A-Start the best part*
A-Healthy heart breakfast

Not so fast slow down of prayers
Just come and arrive
Sheer whispering Dress Aline
shapes of water are mine

The Green Gables sweeter lime
The twins whisper in doubles
The pink fur Hello Kitty
My best of the cattle in couples
Meet her friend the Furry Sable

The loud whisperers stealing hearts
Of sleepwalkers
They call her the wanderer
He whispers and she's the keynotes
"Her Real Estate' A-Steal for her estate diaries

But their children love to whisper

The crayons Highlights of the wonderland
Building more Ancient dreams

Stealing the grapes of whisper escapes
Like  A-dream planted to remain
A steal cannot take that away
Even if it's you're last meal

Walking with the one you love for miles
Come on baby light my fire
Whispering Morrison door to save
A dream to give the world peace
Like wishing well pulling the rope

Whisper could that be your prayer of hope?*
The guitar the invisible impossible star
And he steals another dream  
Whispering shadows pass like clouds

Australian Malamutes doing the salute *

Got strung along
And lost you

*A-STEAL for an eye for an eye
     HEART  just give a life

Whispering over again wasn't
the way to play smart
Losing my voice
How to trust someone's words
So hard like the concrete
The abundance of food
Ala carte or Dente

A-Steal dream putting it
into your mind

Whispering Falltime Women in her
Acorn-SHOE* prime time
Walk-in closet Godly light
Like the Viking of swords
Knight

Where to go who will ever know
Not a pin drop of a slight whisper
Clasping or gasping for air
The Holy Water was left

For the delicate minds
of the deer
That light talk of resistance
Lips of acceptance

With her silken pillows
Tied their dreams
Sopping wet rain
The French soothing whispering rainfalls
Wearing her trenchcoat
Whispering her sugar words
He could find me peace
to my river
Like two peas in a pod to float
A Steal how love can tweed his coat
My difference is hearts like "
Owl Hoot"
Just feel you know what's real
Often told the end is truly the taste
to breathe
Even if you are deep inside her dream
To justify her means
Like the Queen to the Diplomat
The highest authority

You almost felt only your whisper the priority
The Aristocrat cleaning up your
bad dreams
*High beams a spoiled love
Like a *** for the Tat
Not the fairytale Dr. Seuss
Cat in the Hat- or the desperation
of one last whisper
Up the sunrise eyes are speechless
The Astral my Goddess
You are the creature of the night
Shining the light never ending the battle night

Smells of baked cake through your nostrils
Rocky mountains of Colorado dreamy caves

Hearing  sounds but living in the distance
The romance blinded like a ghost
winning out the odds

The Even lovers like the Gods whisper
Canadian waterfall talking love deeper

Doing Pilates what *Yogalates loving the
yodeling dreaming watching him the diver
Going dirt biking just love the dreamy feel of hiking

"Hearing Attention ****** in the Summertime"

All blue eyes what a dreamer
The good Earthly brown so worthy
The Cafe Eyes

A steal dream like a spilled milk
Our cat "Jade Eyes" did I hear you
correctly an heir?

Summer the Kings speech air
The assembly line
Good and the bad memories
The years getting away with ******
The law of attraction what a steal in order

Erasing someone's scent
A- million stars you found your truth
Looking outside of your dream
Was your *Godly tent

Constallations, a septette for shining stars
Seven in number, aline like no other, a fusion sign in melting white,
Caught in stellar evolution in the arts of the nuclear, they expand,
Red giants, the final step in their life, before they either blow the layer off gently tossing it into the depth of space, or they go out with a bang
The fall of these great stars, gifting light which is likely to grow life,
A nova which drags their orbital children to the deepest abyss releasing enough energy for a heavenly meltdown breaking hell loose
Stars, standing upon the pillars of creaton planted in there like trees,
Polaris, burn bright in white till you blow up, hell fire don't go out,
In line, with the others, you form a radiant great, or rather big dipper,
Oh you blazing fixed star, northern, luminous and majestic, shine on,
Let this dream fill you up with energy, rumbling deep inside, still you are satisfied, with the reactions, with speed much greater than sound,
A force which would easily break the earths ground, shatter it within moments of a violent dance of might and power beyond any reason,
For the millions, the septentrion shall shine on in a changing dipper,
Until the moment they die.

~ Umi

I reside in your stomach, lying here is bliss…getting gnawed on everyday by your attacking pepsin enzyme. I suspect you would not digest me yet, dear Jennor? You sneak. You, I believe have changed me the most, with your knives. You cut and carve me in your pleasure…shaping, moulding me into the person ridiculously typing this myfuck **** today. In return, I’ve done nothing but bleed with you under the cyanide sun. You’ve ordered me to write, of which I obeyed, and forced me into acceptance. You protect me from everything, at a distance, possessively stalking from the shadows. For that I thank you, and I adore you, ever so dastardly. When I am strong enough, I shall protect you too, and be there to save you…I shall infeckt you in my eternity. You claim my soul, locked up for safety …and but of course, our secrets shall stay untold. Smother me, until I am purple and can no longer breathe.

