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La Rochefoucauld dit, Madame,
Qu'on ne doit pas parler de soi,
Ni ?.. ni ?.. de ?.. de ?.. sa ?.. sa ?.. sa femme.
Alors, ma conduite est infâme,
Voyez, je ne fais que ça, moi.

Je me moque de sa maxime.
Comme un fœtus dans un bocal,
J'enferme mon « moi » dans ma rime,
Ce bon « moi » dont me fait un crime
Le sévère Blaise Pascal.

Or, ce ne serait rien encore,
On excuse un... maudit travers ;
Mais j'enferme Toi que j'adore
Sur l'autel que mon souffle dore
Au Temple bâti par mes vers ;

Sous les plafonds de mon Poème,
Sur mes tapis égyptiens,
Dans des flots d'encens, moi qui T'aime,
Je me couche auprès de Toi-même
Comme auprès du Sphinx des Anciens ;

Tel qu'un Faust prenant pour fétiche
L'un des coins brodés de tes bas,
Je Te suis dans chaque hémistiche
Où Tu bondis comme une biche,
La Biche-Femme des Sabbats ;

Comme pour la Sibylle à Cumes,
Mon quatrain Te sert de trépied,
Où, dans un vacarme d'enclumes,
Je m'abattrai, couvert d'écumes,
Pour baiser le bout de ton pied ;

À chaque endroit de la césure,
D'un bout de rythme à l'autre bout,
Tu règnes avec grâce et sûre
De remplir toute la mesure,
Assise, couchée, ou debout.

Eh, bien ! j'ai tort, je le confesse :
On doit, jaloux de sa maison,
N'en parler pas plus qu'à la messe ;
Maxime pleine de sagesse !
J'ai tort, sans doute... et j'ai raison.

Si ma raison est peu touchante,
C'est que mon tort n'est qu'apparent :
Je ne parle pas, moi, je chante ;
Comme aux jours d'Orphée ou du Dante,
Je chante, c'est bien différent.

Je ne parle pas, moi, Madame.
Vous voyez que je n'ai pas tort,
Je ne parle pas de ma femme,
Je la chante et je clame, clame,
Je clame haut, sans crier fort.

Je clame et vous chante à voix haute.
Qu'il plaise aux cœurs de m'épier,
Lequel pourra me prendre en faute ?
Je ne compte pas sans mon hôte,
J'écris « ne vends » sur ce papier.

J'écris à peine, je crayonne.
Je le répète encor plus haut,
Je chante et votre Âme rayonne.
Comme les lyres, je résonne,
Oui... d'après La Rochefoucauld.

Ah ! Monsieur !.. le duc que vous êtes,
Dont la France peut se vanter,
Fait très bien tout ce que vous faites ;
Il dit aux femmes des poètes :
« Libre aux vôtres de vous chanter !

Dès qu'il ne s'agit plus de prose,
Qu'il ne s'agit plus des humains,
Au Mont où croît le Laurier-Rose,
Qu'on chante l'une ou l'autre chose,
Pour moi, je m'en lave les mains. »

Donc, sans épater les usages,
Je ferai, Madame, sur Vous
Dix volumes de six cents pages,
Que je destine... pas aux sages,
Tous moins amoureux que les fous.

Pour terminer, une remarque,
(Si j'ose descendre à ce ton,
Madame), après, je me rembarque,
Et je vais relire Plutarque
Dans le quartier du Panthéon :

Sans la poésie et sa flamme,
(Que Vous avez, bien entendu)
Aucun mortel, je le proclame,
N'aurait jamais connu votre âme,
Rose duParadis Perdu ;

