You’ve published your rhymes in print


That’s the shortest way to put it

On a shelf. Now the book proudly lives

Through the eyes of those who read its lines



I wonder why some saw some sun in my blue night

After I did. Darkness and light where? always here

Unequally balanced, always starting a fight

The aesthetics of my mentors, my atmosphere



From France to Bei-

Jing to the Sea

Ty by the Bay

I write swell





The ocean is organic

Odyssey, *******

With the liquid it lifts

And lies back down

Both an eden and an abyss



So is my soul, swerving

In the current, red like,

Redcurrant

Poetry is debased

That is, recurrent.



August 30, 2017

Lyon

Life
Baffled.
What befell
Our civilization
Is hell. There is no heaven
When religion is mistaken
For a token of radicalism.

Death
Rejoiced
What brought her
Our people
In a living inferno.
There is no pourparlers
With terrorists and benighted
Souls.

Manchester
These people are heathens
No virgins await them up the heavens
But the cold-blooded sight of a bleeding earth
Stigmatizing those out there who protect their hearths
In tears, facing the West
This is a waste of our so called civilization

Jews
Muslims
Christians
Buddhists

We aren’t.
We are humans.

In the aftermath of the deadly attacks that befell Manchester Arena, May 23, 2017.
Lyon

A night nest

A curled up cat
On my days out purse purring
Our daily rain around him pouring
He’s the white bunny under the black hat
Smelling the everlasting smell
Of the ravenous squirrel that ate
From my extended hand a plump nut
The fluffy rodent gone, there’s nothing left but
The imprint of the squirrel’s paw for the cat, late
At night, he pervades himself with the fur, like Icarus
When driven heavenward didn’t see the sun and fell
The cat is sound asleep, he doesn’t notice us
He chases the squirrel, quiet down! – He’s dreaming!

March 14, 2016
Guillotière, Lyon

A marble stone perspires
Naked among a hall of flames
Its soul slowly expires
Melting under the fires
Art among a hall of all blames.

Marred, o meandering mind
Attached, and tainted by human kind
Grazed and abused by God's gold gaze
Numbed and mumbling in a maze
Irked, taken by the moral bind
Fearing this fool felony
Idling to be once loved again
Collapsing in agony
At you goes this poetry
Trying to tear apart your pain…


March 20, 2013

Find
Bind
That light
At night
This white glow
This wild flow
To your mild mind
To your mauled kind
If you are a man
Even a woman
This light will just skim you
This wave will just bless you
And as you are wondering
And as you are pondering
Where on Earth it must have gone
By which hand it had been done
One minute, the seconds have died
Wait! But alas, you have not tied
This escaping light to your body
This everlasting odd energy
Your bitter tears are just about to drop
Soul, your stronger desire was to crop
A light lump of this eternal infinite
A little drop of this nectar to ignite
The shadowy details of your long existence
Your jewelry lost its original essence
Tainted, dirtied, grazed by this running running out time
Though nothing has frozen however here comes the rime
So if this life is a so-called perfect symmetry
Yes, everything fades away, everything but poetry
For it knows the silent, hidden, pure chemistry
To be stronger than this bustling busy clock
When it experiences the writer's block
A verse is waiting to be created
A unique page awaits to be crafted
While against it has lost forever
The time. It has reversed the order
This universal unity
Flares up under the canopy
And in your room, inspired
Your footsteps never tired
You are following it
You are capturing it
It has surrendered
You were not gathered
With this blind mass
It shall not pass
The border
Oh writer
Here is
Iris
Found
Round
∞

May,11, 2013, onboard a train to Paris

The Boat-Bridge floats over the Bay
Devilish hell-colored titanesque
Sailing sophisticated red ray
Hefty, gargantuesque
Passage, tied to the fate
Of angels –Golden Gate .

The aqueermarine City
In Baker’s hues revives
The aquamarine beauty
Of Athena’s visionary eyes
Home found fond Exodus
On top of Castro –Olympus
I touch the bridegroom’s bustier



The Boat-Bridge burns, becomes lustier
In this marriage of many a desire,

It consumes my soul, I come

To: San Francisco, –my heart-home.

March 31, 2015
San Francisco, California

We're old friends, already
Whirled up in the wheel of time
A pacing symphony  
Passing through the telephone  

For hours on end.  
We do not deter from this trend  
Rhythm and rhymes, reunions and recusancy  
Always together, and on the same frequency

In a second we crisscross the ocean  
Building up our literary scene    
Our secret and permitted panacean  
Ointment, we've never once foreseen

That we're old friends, already  
Your wise heroes advisers of my own  
We share so much tenderness  
With which we could clothe dawn.

Written to  John Maloney,  
July 5, 2018  
Lyon, France

Are my hearts reaching roots and trees?

I feel it quiver deep down inside
A continuous ****** I can't abide.
You whispered you would stay by my side
But you're gone,  you've withdrawn,  like the tide.

And my mind feels that gap, when it cries
Left to the emptiness of the void.
Beware, I may get paranoid
Have you ever believed in your lies?