So, yeah.
This would all have been a lot easier
If I didn't have the heart of a

Poet.
But I'll say this: Please love to learn,
So we can have *** with

Semicolons in as suggestive a
******* as they would imply. I know
I lost my innocence to an

Adjective, but didn't we all?
There's no room for jealousy in
Poetry,

We just rhyme and give the rhyme
Time to define, and aline with the
Rhythm to create a devine

Relaxationary artpiece to be consumed
By any reader who would find the
Time to entwine with a sentence

Or line, and use'em to maybe just
Describe the feeling of a hand
On the face of a man as myself, who

Has written so much of the things one
Can touch, that he looks at the world
As a man that a girl

Can tell: Look at me, and say all
You can see is the face of Eternity.
I am that man, with a pen in his hand,

And you could say it, but I surely  
Know it: My body's a worker's.
My soul is a poet's.

If I am waiting, why not now I ask?
Must I receive your elegance in a slowly introduced doses, simply not to overdose on that of which is your perfection?
If I am waiting, what defines my love to be that of the tangible,
an idea shaped and distorted horribly in my own head?

I’m always that of a time keeper, counting the intervals between the dials of each millimeter between the second markers on the grandfather clock, stretched into a string of ever-expanding infinity.
A line that over laps beyond comprehension, builds that of dimension, time and space, we come colliding!
Yes we do, we always do, if one thing I can count on, it is this.

We are that of every love, repetitive but never stagnant, ever shifting, ever changing, just… beauty in the bell jar.
Captured mid second, frozen in time, in a place
where we meet simply by chance, I will live that of a billion lives, if not for anything more then just one single chance.
I would put my mind in every living creature that has echoed before me, along side me, and will continue to do so long after I depart.
I will short end a fuse to a bomb there for springing a chain reaction, surging convulsions of electricity that only then could even conceive to recognize that of which is my own consciousness!

The purity in the moment of coincidence that takes place when we meet.
That of a flutter of a butterflies wings, the rippling effect of said butterfly.
We are and forever will be locked in sight, because I believe, oh how I believe-

And does my pinky hurt so with the tug of this red string leading me to that of which is you.
It was never a safe path I admit but one for the likes of the profound and the brave.
To build me up, to break me down!
I follow this red string and endure every challenge the gods deem fit for my conditioning.
Because on the other side of that red string is you, and when I say.. It just had to be you….

Theses lives we live, these perceptions we carry, the sounds of music pleasing to the ear, and the books we read that make our eyes soar.
I find myself here in a pool of my own tears dabbed with a sense of poetic justice and as this unusual shade of blue, oh that unusual shade of blue that car bared that day in it’s paint.
The whoosh and whirr of the engine roaring so silently but valiantly, if not to be a that of a last act effort to simply warn me of the moment I’ve been waiting for only my entire existence.
That sound it couldn’t reach my ears in any plausible way but somehow I knew when my eyes were lifted by that passing shade of an unusual blue that was that of a fleeting glimpse of scenery.
My alerts were called to attention, if not just to gaze and check the progression that time has had around me.
So tell me what is the chance of a million chances if not one but of infinitely shifting possibilities and interchanging ideas, what is the chance, that my eyes met with yours that day?
When that car that was painted an unusual shade of blue passed on by in an explosion of fate and destiny.
I bet you the driver of that car didn’t even know how important his role in fate & destiny was that day, what leads me to you that of which was of an odd and unusual shade of blue.
My attentions were called to this date, this second, this very moment, and as I become aware of my shifting surroundings, in the fog of the overwhelming take in of absolutely everything…

I see you, with a voice soft and elegant, hair stained with mystery of time, a face, oh she has a face! with eyes the ones I dream only to stare into until the ends of time, a mouth with lips I can only compare to the soft touch of velvet, and the skin I rub the back of my hand on to check if you have a fever….

For time is not that of restraint, because some part of me knows the whoa of your ever lasting echo.
your existence is so potent with fragrance.
I could smell you since I was in the womb, and when I cried for first the very first time fresh out of my mother’s womb, I cried with the worst feeling I had ever felt, to be born into a world where we have yet to meet.
Almost as if the Angels of oblivion “shh”ed me of the knowledge of the love I will come to know, but I am left with this eternal void with a depth so great it is beyond any means of measurement.

Oh the sorrow that moans, alone and riddled, all the time that is infinitely expanding, tick tocking, and slipping into the future ever so slightly.
Between my short spark of existence and yours was a magnet that chose you and I to be intertwined in the fibers that are the forevers of time.. When I found you.
Because some part of me knows the whoa of your echo, I’ve always known.
Your existence is so potent with fragrance, I could smell you since I was in the womb, and when we first touched you awakened me with the familiarity of that fragrance which I already somehow knew, but never really could put my finger on the idea.
The “I’m home” that rushed over me, the forevers in beckoning, chiming to a melody of birds singing in joy, with the hormones of spring in full roar, an ode to the time keeper himself when I say.. I only want more time with you….