Oui, personne, dans les Deux-Mondes,
N'aurait jamais rien su de Toi.
Sans ces... marionnettes rondes,
Les Vers bruns et les Rimes blondes,
Mais, oui, Madame, excepté moi.
Nikita Zulauf Feb 2015
I feel lonely.
And thats very hard to admit.
Though there's always people just out of reach, I am always seemingly lonely.
The people who I tell this to all promise they are there an never beyond my finger tips.
And yet I am lonely.
The wish to just sneak away an leave this world behind is always tucked in plain sight in my mind.
But The fear of those who would hurt there after is worse then the desired pain of the impact. The problem lies within the thought if I die. Are any of the problems solved? Am I any less alone,
Or have I just forced That pain onto the ones who clame to be Within grasp. But if they are to be So near. when I drop towards the ground arms wide ready to leave this all behind will they notice in time to hold out there arms and catch me.
Or will they only see the stain of a smile That once wore proudly across my face.
Not realising in time that it had faded to nothing but a memory I was unable to pry back from my soul.
Would they unknowingly stand by as I didn't dare cry. But hold my head high as I bid goodbye, would I no longer feel lonely if I was in heaven with you.
Rangzona Mar 2012
It approaches 
That's all that matters
It comes ever closer 
With a speed that none are clear of
But none can live with out knowing the result 
Death is coming
And I feel her hands grasping for my neck

I see her coming 
Not a threat 
But a promise from reality
She is hear to make the balance 
Her presents scatters all
But I wait for her 

My life I wish was worth more
But because of my own mind I never allow my self
To clim
To aprouch the heart of my existence

I sat never grasping 
As death Grasp for me
She is hear and it's all my falt
I have allowed my life pass me by
Just let the sand seep though my hand

I have forgotten the reson I'm hear 
Never venturing
Never gaining 
Just waiting for her to come
To clame what is hers

But as she grasp my through she stops
"why do u not fear me"
She said this to my emotionless face
"all Flea befor me and yet you stair at me
As if  You could cair less if I came"

"I do not fear you 
Since I knew you would come
I do not reglet leveling this place
For I got nothing for me"

She grasped my hand 
She looked in my lifeless eyes
Her eyes was not like mine
But the opposite 
Thouse eyes showed me what I missed
The crush I alow to flote by
The people I pushed away
She showed me what could of been

That crush becoming more
Her braking my heart
My frainds pick the peaces up
And me continuing my life

"I will be back one day" 
She said as her eyes reflected what I could be
But not because of you
I will come for what you owe
But not now"

She left me 
My complete oppiset
And I cried 
Hear I am seeing nouthing but love and life
And all I cared about was the death
The heartache

But she grasped the reality of life
Death knowing more of life 
Than the living

The morning after I cleaned my wound 
Life seemed just the same
But I still herd deth in my head
Tell Me to live
And so I did
I coted my wounds with a jacket 
And seeked what I could not see
With out death
This dedicated to all who tuck their own lives.......
Yo i know this track was already blessed
So i guess i sit back n roll aome sess
My life is always revolving solving
Problems of the worlds nobodies involved in
And nobody gives a **** only after the buck
Some do gun play but most of my homes stay
Pimpin' the pen my skin is my sin
Will the Heavens let me in??
Its ****** everywhere i go
Fools even gettin' killed at funerals
No shame in the game humans huntin humans but all in the same gang
Naw we divided by race look me in my face
They want us to go after the paper chase
So they can cover of the murders
Of there **** ups blame minorities
Then we summoned by the authority
**** authority  i clame royalty
My ancestors died on this blood soil for free
So how are we free? When tell us from the jump street we enticed to the penitentiary?
Education is a joke occupations goin up in smoke
Feel the vapors compensations fadin'
Wake up youngin' and start obeyin'
Ya instinct dont act like ya **** dont stink
In all house nigguhs **** a **** *****
Homeboy this aint childs play
This life n death so listen to what i say
They murdered many with the injections
Because elite society a growin' infections
They murdered Eazy Janis Hendrix Malcolm King Nat Turner and Amy and many?
So yea you can blame the
Music industry music is revolution the only solution
Is to invoke pollution gun shots silent provoke violence
Shake up the white house now its deaths appliance
Defiance
I am cuz im a man not boy so **** being coy
If they really wanna end you they put you
On a ******' tube to show
That they murdered yiu in cold blood
And not even cry sit on the chair interview spreading a lie
Know this the eye sees the mind believes
Break that mentality before you recieve
The mark of the beast three slashes on ya *****
Turn the degrees
Up six hundred and sixty six **** dollara n sense
Wake up or get caked up because if you get to close to light ya might die of ****** ******




