I THINK THAT...
To write poetry, One must be simple too. Breathe among the clouds And clothe the soul in white. To keep rhyme as a friend, And a seasoned conscience. To make good use Of language in its Sunday best. To wait upon the infinite For what must yet be written. To have, like a skilful mage, A few tricks up one’s sleeve. But when I stand before you... Poetry is something lived. I am awash with emotion, As our auras intertwine. But when I stand before you... I no longer search for angels. I gaze at you.
NOT SO EASY
If you think it’s easy To walk upon a wire, To be your puppet— That worries me. You leave me only crumbs, Shouting No! Non!... or Niet! And to step out into the city... Means exile. I make love With words, Caressing you From mi to do. Without great detours, In crescendo. A tender gesture Upon the piano. Forever, Echoing voices Strike down stress And cry “Bravo!” I wished to be alone, Playful and in love, To see on my own face The look of a happy madman. I wished to be alone, Neither modest nor a beggar, To seize love by myself And make God jealous. I wished to be alone In my little room, Letting freely wander Your photo that hurts me a little.
MY HEAD IS FULL
It’s all inside my head, You leap from one dream To new dreams, No dark spot, never dull. Nothing but velvet, Colour, champagne And a glowing hearth. It’s all inside my head, You leap from one dream To new dreams, No dark spot, never dull. Nothing but velvet, Colour, love, And warm kisses. Like a flower in my head, Love keeps repeating, “A little, a lot, crazy about it all— A little, a lot… crazy about you!”
HOMELESS JOURNEY
To flee and disappear, Without fear or sigh, To leave without baggage, Naked and swimming. Far away, near the wise, For pleasure or rage, Not to die there But to grow. Without shelter, The rain becomes my collapsing roof, The sun that rusts. Without faith. I walk without fingers, I struggle on. How weary I am! Why am I here?
THE NAME
The name— It runs, this name, Around and along the horizon Of my passions. It carries a fragrance, this name, Of beauty, of kindness, Of a great love in gentle days. Still a marvel, When one reflects— All these words! Those who came before us, And taught us how to speak. All those women, The wise ones who bore us, Above all, taught us to feel.
ROMANTIC ROCK
For a wild romantic rock, A tender love, stronger than all. Angelic or diabolical, Let us toast to life and live it fully. Run, my wild romantic rock, Go tell the world that within us live —it is magical and authentic— Lovers who play, who make light of everything. We let our souls speak, Without ever blaming ourselves. We leap towards a flame, Love at its finest. Freedom for man, freedom for woman, …For all. Without two beings seeking passion, No horizon, no chance in the end. Without a tale of dreams and illusions… No child’s dream for grown-ups. Without knowing when, without knowing where… Even in two thousand years—a rendezvous. Like a secret, like a mystery… Let us shake everything, even the gurus. Through your caresses, I acquired the taste… Of your tenderness… with the heart as the trump card. No ball and chain, no rope around the neck… Let us live our wild romantic rock.
BAR-BAR DREAM
Like zombies Lost in the night, Alcohol vapours And blue clouds. Wild powder And a bar-bar dream. We run So late… so late! Beauties in moonlight, Machos with misty hearts. Brief flashes of life Wrapped in boredom, Werewolves without the moon, Witches in the headlines. A wordless glance, The right words! A gesture suggests For rosy bodies, The ultimate symbiosis. The heart beats with desire. If the two souls flee, Brains light up, Desires smoulder, Forgetting the pain. The heart a little heavy, No one resists, Strange osmosis, Bandage and dose. From silence to cries, All of us, night after night, We split, from bar to bar. Wild and barbaric nights, Nocturnal affairs, Society inhales, Solitudes dare, Oblivion proposes, Forgiveness disposes.
IN SONG
I’d like to live by your side, Day after day, Wrap you in happiness, Give you care and attention. The best of me, in simple human ways… The very best. I’d like to brush against your heart, Softly, Without frightening you. Stroke your hair, your breasts, Hour after hour, tenderly. From pleasure into joy, Hour after hour. I’d like to hide inside your dreams, Loving you, Delighting you—surprising you. To give myself, then gather myself back, To pour myself out intensely, Without a jolt, Vividly. I’d like, in the morning, to wake up, Calmly. Call to you as you rise, Introduce you to the sun, With reverence, As my queen, Within its warmth, Under your rule. I’d like, each day with you, Simply, To learn you again, To declare my love, With passion, To cry out this prayer. I’d like, each time we meet, In innocence, To learn you again, To charm you, to love you. Simple passion! With fervour. With fervour.