The beauty that lies in that moment is the realization, that I can wait, though I rather not.
Because I can feel you echoing in the fibers of my existence crying out to be found and awakened, and oh am I searching in the eyes of every love that ever fell short.
Only in failed attempt to capture the essence that is you.
Because you just know, you’ve always known, our souls calls out and little do our increasingly limiting minds know, the storm you will have on me..
The desert inside me screaming with drought, and your existence quenches my souls thirst.

I know my heart strings would snap if my life wasn’t that of a mosaic to be built upon just for you.
The time I spent in solidarity, the desolation grew inside me, so I seek, I look, and sometimes I make mistakes, but my heart belongs to you and only you, the women with hair that is stained with the mystery of time….

WHEN will you come out of your shadows, WHERE will I be, WHAT decisions must I make to perfectly aline my life to one day run into you by that of simply chance, and oh I’ve said it a million time but WHY must I wait?
It is nothing short of crippling to know that of which is on the line, I can feel your vibrations more than ever now if not before, and I see the flame that lights the wic of this candle burning method that is my soul.
I let go, and I trust fate and destiny because they hold something of great important to me, and dare if I forsake it, they might just make me not be able to find my keys the day I’m supposed to run into you by that of chance, and I need to be able to find those keys oh so desperately.
So I say “praise the lords of time!” and I swear on my existence if that of which is not meaningless, that you give me meaning, in every way, shape and form.
You are that of winters mid day, you are that of a summer sunset, you’re the smell of a never before opened book, you are the melody that catches my ear every time.
Because you were always there for every single living being if not just me, you were always there, and I will meet you in all the lives I live, because with hope there is a way, and sure there may be dead ends, and forsaken ending, but where I survive, where I live another day, where I see through the eyes of which is mortal, I will devote my effort to search for you my love…

The unspoken beauty of always knowing when I say.. “when I get married” “when I have children” “when I die she will be the last face I see” we and myself including say these things these silly things as if life is to viewed as a promise.
With ever so fragile existences, we die a thousand times if only just to meet once.

Even with our own fragile existences thrown in the balance reality forces the idea that we are a pointless specs in all that is nothing, and I spit at that idea, I spit to it!
Because when I say those things I’m putting my trust in the fact that some day I just know we will meet….

Maybe we will be lucky and find ourselves in park as children and form a love in the shine of innocence that grows like a hundred year old oak tree.
Or if we meet in a place as old as time itself with that smile only to be lighted with a hint of embarrassment showing on your rose red cheeks and that look on your face filled with rush and panic, only to be becoming of you, a sense of urgency floods when you say, when you always say, what you have said so many times before, and will continue to say in the whoas of forever… “I’m sorry I was late.” And I will always return with “it was worth the wait…”

60,3913  N, 5,3221 E, Bergen, 22.05.17

The Germans wear you down spiritually. They look through you with eyes of ice. It hurts when you see your friends turn their back on you. When you see the girl you loved, kissed in the canteen by a *****.  Your heart burns. What has he got that I haven’t? Apart from the muscle that pads out his boiler suit. No-one wants an intelligent man. I sit here sipping coffee in a fishing village café in Bergen. The coffee is hot and my heart aches. Soon we will be making our way up through the fjords to Geiranger. The beautiful fjords that embrace you. There is not so much to bear witness to here. The Gravlax is poor and overrated. Everything is shut. The dreary rain comes down on * A colleague drove me all the way to Hardanger Bridge. The bridge that connects Oslo and Bergen is truly breath-taking. I have seen the Milau Bridge in the South of France, the Somerset Bridge, Clifton Suspension Bridge. However, this is really the highlight of Bergen; unless you are drunk.
17.00 - we leave for G.
62,1008 N, 72059, E, Geiranger, 23.05.17

I wrote to Nan last night. I asked for her guidance. I want everything to be okay with Aline. 05.00 hours I got up to see the Geiranger fjords. They were breathtaking; we passed the Rock God in the cliff face. Or rather; he let us pass. Norway is really a paradise. I think how people only think with their bellies. Helen the nurse abandons us half way up the waterfall. I turn back. The Germans have an acute interest only in themselves. One wonders where love lies. I have found Ole’s café – at the base camp of the waterfall. It is here I feel at home. At this coffee shop I must remember everything properly. I must also forget Helen and how angry she makes me feel.  Mr. Edin said: “It’s the system that makes them so. Everyone is born the same.”

62,0861, N, 6,8687 E, Hellesylt, 23.05.17

I hate my life. I hate my inability to fall in love with anyone and anyone to fall in love with me. These days I can’t stand to look at the face that I see in the mirror. Parts of me crumble away to dust. I feel more and more bitterness, in port, towards couples that have found love – to the point of absurdity. Ice-skating; I drift slowly around the rink. It is the only real time I feel complete when I am alone. I see a couple kissing and happy in love. I feel anger and a bitterness burning up within me.  Why can’t I find someone that loves me simply? Why do I have to do all this **** – the garbage of personal relationships. Hellesylt is truly beautiful. At least I feel at one with nature; even if I don’t fit in anywhere else.