Now im stretching the heat
Of beef
So if ya hungry you can eat uh
I stand on my feet
After beat downs of the punk police
This aint a tale this is a saga
Spittin' lava from my saliva
And if you mad get yo steel
And if you happy go pop a pill
Cuz the **** i speak make the pigs squeal
Runnin' to corners like mice
Cuz they know im so real **** mass appeal
You can cash out on death
And take a deep breath
Cuz its hard to inhale all this ******* it aint hard ti tell
Open yo head or let the ghost out the shell
Earths is Hell cant find a bail
Enticed to famine disease illness
Id rather die young like Black Jesus
Yo religion dont please us
So tell Jessie n Sharpton
To get back on the bus
Cant trust
These hyprocrites suckin' white supremacy ****
So wipe ya mouth N double A CP
Cuz i aint down with O P P
They steady watchin' but im watchin' them
Just ask my homie Tim
OLSAN BETTER KNOWN AS BIN LADEN
that nigguh aint dead he just bin hidin'
In government custody
Remember how they did Toby?
Show that you real
And watch how fast you end up behind bars of steel???
So you can say im a pessimist
Naw this is just a  genesis the realist
To ever spin off a instrumental
**** a sentimental im official
Like Jude break the law always entice the blood
Hold up this aint a gimmick
Killin' all the mimics its murderrrr

Beaten Bitter Blood mouth.
Emo shutters through the walls.
Darkest dreams surface to reality.
Black eye
Strong guy
A club
And a kid.
All over
Here
In
This time
He pays
Price
$$
(Prison)
Sketchy motives
And a coffin
Left
For the
Morning
To clame
L'Océan sonore

Palpite sous l'oeil

De la lune en deuil

Et palpite encore,


Tandis qu'un éclair

Brutal et sinistre

Fend le ciel de bistre

D'un long zigzag clair,


Et que chaque lame,

En bonds convulsifs,

Le long des récifs

Va, vient, luit et clame,


Et qu'au firmament,

Où l'ouragan erre,

Rugit le tonnerre

Formidablement.
Lucas Pilleul Oct 2017
Il en passait des nuits à écrir’ des poèmes,
Des mots pleins de ratures, sa vie à la bohème,
Regardant dehors, il voyait la lune-pleine,
Les étoiles du ciel sombre, éclairaient sa peine.
Il se voyait déjà, volant ‘delà les cimes,
Courant maladroit’ment, il était bellissime.
La tête lui tourne, il semble qu’il hallucine,
Il hallucine, il hurle et même, il s’enracine !
Peu import’ le chemin, il se guide avec l’âme,
Et s’il croise quelqu’un, son récit il lui clame.
Il n’y comprenait rien, peut-être était-ce un âne.
Tristement à ses mots, toutes les fleurs se fanent.

Il aimait observer les gens. Étonnamment,
Leurs chants lui inspiraient de sa vie le roman.
Et même seul, il veut les mots qui correspondent,
Il en accoucherait comme les poules pondent,
Dans tous textes, il en voulait un qui soit l’œuf d’or.
Mais les passions, les accidents, il les ignore.
Son imagination était en plein essor,
Écrivant poèmes et poèmes, encore, encore,
Ici, là bas, où qu’il soit il y vagabonde.
Ça y est, il repose calmement sa blonde,
Regarde autour de lui, il n’est pas seul pourtant.
Toujours le pir’ moment pour ses etourdiss’ments.
#14
Amour qui voles dans les nues,
Baisers blancs, fuyant sur l'azur,
Et qui palpites dans les mues,
Au nid sourd des forêts émues ;

Qui cours aux fentes des vieux murs,
Dans la mer qui de joie écume,
Au flanc des navires, et sur
Les grandes voiles de lin pur ;

Amour sommeillant sur la plume
Des aigles et des traversins,
Que clame la sibylle à Cume,
Amour qui chantes sur l'enclume ;

Amour qui rêves sur les seins
De Lucrèce et de Messaline,
Noir dans les yeux des assassins,
Rouge aux lèvres des spadassins ;

Amour riant à la babine
Des dogues noirs et des taureaux,
Au bout de la patte féline
Et de la rime féminine ;

Amour qu'on noie au fond des brocs
Ou qu'on reporte sur la lune,
Cher aux galons des caporaux,
Doux aux guenilles des marauds ;

Aveugle qui suis la fortune,
Menteur naïf dont les leçons
Enflamment, dans l'ombre opportune,
L'oreille rose de la brune ;

