Drops of gold
In the stream
Silver sold
To my dream

Drops of blood
In the flood
In motion
Emotion.

Grey temple
Fine apple
Delusion
Illusion

Pure bubbles
Six shuttles
To the door
Of my moor

Raw and rare
Disrobed to
The white air
And for you.

As the rhyme
Plays with time
Pushed aside
Kept inside

Vanishes
Turned into
A taboo
For the night.

I lay there
By the pool
Whilst my sphere
Is spooling

Speeding up
Round and round
Filling up
The pale pond.

As I freeze
The soft breeze
Of the thought
I have fought!

August 1, 2014

My love, my words tonight are weak yet ablaze
My emotions are trapped and lost in a maze
But my heart beats recalling yours, and I am fainting under your grace
This space between your tender arms is by far my favorite place

Do you know how your kisses are fresh and new-born roses?
Touched by the drizzle in a February dawn
Do you know how your voice sounds as though a lyre rises
Do you know how your hair is sparkling to reflect a lovely fawn?

My love, I have sunk my soul in the swell of your sight
And your hands wrapped tightly around my waist is such a delight
That cuddled so close to you, this poetry becomes breathtaking
And my heart releases for you this passionate flow, gushing.

Angel, over the hills and far away I wish you could return to me
Allow me to hearten and heal you with my melody
Oh, on your stars are engraved this memory of us, fascinating canopy
My love, each time I am staring at the obsidian sky you are shining endlessly ...


June 2012

Looking for Snoopy

Rollin’ on that rhythmic rollercoaster
My knuckles dead white, I can’t
Lose it on this lightspeed slant
Of fire, feeling those flashes
As the thunder thrill goes faster

Are you diggin’ what I’m sayin?
I ain’t gonna scream, got some
Dignity under this blue dome
Are you shakin, it’s bootin’
You ain’t got time for tremblin’

I’m targetin’ the sparklin’
Sky full of that shinny gold
So I can start believin’
I’ll reach someone I hold
Dear in my throbbing heart

Are you diggin’ what I’m sayin?
I ain’t gonna tremble until I touch
The silvery stars to rush
My present to your present
In the myriad of the moment
A doggie you’re still drawin’

Turns out I found this fellow
Surviving on this swayin’
Spinning track trippin’
I put him in papers that glow
To your doorstep delivered
Hope you’ll enjoy, recovered

That merry memory
Packed with awesomeness
Allow some silliness
From California and me
Happy birthday Mommy
With love and pink cherry

February 15, 2015

On a chilling winter night
The quill slips and icy, has to fight
I wrap my frozen heart around a shawl
And frost traps my ink which freezes too.

However, inside, my body burns with desire
Making me tremble like red hot magmatic fire
But this poor quill, alas
Numbed in this weather is exhausted already!

The flame of my candle flickers and weakens
Inspiration shows a passing fancy and she wants to be desired
I’m going to break free from this heavy inertia
But how? Everything is still and tired!

Oh cruel globe! Why is my soul so mute?
She was able to drench me in its natural artistic flood
I can’t believe in her sudden inactivity
What’s going on, I’m going numb in my blood!

Oh you my muse, spread your silky artistic veil
Over my being beseeching you to save it
Oh you, my well of inspiration and mystical words
I implore you, listen and come to my bedside, hail!

But why is everyone, Heavens, deaf to my call?
Just who is willing to hear my plea of despair and silence
No one can revive this depressing poetry and her fate
Loneliness, to the four winds I’m going to dislocate!

In a certain hour of a chilling winter night
I’ve let my writing expire at my workbench
Farewell then, poetry, fie!
In my night I fade away and nothing muffles my plight!

But with this new dawn, don’t you cry my muse
I’ll write  with you,  I’ll be in your care
And we’ll content ourselves with sweetness, laughter and schemes
I’ll once again respond to your vital needs

However, aura of happiness and joy
I simply won’t do it tonight, but finally,
Don’t fret and rest in my dreams, hopefully
Tomorrow I’ll worship you, unconditionally!

Written on August 26, 2010,
Translated on November, 13, 2017

https://squirrels2poet2queen.deviantart.com/art/C-section-714557319

UNPUBLISHED

I’m sick of crying ‘fore a scene
In a delivery room
When the father who was obscene
Realizes his ***** went through

It came and dried and released it
A child into the world it perforated
My mother’s belly. A decision an incision
Paternity eternity morality depravity

The ****** broke like Mom’s waters
Soft you once asked me if I had ever seen
A man’s walking *****, Solanas is less obscene
Everything I’ve never told you is burning

Dad from 0 to 17
Bitter is the thought of your existence
Linked with a silver ink I excruciatingly link
My despair to my abhorrence
From scene to obscene I remain your sin

Your daughter I am, the third of your children
You let them fade slowly, we fend and defend
Our roots we deny you, we cry for you
******* pulsating **** you ain’t my end

Nov, 11, 2017
Lyon

A faint scent, that of a

wetted perfume, arises from the

body that’s writing there

in a white enameled bathtub

a body shuffled by the sub

way– a pen in hand

not using another purple hand

soap. It ponders on the people’s

purple perfume lathered on their faces

“Smile good, else we’re all ashes”



Wet hair, naked *******

all seen on T.V and billboards

Silence– rarely heard in between

the pen’s strokes. Hands between thighs

purple faces buried there

in a white enameled bathtub.

Water drained, in the middle, drenched bills

Cover up the laughed at body of the economy

Feed her with Monsanto and let her hear Trumpets.



A faint scent arises from the American

Body that’s… drowning there

a silky hand of… blue ribbons of… politics

gripping at her panicked throat!



In a Lyon bathtub paper and pencil, October, 16, 2017

Courteous love knows the charm

Of the loved body’s pleaded sheet

Upset before a well of tears

He is the first to complain



Friendly love whistles a gay tune

in her glory, mischievous

She appreciates powdered saloons

And many a silly mischief



Sensual love and his perfumes

Reads on purple lips

The screams and sighs at the frontier

Of a bliss– It’s morning already!



Translated on October 27, 2017

Lyon

Inspired at the thought of Laurentin