59,4136 N, 5,2680, E, Haugesund, 24.05.17

The war against fat, like finding love, is ongoing. I always feel I am the loser. I am a loser. I am sat in a coffee shop overlooking the red and yellow houses. I try and chat up the waitress;  a beautiful Norwegian blonde. I try and embody the image of a sailor. It works to some extent, but actually only reflects back on myself as a person. The aching has grown less. The coffee helps to balm the dissatisfaction I feel with life; as does the view across the river. There is an English couple opposite. How can you complain with that view out across the river? Twenty-five degrees, surely we must be able to leave our pain behind? I feel myself become more and more alive; back to life. The wounds are healing again. The pain passes.

5,89700 N, 57331, E, Stavanger, 25.05.17
We are going to sit and hammer this out. This book, this journal, bears witness to life. That is its meaning.  Why is it so hard to find love and to be loved? I am only an anatomical structure – corruptible, breakable flesh. Stavanger is quite simply a boring town. You can walk from one end to the other in thirty minutes. There is a church; a freedom monument and slated, wooden houses. Yuliana the Belarusian pushes her body onto mine, beneath the Northern Lights like a teddy bear; she hugs me again and again, never letting me go. I kiss her delicately on the ear. She giggles. I can still hear her voice now and the smell of her sweet perfume. Oh, how I burn inside. How many thoughts and feelings wheel in an instant. How capricious this heart is. I must drink another coffee.

59,9139 N, 10,7522,E, Oslo, 26.05.17
I am on the hunt for a Durian fruit in Oslo. My hunt for Hardanger Beer with the appropriate label also continues. We dock right in the centre of Oslo. The sun warms me. Trust me to fall in love with the only lesbian on board. In Oslo’s most popular café, Kaffebereint,  I think how I get myself into such situations. Maybe it’s because I love long nails on a woman. She has forgotten her scarf. I should really do more sit up and visit the gym. My feet are too busy wandering. Sauna Night takes place onboard – a reward for all those who helped out at the party below the mooring deck. I serve punch and party the night away. For a while I forget the disappointment of people and the strangeness of my body. Oslo is beautifully serene. I walk in the footsteps of Ibsen. I try and make my writing smaller and smaller so that it is almost like Chinese ideograms. I close the gap. I try to be neater; to be better. I walk along the boulevards of coffee shops, wondering how I can be better.
53,35 N, 8,35 E, Bremerhaven, 28.05.17
I am back home (in home port) from the Nordic Voyage. I need to rest up in Hamburg before embarking on the next adventure to the Northern Cape. 21.06.17 at 1700 hours – Bergen. What else is there to report on as we approach the quaint fishing port of Bremerhaven? Home. Only that my ex-girlfriend from Algiers has given birth to a baby girl; she wrote to me. Two years old. Name: Eline. Letters are wonderful. The waves lap gently at the boat. If you ever thinking about writing a letter, you should; we haven’t spoken for two years and she writes to me, out of the blue, because of a Christmas card she picked up in Dar Es Salaam. That is life; life on a boat; life at sea; life on the breadline. A sailor’s life is a funny thing; full of unpredictability.  Even as an enthusiastic merchant sailor I can see the draw of this life. – as tough as I am, what else is there to say? Only that another adventure waits me in Hamburg –

The rest of this transcript, as subsequent potential voyages is lost.

i walk threw the night with my Russian blue eyes the night lights up when the full moon glears. the world is turning as my life turns. every night my blue eyes light up like safiers and fire flys. the delicat nature holds my mind as the wild call out for the first time.
my heart skips a beat when the tables turn same as the demonic elements that linger around my safe haven. the night sky is like a canvas that i can aline the stars above to lead my path to survive.
no candel lights aloud nor fire cause my blue eyes glow like a safire lit up in the mist of the moon  light.

every night i follow new paths but when day breaks i'm vanished from sight. the night sky has so many tricks only the beauty never breaks the cold weather comes around but my blue eyes will never freez or lose the dreams of my life.

when my blue eyes glow i can call to the wild my calls to the wolfs bring happiness deep down with exitment and freeom.

i cant be held back for im nor threat only the wind and moon light can passes my soul.

when winter is hear so do i my blue eyes light the way to my next place of joy

i finally have escaped the werched and divine but my voice will never be heard untill summer and spring arrive.

my russian blue eyes can lead me to love hope and the freedom to fly but the night sky calls my blue eyes traping me drawing me life bye

We met by chance, smiled at me across a room.

Bluest eyes I have ever seen. Wouldn't look away.

Strong handshake, beautiful hands.

Red hair did me in.

Held me in his arms and got into my heart.

Told me he loved me on a rainy day when I was ever so far away , wanted me to come home right away.

8 years later and still makes me smile.

Even now I have no idea where anything is going and everyday is brand new.

4 years later will you still feel the same?

Will he grow tired of my face, will someone sweeter take my place?

I wanna love you forever but I don't know how.

Maybe I am broken and these words need not be spoken so I wrote them down to keep my silence.

I could never hurt another soul , I have done it before and it hunts me still.

Nobody deserves to be crushed , I've been crushed, been crushed by you.

I just wanted to pretend we could go back to the beginning .

Start old love anew , like it never hurt , like you never cried, like my black heart was alive.

