Cleopatra, you hold your rose
So distant, but also so close
From your fertile feline *******
As you nonchalantly rest
Enjoying these men’s final breaths.

Your beauty is hellenistic
Plague of Troy, yet, Spartan grace
You breathlessly in your embrace
Pierce their left hearts, o,despotic
Queen of Egypt, bride of The End

Your exposed ***** still displays
Your bored wetness and cruelty
So they can picture the foreplays
They will last see in Agony
“Mercy, iconic royalty!’’

Your maiden’s body at your side
Is shaken by Thanatos’ tide
For she knows about your queerness
Melting in this morbid madness
For your cruel carnal caress









Queer Queen, bitten you have become
Enslaved and bound to a man’s Rome
So a snake to touch you chose
Let me tell you Damascus rose
You fell for Marc’s male-female love!

For the ******* perfume you drank
Humiliated in your chambers
Do you feel the burning embers
You have been marked with, and the fers
To defend and keep your high rank!



April 7, 2015,
Riverside, California

Yes, I am nowhere near me
Ghostly guts, a tear-gas eye
Watery, blurry, glassy
Empty shell of an hourglass
Yet my soul sands still can see
A boisterous love that I
Only find petty, prissy
Through the white scattered mass
Of that blank body you blessed
I’d rather levitate than feel
This past present of peace pressed
Against my longing lips and heal
With a flask of forgetfulness
I’d rather be true to my pulse
Than break it all on an impulse
Leaving the once-too–happy shell
In a now dim and ***** dell

For this is in sorrow only
That you’re around yours truly.

November 17, 2015
Villeurbanne

My hand is grazed by thin scattered bits of a flask
As my skin is kissed by the cursed flow of the ether
The red line of the sliced vein melts with the ember
Of the cruel poison if you put down your mask.

The perfume descends down my warm palms
Engraving on it its lethal bite,
My mind reaches a new height
As my soul screams in spams.

Collapsing in a gasp of air, in a long gauzy gown
Creased like a shroud to welcome a body at auction sold
Like a flower-shaped corolla poured out against some gold.

At the temple of agony, convulsing painfully
In the sacred desire of her mortal folly
Corrupted creature, ***** in her Dream
And of her life stops the stream.

Freshman, College of Humanities. Joffre, Montpellier. Translated on May, 9, 2014.

Aux Nuits de Pékin,







Pékin ! Il est déjà trop ****, le nom est prononcé
Je suis emportée dans tes tourbillons colorés
J’ai vu des saphirs, des jades de glaise
Mais ai fuis, hélas ! A mon coeur ce malaise !

Comme une passive résilience
Sans reste là- Et reste le silence…





To Beijing’s nights,

Gates to Oblivion


Beijing - Already too late - it is said,
I am whirled up into your luminous flows,
I have seen sapphires, jades of clay,
I fled alas! Now my heart is torn!

It was like a passive resilience,
Apart from me, the rest is silence…

May 11 2012
Montpellier, France

To the victims during the Boston Marathon, April 15, 2013,

Children of Boston
Children of Euston
Children of Kingston

Boys of Mesa
Boys of Tuy Hoa
Boys of Kalba

Teenagers of Kyoto
Teenagers of Toronto
Teenagers of Lesotho

Wives of Berlin
Wives of Kremlin
Wives of Yulin

Humans of the world
Let us spare one word

Let us pray,
From Larissa
To South Kensington
From Tokay
To Grafton

Humans of the world
Let us spare one word

For the children of Boston.

April 15, 2013
Montpellier, France

Apparently, it was like an apparition
            He eyed me, ***** in his wilderness
        Heaving me to the haven of his handsomeness
            Him, my male, my marvelous malediction

His Eye seeing my I inside the aperture
    Of his “camera’’, when our room was nature
        But plunged in the ocean of his sea, see
              Like two heroes wrestling on the coastline
     We rose naked, his fingertips skimmed my spine
Between skies and waters, with our furious epitome

       We made love to the waves, alike Eteocles
       The current circling our chromatic compositions
             Our tongues watery, our limbs exhausted
  In this hopeless happiness, we stroke our passions
On the rough wood of Pan’s harp, oh Polynices!
     Cursed by a kiss, blessed by a blow and exulted    
By the smooth summits of our souls and bodies    
Seduced by the sweetest sin, singing our silent rhapsodies


      My name is Miguel, I am not Michael the archangel
         But he certainly was. In the warmth of
the wave lays my angel.


November 13, 2014
Inspired by the movie by Javier Fuentes-León, ‘’Undertow’’ or Contracorriente (2009)

Are they all going to slay us in their hateful blood?
Are we all going to bend a knee to their threat?
I hear that the borders of my beloved country
Are being closed to avoid more of this lethal salvo
Dearly beloved Liberty! Scorn faces Man and Man is unstoppable!
Should it be one’s duty, should we pass a law that forces people to love the other?

Tonight, in November 2015, my thoughts go to those
Who will dare fighting back under the lethal threats of these down-and-outs
Tonight, in November 2015, my thoughts go to those
Who, tired out, cry out with their eyes the tears of farewell…


Lyon, 0:30 am, November 14, 2015- translation