I feel it giggling getting higher
And it shows you I was tougher
Than this little sweet teen you cuddled
Than this hugged high school girl you hurdled

And my mind rejoices, when you say
That I was nought but a heap of hay.
Whilst you've made sure to keep me at bay
Are you a little more noble than clay?

The more one sees from men you're the lees
The more I will feel free from your fees.
While you are standing up on your glees
Are my laughters  reaching roots and trees…

Father?


July 14, 2013
Onboard a train from Lyon to Montpellier.

A take on violence

The exiling waves of life
Battered a Syrian child
Swept ashore. We scrolled.
We shrugged this violence.

Eyes glued to a simulacrum of love
Expecting the controlled dominance
Of a filthy rich fictional character
We said: “It’s vanilla.”

Violence as an idea is sweetened
You gulp down the pill
But violence as a means is condemned
You still gulp down the pill.

March 6, 2018
Lyon 1 University

love  like  night  soul=  body  knowS  oh  words  2015  heart:  b­lack  time

tellS"  sound  want  say  dear  gonna  just  feel  desire...  thi­nk,  baby"

poetry light  away  kiss  gave  

way  day  america!   mind  beauty  rest  france  translated  make  naked  dream  

ski­n  eyes  written  fall   tonight  hold  used  kisses  blood  

long  lost  sea  poet  slow­ly  hope  new  sun.

Crippled crowned crowds crawling for a crate
Craving to cry in crystalized cradles

Formed of fires in a fidgeting frame,
Favor the finest flavor for your fate!



Bedtime in a bleak baby-like babble
Blessed on his bustier blasting the blames

Gently gathering her gorgeous gauntlet
Glad to be glazed in the glass of his gin!

Soothed by his sights for this serene sin
Secretly seduced by this spoiled piglet

Whooshing wooden wildness withering
On the willing winding ***** whispering!

December, 3, 2015
Lyon 2 University, France

On a bench of relief
I sat. My pen green
At Bloomsburry gardens seen
By the wind like a leaf

To the publishing house around
I submitted my rhymes– this garden
Is against my literary gambling a warden
Behind those doors I heard a different sound

I toss the written coin–Head or tail?
London is a greedy squirrel searching litters
Would you British bustling bushy tail
Want to keep my tale and like my letters?

On a bench of hope
I dreamt–about poetry
My treasured sole trope
Lent to someone else’s industry

Bloomsburry I say your name
House of many a request
Your doorstep is my conquest
But what is, to freedom, fame?

December 15, 2015
Bloomsburry Square Gardens
London

Writer’s block
Blocked on the idea
Of what should be written
The rush to shush the shock.

Love stands naked de
Idealized it is taken
To its blankness to be
Withering alone white

Ness of its imperfection.
In the dead of the night
Time, slowly sings extinction
A painted sorrow in the sea.

Of its crippling cry
Sis and cis(ed)-glow.
By now it knows its eye
Is like a creasèd flow!

Love is afraid it is will
Ingly ugly, that doesn’t
Quite go with the thrill
Yes, it could dream yet it doesn’t

Let love melt on its own
Ed body now left alone!
It is filthy and during dawn
It’s just jittering for the john!

December 1, 2015
Lyon 2 University, France, 7:00 pm

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

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

Don’t stop writing
Till you’ve blushed
Enough to say it’s good
Till you’ve bled enough
To feel it’s said
Till you’re despised
For what you stand for.

Still your breath
Pace your rhythm
Feel your core
Patient.
Embedded in the ground
Ocean wave passing
Spindrift
Swell at your soul
Serene
Soothed.

To Laurentin,

Black Lace

Underneath a tight corset
Bound by a sensual link
Black and satin, carnal
Lets the eye roam
The heart, so tightly bound
Cannot be left alone

So calm a beat
To his mistress’ steps
That he never fails to guess
Whether this silly lover
Could, if he moves her
Undo these pretty knots!

Written on September 8, 2016
Translated on April 19, 2017
Lyon

To Matthieu, my ex French boyfriend



I'm smoking my last
In an empty room
I will watch the past
Seal and shake my doom.

I'm breathing my last
As I crawl under
Under the thunder
Welcoming the blast,

I shall undergo
In an empty room.
And deeper I go
Deeper in the gloom

I'm looking around
Trudging on the ground
I have come to nuke
To repel and puke,

This mild monochrome
Displaying your smile
I will hate your isle
From Sparta to Rome

To grab your image
Your ****** leverage
Going far further
Than before earlier


The road down below
Is dangerous, I fell
Is painful and slow
The road out of hell

Will be bright and pure.
I did **** and mure
Your mild monochrome
And now to my home,

I shall soon return
Far from you lost love
Yes, is gone the dove
Your paper will burn

Ashes, melting fast
Burning monochrome
Blasted monochrome
I'm smoking my last

July 19, 2013
Chambéry, France

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 graved this memory of us, fascinating canopy
My love, each time I am staring at the obsidian sky you are shining endlessly ...