I just wanted everlasting love and the stars to aline and to frozen forever in time.

Thaw my cold heart please , be that sweet.

Hold me like you don't want to let go, kiss me like it's never ending.

Smile like I am not just the girl you should want that looks great on paper .

Forever seems so long now, baby if I am alright then why does it feel all wrong?

Just tired of being owned , dying to be free. If you could please let me be.

I know the reckless wild girl still holds your heart and if you say you don't care a million times  your crystal blue eyes never lie.

I just want your life to be good and maybe I am just safe but you need danger.

We looked like a love story in some cheesy movie and then it fades to black.

The End

Honey, it's been a long time
Since love's been out of sight.
Been a while since the time there were a thousand fights
For every tear cried.
Internal confliction
Temptations and addictions,
A never-ending chain,
But like a bullet shot through my brain.
Claims of righteous,
The spark inside us;
I don't know if it's enough.
Thoughts of giving up.
Got to erase them
So there's hope to win,
Got to erase them
So there's hope that I might see you again.

Remember the last words that we said;
Take them when you're dead.
Close your eyes forevermore;
Let your neck sink into the end of a sword.

When heaven falls and
Hell arises,
When we question who'll and
Who'll die,
Will you still be there by my side?
Will you still be there for me to hold tight
In the war of the blind?

Blow away dandelion wishes,
Burn away childhood bliss.
Sever bonds and ties
With those who lied about caring for your life.
Finding trust
Within a pile of dust.
Gambling with fate and
Flirting with death.
Children scream and the
Birds weep.
Yearning for mother to
Rock me to sleep.

Illicit love,
Clandestine dreams,
Pupilless eyes,
Deceased lives,
Can you differentiate truth from lie?

Defected minds,
Straightjackets aline
Slip your hands in the garment like you
Slip your hands in mine.
Sad to say, but it's just a distraction, just a delay
From the inevitable change.
Can't escape the pain;
However, I'm hoping after the rain
There'll be the tranquil sun.
Will I touch it if I run?
I really need it right now, I'm feeling cold.
I just wanna go back home.

But all that's left is ashes with
Smoked-filled madness.
I'm getting ready to stop holding on.

When heaven falls and
Hell arises,
When we question who'll and
Who'll die,
Will you still be there by my side?
Will you still be there for me to hold tight
In the war of the blind?

I'm getting a little desperate
I'm someone you shouldn't mess with.
It's time to rebel.
I don't know how much longer I'll keep quiet
But I need to break this spell.

Since birth, we've been gagged and blinded.
(Psychological void)
Bounded by lies and devil's voice.
(Kneeling down to pray)
Beautiful petals wasted to decay.
(Thrown-out potential)
Let's test the protection of the Human Rights,
Let's get experimental.

If society's shadow is my unjust god,
Then my position must be a fallen angel
Because it hurts to proclaims false faith
If I'm able.

Go on, shoot, if you're sure that's where your
Beliefs lie,
But my spirit will wander,
Never letting these unanswered questions die, like

When heaven falls and
Hell arises,
When we question who'll and
Who'll die,
Will you still be there by my side?
Will you still be there for me to hold tight
In the war of the blind?

When heaven falls and
Hell arises,
When we question who'll and
Who'll die,
Will you still be there by my side?
Will you still be there for me to hold tight
In the war of the blind?

When heaven falls and
Hell arises,
When we question who'll and
Who'll die,
Will you still be there by my side?
Will you still be there for me to hold tight
In the war of the blind?

Send me a blessing, love;
Protection from temptations.
Praying peace will come
I just need to be patient.

Toss aside the fragile mask that
Hides naive eyes.
Can you see the light?

Can you see me now?
Can you see me now?
Can you see me now?
Can you see me now?

À Catulle Mendès


La petite marquise Osine est toute belle,

Elle pourrait aller grossir la ribambelle

Des folles de Watteau sous leur chapeau de fleurs

Et de soleil, mais comme on dit, elle aime ailleurs

Parisienne en tout, spirituelle et bonne

Et mauvaise à ne rien redouter de personne,

Avec cet air mi-faux qui fait que l'on vous croit,

C'est un ange fait pour le monde qu'elle voit,

Un ange blond, et même on dit qu'il a des ailes.


Vingt soupirants, brûlés du feu des meilleurs zèles

Avaient en vain quêté leur main à ses seize ans,

Quand le pauvre marquis, quittant ses paysans

Comme il avait quitté son escadron, vint faire

Escale au Jockey ; vous connaissez son affaire

Avec la grosse Emma de qui - l'eussions-nous cru ?

Le bon garçon était absolument féru,

Son désespoir après le départ de la grue,

Le duel avec Gontran, c'est vieux comme la rue ;

Bref il vit la petite un jour dans un salon,

S'en éprit tout d'un coup comme un fou ; même l'on

Dit qu'il en oublia si bien son infidèle

Qu'on le voyait le jour d'ensuite avec Adèle.

Temps et mœurs ! La petite (on sait tout aux Oiseaux)

Connaissait le roman du cher, et jusques aux

Moindres chapitres : elle en conçut de l'estime.

