The Lemur is enthroned on the heights of an island
In a luxurious villa, complete with a sauna and a pool
The Dormouse holds, modestly, a small pharmacy
Where people can buy necklaces, gemstones and pretty threads.

Every Monday morning the lemur fixes
His hair with a delicate ivory comb
Asks about the stock market in overflow
Swallowing a pure white powder in a row

His orange eyes threaten to explode
So he sits down, eats lobster and sated,
He doesn’t have a care in the world as descends the evening
His paw resting on a black jade cane stolen from the dormouse

Monday morning, the lemur, operational
Goes fast, pick and pickaxe at the mine
Extracting, sweaty, some beautiful spinel specimens
Hoping that one day at the Lemurian’s he would dine

For a trifle, the latter bought him
His most beautiful crystals and this without paying taxes
He became the leader of the island thanks to his kinsmen
The exotic animals knew something was wrong…

His only friends were the rich and the bohos
Under the yoke of this monkey, the island was a hellhole
Their chef was addicted to coconut powder
Whoever dared to say it was put in irons

When finally, an evening he overdosed
Nobody buried him among his friends
The Dormouse humbly undertook to do so
At the hole where he dug, he found a stone

The moral of the fable, listen to it then,
Who shows compassion exists with reason
Do not judge too fast, because we're leaving too early
Nature often rewards us in her own way.

September 11, 2019
Nancy, translated on November 17, 2019

Besieging the circle of an above-ground fort for its light
The cold, sharp wave storms the lighthouse
Robust turret of stones in the middle of nowhere
Off La Rochelle or Le Finistère

And she, agitated, is indeed seavage!

Quietly approaching the canoe on sand
Hope of coconuts, hammocks in palm trees
This tropical land would come from a fable
Mix of lava and water, the Piton has risen!

And she, struck, flies in white vapors!

Reducing the life of country smugglers
She is often tombs of ill-fated Ulysses
How far away she seems, then, the boot of Italy,
For those who have left everything, dreaming of being born there!

And this crossing does not offer a visa!

Stifling pitifully under floating *******
The gray sea without corals is emptied of its life
Only the abyssal fish do not see how
On the surface, belugas find the time long!

And she, once a sanctuary, became compost!

Inspiring, from the foam, the writings of the poet,
Sea, Ocean Blue, Aegean and beautiful Seychelles,
Because without it, our life would have been so thin
In our inner worlds, its flow always calls back!

And she, stained, becomes crystalline again!

See in these painting our vital element
Exhausted, neglected by our great laziness
For it to be paradise and not only distress
Let's save the coastline, fragile like an opal!

Translated on November 2019
Nancy

Fall train rolling through the landscape
While people dig the ground for gold
And weapons to poorest countries are sold
Ice water becoming scarce on Earth
We shroud pollution from our eyes to escape
The truth that nature is running out
We diligently put flowers and green in our hearths
To surround ourselves with virtual images of life
Hiding the truth that humans are running out

Yet money is made out of tree paper
And CPUS run thanks to extracted crystals
And sure Google has a plan if all else fails
Gas is waging wars but soon it'll be for water
If we go extinct nature will always prevail
There will always be higher oceans to sail
Grass with grow and outreach skyscrapers
Will your children ever see polar bears?

A pine tree of 42 years of age was cut down
What if your mother was exhibited 'fore town hall
To be decorated with garlands, lights and all?
Then ditched, naked without her verdoyant foliage
Once healthy, now dusty at 42 years of age?

If our universe was reduced to 14 seconds human time
We'd only represent 1 second, yet the hourglass
Is about empty, we don't have hearts of glass
Eternal we aren't, unlike a diamond or a lime
We are expected to not just make an impact
But save, recycle, protect, nurture and act!

Not anything too complicated
What a parent would do for their child
Humanity, now has come the time to be lucid
Otherwise, at the end, all that's left will be decrepitated!

November 9, 2019
Train to Lyon

Rainy day of August
Body soaked in water
Blood spilled on the globe
Newspaper, bold typewriter
Announcement: We all trust
Our firms going down the *****
Conscious failures activated
We are up and running
Alarms and seers devaluated
The clock, tick tock, is turning

Oblivious with our existence
We collect data to combat the sentence
"Climate change is an orchestrated plot"
Our oceans swell with our pollution
Take a drag citizen, ‘tis the finest ***
"Global warming for sure is an illusion"
Get down, gulp down the pill of nothingness
Fertile ***** matter, for a ravenous press
Rise with me poets, let’s stand before the storm
This is also with words that awareness we form!

What’s your imprint upon this land
Things do not end as you become sand
This Earth sure will survive grass above our mass
Stones will crumble yet nature will not pass.  

Nancy, August 17, 2019

Some prose poems patched in his hands
Suddenly then, ecstasy or hypnosis faces him!
As he was reading, bathing in scents of cedar
She stands before him, disrobed, Phaedra-like and solemn!

He mouthed those lines while blossomed within him
A garden of secrets, rustling beeches
The mused muse came to visit him when
Every morning he read on, gold upon her head

He never put the velvety book down
The air heavy with laughter, desires, and rhymes
The Western wind gently rocked them as they held
Each other…Yet as the last poem echoed, she adamantly fled!

Translated on April 17, 2019
Nancy, France

I thrive to travel
to unravel
a hidden gem,
a curled-up stem,
a somber flower,
Only I can pluck.
her pungent smell,
oceanic swell,
arises in the night,
Half-darkened, half alight.

It has blossomed with pain
turned sky-rain into blue
radiating of survival
And it is not purely evil:
glowing with a queer hue.

‘Tis I this flower I describe
To a Leo born to be bride
Sighing star of a scorpion
Faithful to love for an aeon.

December 26, 2018
Train to Nancy

It’s joy crumbling down
Smelling
the faintest air of anger
Tumbling
tumbling down into molten
lava, melting, melted down
small ash, turned burning fire
Desperately stunned, joy is stolen.

A snake shushing the silence
facing this combat with but resilience
The sun is scratched stuck to the sky
it rains often, rivers of black tears to cry

She says she’s anxious
He deems her obnoxious
She wants to expurgate
this ill feeling, feeling of hate
She’s born with. A heavy burden
that’s hard to tame, tear or soften.

Humanity
isn't defined
by immunity
I have secrets left behind.

November 18, 2018
Written between 10:44 pm and 11:07 pm.
Lyon