Amour bu par les nourrissons
Aux boutons sombres des Normandes ;
Amour des ducs et des maçons,
Vieil amour des jeunes chansons ;

Amour qui pleures sur les brandes
Avec l'angélus du matin,
Sur les steppes et sur les landes
Et sur les polders des Hollandes ;

Amour qui voles du hautain
Et froid sourire des poètes
Aux yeux des filles dont le teint
Semble de fleur et de satin ;

Qui vas, sous le ciel des prophètes,
Du chêne biblique au palmier,
De la reine aux anachorètes,
Du coeur de l'homme au coeur des bêtes ;

De la tourterelle au ramier,
Du valet à la demoiselle,
Des doigts du chimiste à l'herbier,
De la prière au bénitier ;

Du prêtre à l'hérétique belle,
D'Abel à Caïn réprouvé ;
Amour, tu mêles sous ton aile
Toute la vie universelle !

Mais, ô vous qui m'avez trouvé,
Moi, pauvre pécheur que Dieu pousse
Diseur de Pater et d'Ave,
Sans oreiller que le pavé,

Votre présence me soit douce.
Scaramouche et Pulcinella,

Qu'un mauvais dessein rassembla,

Gesticulent, noirs sur la lune.


Cependant l'excellent docteur

Bolonais cueille avec lenteur

Des simples parmi l'herbe brune.


Lors sa fille, piquant minois,

Sous la charmille en tapinois

Se glisse demi-nue, en quête


De son beau pirate espagnol,

Dont un langoureux rossignol

Clame la détresse à tue-tête.
Dimitrios Sarris Oct 2018
Cunning herald distraught but glamorous
you promise wealth and fortune
in ways and prices of no existence
but who could refuse?
Gamble and some luck, a bargain for souls
you always come back.
I reject your offerings and refuse to go back
you're hollow a shadow of nothing
provoking my limits
tempting with your majesty
threatening with suffering.
I don't care if you always find a way
i will always transcend your ways.
You clame i am nothing without you
but the truth is you are nothing without me.
Ken Pepiton Sep 23
In our tiny cyberspace in the vast Amazon Web Services
cloud of constant knowing cognatively in all
197 current wikipaedian accents on thought,

assisted intell true interest answers

aitia, clame blame take the shame
and shove it where no light shines,
not hell, null, it’s a state, a field,
from which only wiser men
develop consciousnesses
useful at awesome intensities…

Bubble ensample, determined
first time readers, find each letter
allows a slow
down, we think too fast, because,
half of us are one side of a swell in hope,
the fidelity of we, survivors, by luck,

no lie, I just got by.

Imagine, we all have imagined, already,

how might a lifeless Mars be terraformed,
we have imagined, as we imagined Earth
without form, and void, in lightless ever, once

timeless primordial lack of relativity
to form spans of time from point
whenever, once
a we called elohim, as if
'ello, heem is calling, are we
home as where never is heard

a discouraging word,
imagine, in your courAzone
auming om howling beat, rapt
to whole bubbles of being, being
once, as the entire concept of one we,
bottled up, capped, under pre-assurance
fizzy quantum could be good, try umph,
if it works with just a little tri, umph
is good, but too much try, defeats
all umph willing to spin donuts,
and make smoke,
real, do this for a living, allatime,
our mental realm, realm-mighty fine,
realm of overwhelming reasons, actual ways
forcing adverse reactions, working statistical,
ifical and magi knowing, chances are we find
a mindstate, a point in pastless space effects
-timeless efforts imagining timelessness,
energize the whole process, peace made on war.

any willing to imagine finding a story that allowed
first gift I received in California, was a video tape
"The Never Ending Story". Noted, on the pages,
using the pre-Ai antagonists reverse twist,

to watch the flow go the other way, because we can
think in terms of instant replay, way out of bounds,
unless, yes, more further still, will we achieve,

the assumed we that docents use to lead into
the intial levels of money for being born on Earth,

as the most precious resource in the new U
Rules of Engagement, guage response, twist,