Aussi quand le marquis offrit sa légitime

Et sa main contre sa menotte, elle dit : Oui,

Avec un franc parler d'allégresse inouï.

Les parents, voyant sans horreur ce mariage

(Le marquis était riche et pouvait passer sage)

Signèrent au contrat avec laisser-aller.

Elle qui voyait là quelqu'un à consoler

Ouït la messe dans une ferveur profonde.


Elle le consola deux ans. Deux ans du monde !


Mais tout passe !

Si bien qu'un jour qu'elle attendait

Un autre et que cet autre atrocement tardait,

De dépit la voilà soudain qui s'agenouille

Devant l'image d'une Vierge à la quenouille

Qui se trouvait là, dans cette chambre en garni,

Demandant à Marie, en un trouble infini,

Pardon de son péché si grand, - si cher encore

Bien qu'elle croie au fond du cœur qu'elle l'abhorre.


Comme elle relevait son front d'entre ses mains

Elle vit Jésus-Christ avec les traits humains

Et les habits qu'il a dans les tableaux d'église.

Sévère, il regardait tristement la marquise.

La vision flottait blanche dans un jour bleu

Dont les ondes voilant l'apparence du lieu,

Semblaient envelopper d'une atmosphère élue

Osine qui tremblait d'extase irrésolue

Et qui balbutiait des exclamations.

Des accords assoupis de harpes de Sions

Célestes descendaient et montaient par la chambre

Et des parfums d'encens, de cinnamome et d'ambre

Fluaient, et le parquet retentissait des pas

Mystérieux de pieds que l'on ne voyait pas,

Tandis qu'autour c'était, en cadences soyeuses,

Un grand frémissement d'ailes mystérieuses

La marquise restait à genoux, attendant,

Toute admiration peureuse, cependant.


Et le Sauveur parla :

« Ma fille, le temps passe,

Et ce n'est pas toujours le moment de la grâce.

Profitez de cette heure, ou c'en est fait de vous. »


La vision cessa.

Oui certes, il est doux

Le roman d'un premier amant. L'âme s'essaie,

C'est un jeune coureur à la première haie.

C'est si mignard qu'on croit à peine que c'est mal.

Quelque chose d'étonnamment matutinal.

On sort du mariage habitueux. C'est comme

Qui dirait la lueur aurorale de l'homme

Et les baisers parmi cette fraîche clarté

Sonnent comme des cris d'alouette en été,

Ô le premier amant ! Souvenez-vous, mesdames !

Vagissant et timide élancement des âmes

Vers le fruit défendu qu'un soupir révéla...

Mais le second amant d'une femme, voilà !

On a tout su. La faute est bien délibérée

Et c'est bien un nouvel état que l'on se crée,

Un autre mariage à soi-même avoué.

Plus de retour possible au foyer bafoué.

Le mari, débonnaire ou non, fait bonne garde

Et dissimule mal. Déjà rit et bavarde

Le monde hostile et qui sévirait au besoin.

Ah, que l'aise de l'autre intrigue se fait **** !

Mais aussi cette fois comme on vit ; comme on aime,

Tout le cœur est éclos en une fleur suprême.

Ah, c'est bon ! Et l'on jette à ce feu tout remords,

On ne vit que pour lui, tous autres soins sont morts.

On est à lui, on n'est qu'à lui, c'est pour la vie,

Ce sera pour après la vie, et l'on défie

Les lois humaines et divines, car on est

Folle de corps et d'âme, et l'on ne reconnaît

Plus rien, et l'on ne sait plus rien, sinon qu'on l'aime !


Or cet amant était justement le deuxième

De la marquise, ce qui fait qu'un jour après,

- Ô sans malice et presque avec quelques regrets -

Elle le revoyait pour le revoir encore.

Quant au miracle, comme une odeur s'évapore,

Elle n'y pensa plus bientôt que vaguement.


Un matin, elle était dans son jardin charmant,

Un matin de printemps, un jardin de plaisance.

Les fleurs vraiment semblaient saluer sa présence,

Et frémissaient au vent léger, et s'inclinaient

Et les feuillages, verts tendrement, lui donnaient

L'aubade d'un timide et délicat ramage

Et les petits oiseaux, volant à son passage,

Pépiaient à plaisir dans l'air tout embaumé

Des feuilles, des bourgeons et des gommes de mai.

Elle pensait à lui ; sa vue errait, distraite,

À travers l'ombre jeune et la pompe discrète

D'un grand rosier bercé d'un mouvement câlin,

Quand elle vit Jésus en vêtements de lin

Qui marchait, écartant les branches de l'arbuste

Et la couvait d'un long regard triste. Et le Juste

Pleurait. Et tout en un instant s'évanouit.


Elle se recueillait.

Soudain un petit bruit

Se fit. On lui portait en secret une lettre,

Une lettre de lui, qui lui marquait peut-être

Un rendez-vous.


Elle ne put la déchirer.


. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


Marquis, pauvre marquis, qu'avez-vous à pleurer

Au chevet de ce lit de blanche mousseline ?

Elle est malade, bien malade.