Appoline H-Romanens , last day before June, 2012 , Inspired by and with Matthieu Harreau

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

If she wasn’t hooked on honey
she would fall down on my page
I rescued a blue-winged bee sage
I hope she’ll enjoy her stay
in my human home
She strains her abdomen
I pray it’s not a bad omen
her Hermes powers at rest
Did she leave her nest in earnest
I found her on lonely gray stairs
I pray she heals from her despairs
as the carpenter bee sleeps dangled
To my honey lathered chopsticks
I admire her frail black body
I gently blow on her she’s inside
my heart. I felt hers when she
Gripped my thumb.

March 13, 2018
Lyon

One’s body is the beast of the soul ad libitum
Skimmed, tamed, frustrated, desires-******
Learning in its sweet but furious rebellion
It is made of skin-dust in the stream, alluvium
Of a deep sinuous river, element of passion
Imperfect orb yet proud matter of perfection
Placed at the center of your senses, riotous jewelry
Bedecking, centerpiece of your dominant chest.

Veiled during our rites, silent under the canopy
You seize against your mouth my finery, lover, my fest…

The liquid gemstones give way and the string
Weaves itself again, lightning bolt around you
The palace is shaken by an echo, noblest equilibrium
Hidden crater, fusions, explosions and a blue lava ring
Slowly spread until the delta of your Nile…
Our flesh collide. Then, an unbridled pulsation rises, a mile
Away from the mountains of our erected temples
Swimming against the black tide of our Aegean seas…

In a white morning’s gleam, we have lost to our bodies
Hand-to-hand, in love, in a mutual fantasy.

Translated and adapted on July 9, 2015.

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

This is some puked poetry
I need to scream it out
I can’t let you go
It’s wearing me out
It’s ******* wearing me out
And this puked poetry
Is unaesthetic
Is tragic
Probably pathetic
To hell with words and that rhyme
It’s worth a dime
I’ll throw it up like some poison
I’ll throw it up cuz I’mna choke on it
Say it say it say it
It’s ******* wearing me out
Okay, time out!
You’re gone, gone gone
I’m gone, gone, gone
And the wind, heck, the wind
Is still there to rewind
Our time
Yeah I know that doesn’t rime
I said to hell with it. You don’t listen
But you let me glisten in the glitters
Of our time together
I’m perhaps in the gutters
But promised I’d love you forever
A curse I endorse
Isn’t that worse
Than letting it go?
But I can’t let you go
Set those lines on fire
They’d excite the pyre
Of my frustration
Drop of metal in fusion
Light it up, light it up
Till the blueish skies
Time flies, flies, flies
One year ago
No, I can’t let you go
I began walking alone in Cali
Fornia, Cauli
Flower
Lover.


September 11, 2015- on that same day, I set foot in Southern California, one year ago

4:55 am, snoring boyfriend is downstairs
SOUND asleep
I lie awake and seek to reach the deep
Well of sound and music, a poetic
Kingdom, I made my queendom
With. Never tried emjambments but well,
They seem to fit, they bring to thoughts freedom.

SOUNDS like my well-being
To write poetry is living
The instants to the fullest
Even on a cellphone my rhymes do not rest

I may SOUND poised and in control
But at first my poems were about pain and all
The things that poetry sublimates with her crown
I owe much of my style to what Ginsberg wrote down

My American poetic self is a committed eye with an everlasting passionate SOUND.

Instead of brooding over
The blackness of a light
That tenderly brightens
As the sheer warmth thickens
When you hug each other
I should think this is right:

I should delve in the kiss
Of the winter season
Rebel against my skin
We humans, all akin
I should seal my reason
In this holiday bliss…

But without a shelter
Without a clean cover
Not just a mere lover
How could I then not wish
For my ordeal to be over?
My pleas rush like a swish!

You plead about people
You’ve lost to wars and crimes
You could still when injured
Hurry to your white hall
Me, I just have my rhymes
But you call me perjured!

I will walk wild and weak
To the summits of time
With nothing but a dime
To see on top of all this love
You have deemed bleak.
The velvets of the glove

This lady in her shawl
Touches to her forearms
If I knock do you believe
She would hand me a bowl
Of this Christmas cold eve
My home her humble arms?

Lonely lunatic child
In the gleam of the moon
Oh! I hope she will soon
In her lenient linens
Open to the pure wild
Ness of my night silence

For a piece of this bread
I would tell her my world…
But she leaves satisfied
In the laughs of her thread:
To me demystified
Her dreams I can’t afford.

December 25, 2015
1:06 am
Libourne, France

Desperate to grab the grail of words
we decide to share our joint thoughts
to introspect our vision together
of what it takes to write two at this hour

Pen and paper, one
writes witness into the mind of the other
and meets the timid point of punctuation, followed by
the exasperation of words
it only follows

rules do not apply
nor does a simulacra of similes
the enjambment is our language
that we create we can
misplace
is it our native tongue so much so that
poetry never needs to be learned?

