est negotium

Father don’t you think is time to go to sleep ?

Your cell breaks out to bip you’re listening FIP

and I like to peep you’re lonely consolation

feeling serenade je vous fais part of an off office mood
fixe idée nom prénom asthmatique
à scander lentement
sur un fauteuil noir et blanc
hard shapes the dawn spared knows
errors are castles and battle-falls with no order
if error use me if error I’m here
communion communiste départ pour Sibérie et la plage
(Fanfan La Tulipe et la pipe de tes fans COLEGA)
spitting inside a paper cheaf not supposed to write
a leaf in love is less than smoke for joke sadness is high
feeding the bare bakers of the bar Haldol drop by drop and vinegar and mustard green of Japan
as I see my thought arise in signs on the screen
as I pin my nerves to no dream
who are you Father in this Art of chess ?
suspected to be is a bee lady by
panther by father bride exterior
will you die to my eye to my lies ? Salomon and his wisdom
you took it easy cat in blue
your meaning seems to be Les litanies de Satan
or whatever moisted fuck of your past
full color scroll turning fast
black magic star on the wall
having the lesson of the frying-pan
painting undone singing sin silenciously
this is music this is kind of MY KIND NO KIND
this was a poem and listen what you’ve done as you’re gone
to M*** to H*** to LOVE

birds try to talk, as castles try to walk
all covered with ANGST oh grow plant, grow
dove Sun Uranus Pluto more tequila to solve the test
stress is for free, you can go zen in the West
make a vow to the tree just for fun
finish your poem and run



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