make time a test, patience, use, intuited ew, mustard

state is interesting, al ways stop, see, resting
inter mental construement, stretching a point,
intermittent messaging confirmed
intended to catalyze
furthermore
as double tribomechanically activated zeolite clinoptilolite  
-- that's real, we, at our most wide imaginable weform,
we make good use of that stuff… the bubble
of those who know what use it has, is small…
---------------
furthermore, yes, tobe, to be, robed as truths known
beautifully malleable - substance, stuff, material re-ality,
ra' thirst signal, loss of ductility, embending doom,
Costco Mango Juice, could not be sweeter, assume,
in my per-if-I wish to pay attention,
to the sound of a grandaughter singing,
as if the whole world should hear how happy she is,
and she forgot, here, in this same spirit then had in it
us, the others in the prime state of life,
in this instance, first day of autumn,
in rolling chapparal,
fire season, always was predictable, or successfully
prayed away, as we always gathered,
after Harvest Moon,

times for being simple human sapien, sapiently pass, hope
working all the wonders first discerned, when old ways
amen
made a bond
and old measures taken
to make good balance, valuable
knowledge for spindles and wheels and axel hubs,
and steel belted radial tires, same idea, balance,

smooth turn, return,
remediation meditation situation,
ryhmes rime **** head tilts,
looks at us, askance asking have we noticed

life seems more worth preserving, while conserving,
eh, weighing the worth of knowing why,

Mayan society developed into what Mexico is today,
infected with the stories that survived the book burnings,

same form of knowledge ra', pride's pa, mine

plead ingeniousness, wissen und kennen ignosis
ignition, iggy pop… spark, breath, flame, tickle, feel

the curling in the toes of those with hell holding theories,

the weapons of my warfare, my mind made augmentable,
ready readers prodigies, easily shaped
into informal weforms  

-- old man, what was that like,
you moved to town in 1943,
as an eleven year old boy…

-- well, he said, we had electricity.
and that made quite a difference…

my mother's younger brother, some how
that tie never broke, we spoke,
this is furthermore, 2024,

I am imagining, which, it seems is a game,
devised, I have been advised to keep my mind
on track, for total catalytic disillusionment,

after the convergence of learned ways
true math works out for good, while money

invested in creating collectively minded individuals,
team mind binders, collectively educated,

classically, conserves the original intent behind,
the curtain on the navel of the world, so shy,
noble lie, guardians are essential minds to make up;
action movies did the trick, right, Aldous,
Ape and Essences gets its props.
boom
blink of an eye, instantly too strange to rearrange,
set and setting, trust and obey, define, our range,

our bubble of being the we involved in the event,
your reading our last will and testament, in terms

as yet undiscerned, on balance, taking all we grew through,
as if we grew from those environs,
not those ones in Dublin,

or Flushing, or Boca Raton… tabula rasa

where peace begins, you

hold your breath to find it, you stop
I stop
you think, I think, we both breathe, but
across the actual experiential universe, as awe
the state, expands as more outs come on,

sparklers from my soul, good vibrations,
only taken to extremes, never let seem ordinary

these days are not our dreams, this is as planned,
manifestation of fruiting bodies
seed, time, harvest, process, put to good use,

mankind, wombed or un, augmented or not, mankind
sows seeds of same kindness,

golden rule, straight edge sharper than any two edged sword,
light saber sharp, the mythteriothity, sheer shibbolethargy,

energize any idea, a ra' idea, hard to think possible, but, known
knowing such things, the depths of literary depravity, made
literally true, due to capital investments in lead, and coal,
and copper and all the minerals Afghanistan has,

war, takes my breath away, I am intending combat,
at one level of preparation, this feels laughingly enjoyable.

Take truth's bitter sweet knowledge, we all know, to some degree

what happens when any we forms an agreement no I may break,

it is no secret what truth does to hidden shamefilled monstors.

U on the pond, reflecting, who is asking you?

Should we all be actually required to become
a knower of the ruliad realms real estimate,

how long from nuclear antagnoboom whata a rush,

it's seventy two minutes, and counting,
down, so what's a manmindkind of thing
to do to be part in the last poem I may right,

let me count the days, if Daniel's right,
right, let us not think minutes, whose word

should we heed, here, ask truth, she is wisdom,
she say, how stupid are we, I ask,
and we agree we underst
ate the depth of our order, few ever read this.

So the feeling of a first time reader, is faded out…
The story gives itself& access to my used once tools to measure a minute's worth.

— The End —