The friendship of thought to process
Relays poet to poem
to poet
And poem again

It's with you now
          I walk
Our eyes along the same path to troth

It's truth is spoken
Between lines, it's in the heart
Our paths, alone, come together
Its friendship Is art

Dialogical process fill in
the blanks at  1:01 4:01
p.m, hey aim
For the sweet link we proudly
discovered and shared in eyes and ink
Both black.

It's lack of light
Where the sun of the one seeks the night of the other
It's days and nights; mark hours... asunder under calendar
And daydream of once and again seeing the same sun face the marvel of the other

We are time traveling, air traveling through words
book a seat at the airline company of poetry
What the other sees in the sun sky above her
the other thinks of under his night sky
the thought of one never cancels that of the other
We trod on the same path
Me with Ginsberg, you with Plath.

Written jointly by Appoline Romanens first, third, seventh and ninth paragraph  at 1:00-1:27 pm, Lyon, France and by Jesse Altamirano, second,  fourth, fifth, sixth and eighth 4:00- 4:30 am, Riverside, California
May 23, 2017

Elle s’appelait Cléopâtre,

Elle était amoureuse,

Son amour l’a laissée rêveuse.
Son animal favori était la panthère,
Marc laissait la belle prospère,

Elle était alanguie sur un divan, allongée
Sans jamais trop être dérangée.
Belle, belle comme une libellule
Elle aimait se lever au crépuscule
Jolie, jolie comme un papillon de nuit
Elle luisait dans un soleil, éblouie.
Elle aimait aussi les chats,
C’étaient des animaux dédiés à Râ,
Mais un jour, la reine se fit piquer par un serpent,
Et donna un dernier adieu à son amant.

27 Mai 2004
Hélette, Pays-Basque, premier poème.

The needle inched closer
To his palpitating pain
In a sigh, in vein
It was stabbed deeper.

The rush of thrill
Shushed him still.
His nerves numbed
He kicked, in vain.

His demise followed suit
In a stainless jumpsuit.

April 06, 2018

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

Abort mission, reboot, we’ve lost control
Where are the procedures, refresh the protocol!
It seems like this civilization has been deemed unstable
Question is, are we really competent and able
To protect our planet and all that we hold dear
No, we ain’t, unless, under duress, we fear.

This coronavirus was like a bull in a china shop
We were concerned about constantly being over the top
Performance, marketing, scales, and stakeholders
It seems we need to revise the strategy, dear readers.

So what now? Are we going to slow down and ponder?
On what we have to give up and offer to manage humanity
Or keep on being obtuse, dollar-oriented and benighted?
Decide to see inside ourselves and stand united?

‘Cause, guess what? When life as we know it will end
It isn’t the green note that you desperately clutch in your hand
That will save you from illnesses, grief, and sadness
Thus: We have to seek the pursuit of happiness
Which will always prevail, keep on smiling to the new day
All this frenzy will appease itself and soon be at bay…

Nancy, March, 30, 2020. Written from 12:03pm to 12:40pm

Look at this sweetheart, his handcuffed wrists wrestling
Casting his cries on the clouds of Cleverack Correctional
Fighting a soul as fierce as his targeted arrow
That he only felt in his flesh firing his crossbow
What if you needed violence to get emotional?
Despising the very day you came into being?

His skies were probably as blue as a sodalite
But yet you kicked him out of the path of Light
In your fake flawlessness, you threw him into Hell
You denied his delights, he became your fallen angel
Eva, don’t you complain, your son has slain, you paranoid
His classmates, but you wanted to fill your life from this void

We need to talk about you before we look at the killer
Eva. You bear the name of the first woman on Earth
Do you think she could have begotten a monster in her hearth
Aren’t you this sick America, wicked and weary in your woes
You wanted your baby to call you his beloved mother
But destroying what you had become became his vicious vows

And he was on the list. You never read the map correctly
Maybe he was your final destination, your last addiction
You are right when you write that you never found the solution
To the cunning curio he represented- of him you took a dimly
View. But did you once look back in his eyes, lit with desperation?


‘’What do you mean, special?’’ probably is the answer
To his enigmatic and yet so crystal clear
“I used to think I knew," " Now I'm not so sure.”
That inspires nothing but a fantastic fear
To the courageous and curious reader
Can you still feel this unhinged pressure?

Oullins, France
May, 21, 2014
After watching the 2011 We need to talk about Kevin movie and reading Lionel Shirver’s book.

Hey folks, listen to the soup I’m spilling
I’m just a random lass
But I don’t give a rat’s ***
About all this huggin and loving
You think I’m inclined to fall for grace
You think I’m gonna waste my time 
On this courtin and kissing
Cuz France held my first breathing
I’d gladly trade ‘em boyz I liked for a dime
I’m born to fight and I don’t ******* mean
Under their gorgeous minds and bodies
Like really. A Man, at his finest can beget
The swiftest soul and body- and what do you get?
A brain led by powers, hormones and pulsions
That is once in a while driven by addictions
So if this is your perfect human race
Then I think I’m in for the haze
That I see in your eyes and words
You wanna put up a fight, then bring your swords
Cause I love that one in a million
Flow of your heart, its alluvion
Your imperfection being my inspiration
You are at the core of my unreachable adoration
****, here I go again all cheesy with my bits
Guess I just need to take a couple more hits
The murkiest the beauty
The finest, for it is poetry