« Sœur Aline,

A-t-elle un peu dormi ? »

- « Mal, monsieur le marquis. »

Et le marquis pleurait.

« Elle est ainsi depuis

Deux heures, somnolente et calme. Mais que dire

De la nuit ? Ah, monsieur le marquis, quel délire !

Elle vous appelait, vous demandait pardon

Sans cesse, encor, toujours, et tirait le cordon

De sa sonnette. »

Et le marquis frappait sa tête

De ses deux poings et, fou dans sa douleur muette

Marchait à grands pas sourds sur les tapis épais

(Dès qu'elle fut malade, elle n'eut pas de paix

Qu'elle n'eût avoué ses fautes au pauvre homme

Qui pardonna.) La sœur reprit pâle : « Elle eut comme

Un rêve, un rêve affreux. Elle voyait Jésus,

Terrible sur la nue et qui marchait dessus,

Un glaive dans la main droite, et de la main gauche

Qui ramait lentement comme une faux qui fauche,

Écartant sa prière, et passait furieux. »


. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


Un prêtre, saluant les assistants des yeux,

Entre.

Elle dort.

Ô ses paupières violettes !

Ô ses petites mains qui tremblent maigrelettes !

Ô tout son corps perdu dans les draps étouffants !


Regardez, elle meurt de la mort des enfants.

Et le prêtre anxieux, se penche à son oreille.

Elle s'agite un peu, la voilà qui s'éveille,

Elle voudrait parler, la voilà qui s'endort

Plus pâle.

Et le marquis : « Est-ce déjà la mort ? »

Et le docteur lui prend les deux mains, et sort vite.


On l'enterrait hier matin. Pauvre petite !

a spirits heart lingers
held by the creation of earth
to deny life the gift of the Stars

the universe all spirits memory
held in kind by the creation of Earth
whiling Universe remembers its birth first
the path altered by the powers of Earth
creation maligned by greed

life wealth in creation a power
to control destiny of being
denying the spirit forces of Eternity

the Stars and shards brilliant meanderings
to aline its dreams together in creation

yet life with held the glory of Eternity
Earth built its own realm

the Universe cosmic travelers beings
denied the living power of eternity
thru the makeup of Earth forces

usurpers of sovereignty  tyranny power
over the minds of human beings
to divide by the pull of contrary forces
sustainability verses the power of god in heaven

yet the hearts pumping lingers rich
a river of blood the flowing filling
of beings  body vessels carrying

the senses around n around
pushing the extremities
to hold this body in form

a chosen diet food of human made
carcinogens fermented waste drugs
addict-able for profit a being
manipulator driving life
pillage **** and taxation
to insanity to the end of humanity
a blood that ignores eternity
lets just arouse the passing of time
comfortably numb full of vice virtue

whose brain will save them
from themselves a tipping point
to return to the quest for Eternity

we are the pollution we have made
the Universe the Big Bang
we know no end no time for Eternity  
a glow harp waits for time
glow harp glow     gjmars 5/28/15

As the stars aline
and as the moon shines
you get the feeling of being alive
the rain drops
from the hill tops
Watering the crops

Admire nature through my eyes
Admire it's trees and flowers
nature rages out but always comes to peace
fire burns and tornados blow
but in the end the sun spreads its light

If you look in deep
and look for clues
you will find God's persition in every move
he made of cells that breath and feed.
A DNA that holds the key of being sick or healthy
he gave us a mind that made us think
he gave us a choice to choose what's right.
we forget to say thank you for all his gifts
and don't pray for him unless we need him

I see the stars aline
For you and I
I see the futer than could be
And yet still I see
You without me

bow down to me
you’re nothing without my fury
with clouds in your eyes
and smoke in your belly
don’t question my love
come to me my love
let me show why you dropped everything for me
for a couple of hours
with death in your hand
for a couple of hours
you might just understand

in the clouds
where everything is perfect
where all the stars aline
in the clouds
one more drink is worth it
just shut up and trust me
and walk across this burning bridge
it won’t hurt a bit my love
don’t be scared of my clouds

When I look into his eyes, filled with love
Which did dazzle, like our heaven above
All of the stars, at this moment aline
I get lost in space, I get lost in time
I don't know what i did, to have a kiss
With the man of my dreams, that gives me bliss

That too was flawed as your characterize traits.


Do river's move because of wind, or is it because your smile.


Optical illusions, as your beauty gets off at the next transit.


Crowds aline in order hight low short taller.

You choose, aimlessly and sit blank in experience.

So as too your mind you keep safe.


For moods are annoying and you need to pick your team

my Aline
was a
queen and
matrix of
my love
that adored
jazz that
bossa nova
did herd
her tailspin
that my
kiss  blew
magic with
her clement
till a
thaw in
January regret

The world is complicated
the cure to cancer is
but feelings
well at least they shouldn´t be

sadly they are
or at least we make them.

It should be so easy
as deciding which box to check, yes, no or maybe
just like we did as kids.

But we grew up
and it´s not that easy anymore
it´s not just yes and no
it is way more complex.

It may be de decision of a lifetime
or maybe it isn´t.