ROMANCE IN NOTES
A word set to music, just for the two of us in love. Notes that speak to you of a great happiness, bright with enchantment. Fingers that… …touch within our hearts. Bodies that exchange, again, again— my love. Glances tender and soft, that caress each other by chance. Lovers carry a dream without a story: to love forever, then to fly away like angels.
LIBERATING RAP
Take your nightmares, your old blues. Shove it all in the closet. Do not wait for the next whisper, the second mirage, nor the final draw. Aim straight for happiness. Forget fear. That suitcase full of old pain. Get ready— naked and unarmoured, without anger or rage, for a brand-new face. Oops! Wait—be wise. Flee the hour too brief, Walk farther along the shore. Avoid polluted beaches, sacred monsters, thirsty liars.
FIRE’S SURGE
I’d like to have immense lips To cover your body in a trance With a kiss Like a blazing fire.
BOLD WORDS
Unsettling stranger who freezes me, haunts me— Would I dare speak to you without being marked? To step towards you— you, the elegant one. To tell you words more than inviting. And to point with my hands… damp and hesitant, to the place touched by you, whom I praise. A consecrated place where the dream seeks a hidden altar where my soul sacrifices itself. Would I dare speak to you, unsettling stranger, without naming myself— from my frightened heart.
THE ESCAPED BREEZE
Like a gentle breeze passing through my dreams, brushing me without touching, fleeing by mistake. To catch it by surprise, to bind it—even in flight. At the risk of sinking. There—my final foolishness. To search, always search. This breath, gentle as a breeze, refusing the wager, gambles with my freedom. To run and drink my fill from the source I pursue— the haunting fear forever: never to reach it. Tell me why that exquisite music hid itself away, secretly, to sing the charm of the farther shore. Like a gentle breeze, it gleaned from my dreams a stillborn love— whatever one may say.
DREAMS APART
Separated by time. Will eternity unite us? Will we be together there? Will we be married there? Each day the same torments, the same imagined joys. Thinking of her more often than of God. A fascinating image! Like water that draws you in, like fire that keeps you warm… I…! I desire! My eyes—without pleasure. My hands—without warmth. No beauty, no sensuality. No body… no heart… Never will that voice speak to me. Never will my breath mingle with hers. To stop myself from dreaming of it…! Without reflecting, without thinking. Like a secret laid bare. I am not small— I…! I am base!
NIGHT CRIES
To cry out to the night, to weep inside my dreams, to choke on boredom— my soul comes undone! Hope is the enemy. For me, the great truce! Here, my heart lies fallen. Another death? What is wrong with me? Life on every side! Love… besieges it! What ails her? Is she forgetting me? Yes! I am dying from every side.
MELODY OF FOOTSTEPS
Minute by minute, blue into blue, green into green, rain imitates snow through a sadness that whitens, whitening the thoughts of footsteps— musical ones—replaying symphonies only a child’s step can create. Minute by minute, hour by hour, colour sings of winter, the only universe that can frighten hell. Black hell. White of the desert will choke it until it bleeds.
WEATHER OF THE SOUL
Blizzard, rain, storm. Whatever the saying, heart set to work— to step aside from life. One image or a thousand, precious and wise, will not erase the rage of evil crying out. A passing mood seeks no message but the worth of age, whatever the mind may say. To break the cage without harming the being we honour— self or other. Each day, weaving— unafraid of the task— to ripen while drenched, to fall silent before life.
THE GARDEN OF DREAMS
My head is one of those very strange universes, more often than not turned upside down. Yet like a storyteller in an open book… the dream lives there and wanders. Like a child fed by his games, it enlightens me… …towards life and its great mysteries. It steals from reality—joys or miseries— all kinds of images it brings back to me. As for this one, no explanation! Even if it exaggerates. According to its moods, it leads them into trouble. No matter the message to utter or to conceal— it is a fine coward who leads them. A madman!… He plucks a face like a flower in prayer. From her eyes flows a friendly light, so ravishing, so gentle, and above all so proud… of the wisdom flowing through her veins. I confess: for this flower, I am my dream’s accomplice! Impossible to resist—too beautiful a bargain!? Even if, in her life, she scarcely knows more than brief encounters that unsettle me. No doubt, to them I owe apologies!… My conscious mind excludes them—my subconscious prefers her! Slipping soft pleasures into my imagination, I see the Gardens of Eden. The spirit venerates this rose, beautiful as a woman. More: I believe love would be stone-hearted… …if in her life she did not already have a sincere man to support her through her sorrows. A being so exquisite cannot live without diversion. How could one not imagine a rival? Confront him? Stir trouble? Raise hell? Within that couple… whatever may come? To desire her, at the grave risk of displeasing her? No! Certainly not! But one must also… …appreciate her for what she is, within my winter. Poetic gleam—made mine.