July 24, 2014

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

Vole vers les rêves avec la poussière du crépuscule
Dans ton oeil Oedipien. La Beauté
Scintille dans une des opales de Dieu
Qui te fais apercevoir du ciel le reflet
Alors que tu regardes la cité interdite
A qui on a donné naissance devant le feu expirant
De la parfaite Nature
Fille du furieux Fafnir
Tu ne crains ni le dernier feu ni l’effroi

Te baignant dans l’océan couvert
Idyllique illusion de fusion

Le soleil, se mourant embrassa les coutures
De ta robe cousue d’argent
T’as redonné naissance, déesse grise
Car c’est à son couché
Que ta prêtresse ensorcelée
Née humaine, mais prophète
De l’onirique Orphée

Poète, voilée par ton voeux
Que je saisis les larmes que tu couds

Silence! Je dois ainsi te voir bientôt
Ma magnifique Lune!


Traduit le 7 Décembre 2014,
Université de Californie, Riverside.

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

On the reddened snow, they pray for the body
The corpse onto which all Reason expired
Man’s, woman’s, fallen folks
Listen up corrupted queen, they sing your soul!

Face it, horror, you’ve killed all your subjects
They follow you, wandering losses, Great *******
You curse within your reach your town, your atheists!

Cruel! They praise you with their Ave Maria
Black soul! You should reply with your Mea Culpa
You are the embodiment of my nightmare, Daimon
Following God, I scream “Evil lives inside you !’’
They bless you, thinking you are divine
Repeating, “Bless, evil lives inside her! ‘’
You probably see yourself as a goddess in Heaven
But the more they cried, the more you’ve fallen…

Translated on August 14, 2015

Jusqu’à la fin des temps
Elle fut choisie
Dans le baiser empoisonné du Banni
Ange de plaisir, servant le Démon au Paradis…


3 Décembre 2011
Victoria Gardens, Pékin, Chine.
Traduit en Août 2015


Inside the Demon’s den.
 

Until the end. 
She has been chosen
In the poisonous kiss of the Fallen. 
Angel of delight, serving the Demon, in Heaven…

December 3, 2011
Victoria Gardens, Beijing, China.

It sprang to my mind when my eyes lost their azure gleam
Becoming dyed like a sheet of velvet seam
Of birds and bees I could no longer stand the glee
I had to understand what this hideous creature had done to me:

From my sane mouth, obscene fangs arose suddenly
And naked, I discovered my skin’s paleness
I could no longer feel the torrent’s tender freshness
My cupid and clear heart had become bland ebony.

But blood offered me other renaissances
Slaying for my leisure pure princesses
Showing no mercy, alienated, like an avenger,

A vampire I had alas become! My love will not linger
And only lasts during a cruel evening conquest
‘’You, white and livid body, I did not love you, rest!’’

Translated on May,9 2014

Black inked signs constellate the book
An alien seizes the pages with its code
It’s humming a tune in js node
Transcribing the object with bits it took.

Computing rows of digits to see
On its cover an apple tree
Lit up on the smooth pad you hold
For this ebook, you have just sold.

April 6, 2018
Lyon

This is your soul speakin’
Time has come to enter the ring
You want ‘em to know you’re the king
I don’t wanna see this body give in
For that matter, be the master
Off with this super cozy sweater
Pump it up baby, work it out,
Hold yourself together and try it out.

So let me tell you it’s gonna hurt so bad
But when the signs kick in, don’t stop
Tell them guys you’re gonna get on top
To do that despise respite, lad
You wanna sweat and you know what?
Considering the effort, it’s great
Think about your badass swat
Punch this body to the floor

You don’t want to reach your limits
You’re here to overcome them, so come on
School gave you more than satisfying units
You’ve learned to cope with it, you’re tough
Don’t waste your time, your session is on
And don’t be surprised, this is gonna be rough
Whisper you love this power when you grab it
If you fake the whole stuff this is not gonna make it


So get up, gimme all you got, this is the first round
You like the way you’re struggling and screaming
You like the way it accelerates your breathing
Learn to appreciate it buddy, this is the sound
Of a furious fighter finally enhancing his heartbeat
Stand up and follow this unleashed upbeat!

You’ve passed the 30th line, and you should begin to feel
Sweat covering your hands and this heavy barbell
Ain’t so bulky after all, here comes the spell
Casting this astonishing adrenaline, don’t kneel
Ignore the pain caused by the bench press, you feel better
If you hold onto it because this is the right track
You won’t die baby, bounce and destroy the latter
And remember of the rest you don’t give a frack

So get up, gimme all you got, this is the first round
You like the way you’re struggling and lifting
You like the way it accelerates your breathing
Learn to appreciate it buddy, this is the sound
Of a furious fighter finally enhancing his heartbeat
Stand up and follow this unleashed upbeat!