Are we in it with 100% of our heart
or just 70%
because these 30% could make the difference between
the best and the worst
between right and wrong.

It is not just our heart or head deciding
they both have to aline,
and that is so complicated.

My walls, blue and green, filling with integrity,  caring and soft, humble and kind, loud and crazy
don't seem to match up with you blank white walls
all they show is your ocean of ego that paints across them with black and grey blocking anything else of your soul, who you really are, from shining through

In the time I found myself, you lost yourself into the ocean of which I almost drowned in because of you.
And when each piece of your black wall crumbled down I couldn't take my wall, and piece by piece and break it apart again to help you float. To help you find the land in the deadly sea, the water in a scorching desert.

That they words that I paint across the room, showing everybody what I think
doesn't match up with your ideas, and what your black wall that shuts off everyone else thinks. That I paint a picture that shines bright through the minds of brilliant thinkers that you could be but your too shut off to see.

I'm different than you, that my eyes didn't hold the darkness and you can never see the stars shine the way. That the day only blinds you even more because you find the sun as a foe not a friend, you see the tree fighting the leaves where you could see them as letting the leaves dance to the tune the wind sings, that the lighting storms **** and punish the houses for sheltering the people or you can see them as the lighting storms that light up the ground making it easy for the houses to be loved as a home not a place.
That the constellations match up in my eyes and I see the galaxies swirling through the night because I know what it feels like to become engulfed in darkness of where I can't even see who I really am. Of where I blinding go through life, not seeing but only touching. But I can't take my stars and aline them for you. Make O'brien's belt and the Dippers shine for you, but I can give you the North Star.
Maybe you can follow it until you find the galaxy that is meant for you and the black walls you jailed in your identity can fall down in surrender and its not a cage fight to see who will win, will the darkness will overshadow your bright identity, it only can if you let it. Will You?

These words I have are simple
These words I have are true
The ones in my possession
I've been holding them for you

I've held them for a reason
For the stars to perfectly aline
For you are the only reason
I'm letting these words go at this time

Although they may be simple
A massive truth they do convey
It's you I love and you alone
Are the words that I have saved
That I now wish to give away

Snuggle me don't let me go. Let me stay and make a home. Rest my head in your chest. Legs intertwined. Blinded from the world outside. I'll close my eyes and squeeze you tight in that moment I can rest in delight. Away from faces, voices, and pain. I'll hide myself securely in your bodies frame. And when I'm rested and recuperated from the weight of this place we can rome like children with everything to gain and fall in love with the stars that made us Aline and shine side by side in this promising life waiting to be defined...

Lovesick lass hope to the heavens your light will be found. Her eyes shine like stars in the night sky seen from a country road, that is a simile and hyperbole, her eyes are not like the suns of distant solar systems. Her eyes are the moons, they don't create their one light but reflect all that they love. Block the Sun my moon, become red in the night sky, dilate in the sky,aline with Venus, for these happen once in a lifetime but every moment I see you I relive them with vivid color. My moon I could be a moon too but in a much different sense I could revolve around you as we dance around the Sun. I could change the tides and try to be a light when your skies are dark. Please find love in the moon.

Rhythmed hearts change with time
Molded souls no longer twine
Everything ends
Paid for our crimes

Let me go
let me be
Let hearts grow again kind
It is time to let go
Let space allow me to find

Cruelty grows
although it is fine
Mosaic of dreams
You're no longer mine

Let me go
let me be
Let me grow without bind
It is time to let go
Stop bungling my mind

Lifted shoulders reveal
Worlds filled with shine
Break free from this burden
Let the stars aline

Let me go
let me be
Let emotions unwind
It is time to let go
Tears leave you blind

Let you go, to let you be
Gave words that were kind
It was time to let go
Buried memories behind

Now that I'm awake, I once again realised what I've lost.
I guess I'm just used to being used around and tossed.

If you can make mistakes, but I can't...
I just keep wondering who really is my friend.

Now that I'm sober, I can finally see them appart.
Those who dropped me when things got hard.

Those who are still near me even though I made a fuss.
All aline, an empty line, no one cares thus...

All alone an empty world with only those who are near.
Forced to care by blood or court, I'm seeing so clear.

Am I so difficult to love, in moments of despair.
With come and go perspective, I just don't think it's fair.

All those who read this might understand.
For this last poem, is for all those who denied my hand.

All alone at last, I will finally give up on you.
For I am human, nothing more, no one understands me too.

For this last poem I will walk alone, awake my rust.
For it will be hard for me to ever, ever gain more trust.

i know that you wanna take me some place special in you
But why does this walk feel so lonely?
Why does it feel as though everyone is my opposition?
Feels like in every situation im losing
I know i must aline myself with your plans being that i dont have one but just gibe me signs to let me know im not alone in this fight
God i pray that you surround me with people who have a common goal in mind
People that will give me godly advice and propel me to my destiny
God i ask that you aid me in being a difference maker, because i realize that i can make a difference in so many people's lives.
It feels as though when im at my lowest point thats when i can hear him the most
But what about when im on a high
Do i still hear his voice?
Do i choose to listen or do i tune him out?
Because in order to affective i cannot have selective hearing