That’s not the helluva lot to do, you know
At first you can just choose to take it slow
But I thought I told ya to rip your ribs
Well yes, sweat is dripping on your hips
Don’t give up **** it, don’t give in
I said don’t give up, did you hear me speakin?
You’re getting stronger, I said you’re getting stronger
You’re a 700 nitro gun, guy, and it’s getting warmer.

So get up, gimme all you got, this ain’t the final round
You like the way you’re struggling and lifting
You like the way it accelerates your breathing
Learn to appreciate it buddy, this is the sound
Of a furious fighter finally enhancing his heartbeat
Stand up and follow this unleashed upbeat!

June, 10, 2014.

After workin’out.

******* pricey thought
Pretending to be a princess
I’ll catch him and rip his fancy
Dresses off cuz there’s no ecstasy
On his naked raked body
Old and possessed reeking ***
Smells of coke or ****
My ****** up American dream
Your hells, heels and hills
Your hits, ****, teals and tills
You and your exquisite cream
Of love–I’d rip you apart apart
From this adorable gait
Underneath that glorious golden Gate.

September 23, 2015
Villeurbanne

(HER:)

Waking up with distant eyes
Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, remember
Unwanted scenes, a mental ****
You can’t deny nor really escape
An incoherent theater plays out
The nighttime chronological film
Your memory drills the decor
Into your emerging, lethargic brain
You strive to piece it together
It makes sense, you want an encore

My web of dreams is wrought with
People in deeply masochistic scenes
Boudoirs and antique settings
I delve in these repeated lunar sins
Inspired by or tormented in a moon fire
Some hazy mornings I remember that my empire
Comes from those profoundly symbolic rooms
Child of the cross, blessed in a white cloth…
Now naked and proud, embedded in… who?
Silky velvet eyes, dark corners and dooms…

Or, like a prophet, dreaming about my family’s priest
Last night a call that hurt so much that was so clear that was
Unreal. A letter of blessings he wrote by hand
Tools on a table, gifted, in the shape of a small casket
In this horror I besought my heart to have erred
A premonition, coming from so vivid a past emotion?
What are your dreams made of?

(HIM:)

Waking up with distant eyes
Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, remember
An uninvited guest, a dying ember.
Dreams like false memories are hazy
Fading away hastily- vaguely
Still remember a few things namely
A hedgehog hissing and running around
something similar to a floating clover coin
I'm staring at a red colored behemothic door
There's a note scotch taped on that door
It gives me feelings of a signboard.

Blurry visions; I made the decision
to head for it but wait!
The hedgehog is still running around
It looks at me and starts screaming
Strangely the room is teeming
with darkness; Am I dreaming?
I think I am but I'm heaving
Believing whatever I'm seeing
Fleeting valor but I keep reeling
I'm getting closer to The Brobdingnagian
But where's that gnawer? I'm not seeing
him anymore; It was here before

I'm standing in front of the door.
Floor squeaks but I ignore
This blackness is stevedore
Bugbears came back for an encore
Hefty tidal bores inside my heart
Ready to wipe out everything I have
I look around, I see coal-black
No door knobs, no thoughts gob
I'm trapped in this **** room
My head throbs, I'm no Dom Cobb
Need to escape from this maze
I play a bit part in this Big Sleep
I'm not Bogart but a trash heap
Fear streaks, grey doubts peep
I know I'm dreaming but I still keep
seeing what I don't wanna see
I'm more dormant than The Mauna Kea
Trapped in this room like a bumblebee
My mind's worse than a potpourri

I was looking inside for a skeleton key
Then I opened my eyes suddenly
Why is it always like a movie without an apogee?
I looked around to find somebody
And I saw you in the mirror
Staring at me blatantly
So I'm asking you- Hey, tell me!

What are your dreams made of?
Waking up with distant eyes

Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, I remember
the way she smiled; Once again I saw her
Last time I saw her was on 22nd of December
Now that she came once again
I am not afraid of the hurricane
that hit the coast; I was lost
She found me- Long story cut short.
Storm clouds all over the skies
Thunderstorms loud; Heavy lightning strikes
My life was completely disarrayed
But now she's by my side; I'm not scared
Her beautiful smile- all things it repaired

We were talking, Don't remember what
Like old times, a very long chat
I remember saying yes to a few things she said
She smiled, happiness spread
all over my body, no discomfort I felt
All worries eased, all fears calmed
She helped me like she used to help
I don't want this day to end
Just wanna stay here for the rest of my life
I looked around, I'm somewhere else now
Wow! It's beautiful; I'm looking at a painting now
Where is she? She's not with me
I don't see her anywhere near.
I looked around; This place is overcrowded.
Unknown faces; Sadness shrouded
All the memories we made clouded
my path; I don't see a thing
I always loved her
Then why does she leave me halfway everytime?
No matter how much time I spend dreaming
Happing ending will always be an unfulfilled dream
Of mine; I'm screaming
Then I opened my eyes suddenly
Why is it always like a movie without an apogee?
I looked around to find somebody
And I saw you in the mirror
Staring at me blatantly
So I'm asking you again- Hey, tell me!

What are your dreams made of?



(HER:)

“An apo-gee”
Distance away-from earth
An apogee is a dream
It’s an acme, a ******
We dream of having dreams. We lie awake, we dream
We fall asleep, we dream. We think of dreams, we dream
In this so irregular laden-meaning scene that stream
Is new matter at night. Leading us through the deepest
Crevices. We recall a hazy landscape...

Waking up with distant eyes
Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, we remember
The nano seconds of our journey
Like photographs trapped in a camera
We lie down in bed, in our camera
Which is, my dear, the latin word for room
We are a canvas, we are the mechanism
Behind the machinery of dreams
Our brain sorts through the day, sending messages
Hermes in a tiny globulous sphere.

But you asked me to describe the machinery of that matter
In my dreams, I am sometimes seer, sometimes victim
Sometimes goddess. Females are seldom present
Men, men, men, it’s a men’s world
They’re not like horses, a mere form of their symbol
They’re made of skin and bones, their voices bewitching
In no fantasy realm. A concrete cell or a palace
A de Sade manor but… then… always in a room
I must be making use of some mise en abyme.

An abyss, an apogee
Away from earth at the
Bottom of the sea

This woman you speak of
She must be ghost yet queen
I have not seen nor heard
The flutter of her dress
Maybe in your carnal caress
She walked away
WIth a demeanor so noble
That left you longing for her kiss
This bliss of love! this… miss
I mean, dismiss.

(HIM:)

And I woke up listening to this
This soul kiss that I too much miss
Is a call to fall up, deep.
Close my eyes; Time to fall asleep
In a slit trench counting sheeps
Keeping up my defense
Against the fin-de-siecle pretence
Because everything in here pretends
to be real when they are really surreal
Some dreams are meant to make us
feel that way
They won't let our problems wake us
So they can take us away
From the Groundhog Day, we live every day

Waking up with distant eyes
Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, remember
The taste of that hot meal I had
I can trace it back though I go from
one dream to another like a nomad

A world so beautiful yet everything seems offbeat
The places you visit, the people you meet
Things you did when you were in the hot seat
And things you didn't 'cause you got cold feet
Sometimes in bits & parts, you remember
The long run behind the paper chase
Hard to remember, easy to forget
Images in our head sometimes deface
the imagery of this imaginary coquette
Dreams- what role does she play in our life?
Look through the lorgnette you are holding
You'll know she's the one controlling you
When you search for yourself in her world
Always incomplete, leaving an invisible mark
Inside your mind, onerous to find
Makin' you blind during the night
When you open your eyes & try to rewind
That old broken disc inside your mind
Nothing you'll find cause there's nothing inside
‘Cause that dream just died.

Waking up with distant eyes
Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, remember
I wish I don't remember this nightmare
A nightmare is a night's mare
Don't know whose footprints I'm seeing here
Inside I'm hollow, about to be swallowed
by sorrow as my faith in myself is so low
Not so clear still I gotta follow
the trail all by myself, I'm going solo
In my backpack, I carry blessing from Apollo
Make use of your snowshoes, hare!
Going somewhere but I'm not aware
That I'm in the open air, completely bare
Ears impaired but I hear a fanfare
All I see is darkness when I stare
at the road ahead to find out who's there
The Oracle is somewhere near
Waiting to rescue you from this despair
And make this matrix a magic square
You will hear what you wanna hear
If you keep moving forward, dear!

Untamed wilderness and an open sky
The Mighty Huntress is nearby
The Spirit of the Wolf will never die
Smell of fresh blood, ravens fly
Beautifying the color of the night sky.
Don't know why I was chosen as the prey
I don't know what's in for me
If I keep walking through this way.
Then long streams of illusions
Flew in from all directions
I cannot reverse the flow
It's like those silent rivers
Heading furiously towards the sea
Why do I see things that I see?
Gotta keep moving; Do you understand me?
'Cause time moves fast but very slow here
Sound of clock ticks I don't hear
Home's far away- a million light years
from the earth but still near
Suddenly a black hole appears
In front of me out of nowhere
I'm going down through this abyss
I'm not afraid 'cause I know where
I'm going; The Light is showing
me the bottom of the sea.
Almost there, I can see it clearly
I know this is where I have to be
So I closed my eyes slowly
As I reached The Apogee.
----
December through January 2018

Dwindle, dwindle, devious dwarf

The dew skims the sides of my lawn
A fairy must have had here something sawn
A soft stain of sorrow silently slipped
Out of the pages of Edgar Allan Poe
The wind wields the wild warming woe
As a tiny creature, from the book has flipped
It has oddly ended here. Subdued and suffering
I leaned over, and saw the poor eye-sore
Hardly breathing, as lost and fragile as a spore
I picked it up from the ground as it was stalling
And its evil grin pinned me down to the floor
Devious dwarf, dwindle, dwindle
No one, no no one will ever solve your riddle.

And this is how, strangled to death in the moor
The dwarf dances over my demise
If the tiny man starts to misbehave, be wise
Close the book and open up some Chaucer
You'll be spared from it chuckling, reader.
It laughs, beware human, it dwindles
And the leprechaun claims it likes girls' freckles.

November the 28th, 2013
Based on the word '' dwarf'', given by Adrien Mathieu.

Des lumières tamisées
Sur vos lèvres irisées
Des couleurs de ses phalanges
Ailées comme deux beaux anges
Vous et votre éternité
Ombres de la noire nuitée
Vous savourez la caresse
De son rythme. Votre détresse
Devient détente divine
Par vos rires on le devine…

Là, la douceur infinie
Tout commence, tout fini
Par ce que ce corps vous fait
Dans ce soir noir si parfait
Lentement, si tendrement 
Par ses doigtés, doucement 
Connaissant votre plaisir
Et comment y parvenir 
Vous lui rendez, soprano
L'extatique mélodie,

Ainsi l'on aurait bien dit,
Que vous êtes son piano…

26 Août 2015 
Lyon, France

Engraving the grave of love

A stone cold cheek kiss
That brought back no bliss
I dreamed the day of the dead’s
Carnival plebeian fire
Round the two winged heads
Of Notre Dame more than, ****
Your own ancient love pyre
The sky, navy, anew, whispering, sighing.

We didn’t babble, my beat up heart
Constantly repeating “beat it!”
But my feet thought
This meant the sidewalk:
We marched, on and on
We walked, both alone
My heels echoing
Paris, clear, calm kept on calling.

The pathetic pictures of two pasts
Fading away fading fast
During the day of the dead, dealing
With this tepid, torn, tarnished time
Last night I bet and bargained a dime
With my deterrence– a dime turned dove
“Fly away, Paris is no place like home, to love! “

Sunday, November 1, 2015, Paris, Le Marais

To Patrick Süskind, writer of The Perfume,

He leans over her
Admiring the fire of her rebellious hair
Asleep, sweet child
Her body, temple of the most exquisite perfume
Getting drunk on her delight
He tries to **** this about to live madness
Rising up, oh cruel
He plans to lethally hurt her!

Another desire, inside, gushes
For he doesn’t want her to suffer
His lips burning of her, madness!
He’d rather be lenient…

She rolls over, for her he fell
He drops his hammer and her grave
He leans in closer, lover
Her eyes open, he looks at her, charmed

Mouth tight shut, lost inside him
She knows he’s the thief of the night
Three feet away from her eyes
He has to possess her for his tragic project
Lull settles in, she says:
“You’ve come to take my life’’
He smiles, she grabs his hand
And brings him to her red-hued lips

“Laura, I am Jean Baptiste
Senses will be my tomb
I screamed, organic, garbage from the market…
Broken, born almost dead, scattered like schist.’’
“Jean Baptiste, come here’’
“Sweet ******, I’m only sombre ashes
My body only knows the twig
By your perfume only can my heart rise…
No love is that strange.’’
“So I’m yours, divine
Drink my wine to the hilt’’
“Angel, forgive me for what I must do’’

He throws his vest on the ground
Unveiling his skinny self
He is stark naked, she is dreamy.
He lifts the covers, dreading his own gestures
As soon as he’s laying next to her
She softly skims his chapped lips
He answers, babbling
The moon is above them, entangled.

He can’t stop his fingers
On her naked skin wanting him
For no cloth, no silk
Can’t protect her, she isn’t escaping
Her scream in his kiss he takes her
She’s a woman in a blasting fury
On some supple Asian cushions
Her blood slides, fertile, drunk Muse…

He’s already asleep on her hip
He equally adores her curves and her sip
He caresses her white gorgeous chest
Swiftly slays her and,
Lays her down waiting for the blame
Crying, but he has to leave her.

Translated on August 8, 2015

<font size="22">“Can’t **** every day” is what he said
Hello, we don’t even.
Formal French frankly thrown away
Shock. No.
Scenes of SM and secret desires swirl to me
Wave of pleasure, literature of the flesh as well as poetry
All gone with the air of his breath. Breathe. No.

Can’t withdraw the ideas of fantasies
Can’t fight too long against love’s urges
Can’t deny to ignore them sometimes but
Can’t pretend to love him when his pride
As a male is destroyed, because his walking stick
Is askew, I’ve walked my path from California to here
Can’t always shush my fantasies’ atmosphere
I’m upstairs typing away my rage
On the from the start sensitive and ****** page
Wrote a book of poems full of mysteries and furies
Thought he knew it burned, bright.

Lyon, May 4, 2017

Five beats four lines one feeling

This dream I had last night is dear so odd
Of thoughts it could be but a silent stream
Your face was sun was soft in such a dream
I stop the quill, it quivers, quiet flood.

Villeurbanne, 1:50 am, Wed Oct 21, 2015

(translation in French below)

Cinq temps, quatre vers, un sentiment



Mon cher j’ai fait ce rêve la nuit d’avant
Des pensées c’est mais un calme courant
Dans ce rêve doux soleil était ta face
Je freine ma plume, tremblant le long flot glace.

Villeurbanne, 2:18 du matin, 21 Octobre 2015