C’est un recueil de poèmes publié durant l’été de 2001. La reliure était artisanale et cousu à la main. Les textes s’y retrouvaient tels qu’ils ont été listés ici en ordre alphabétique à la différence que le recueil se divisait en deux parties différentes, une pour chaque langue utilisée. La première fois que ces textes furent mis en ligne ils avaient été placée chacun sur une page relié à un index principal… cette fois, par souci de facilité la chose et les futures re-copiages, je les place en continue sur une seule. La date indique habituellement le moment où j’ai considéré le poème achevé. Considérant le temps que j’y ai déjà consacré par le passé, entre 1994 et 2001, multiples re-copiages dans différents cahiers de notes, l’édition du premier site web, la fabrication du premier recueil… je ne cherche pas particulièrement à trop les relire sachant bien que je n’en finirais plus. Si je commence à nouveau à chercher à comprendre ces trucs et me remettre dans l’état d’esprit complètement malade d’absurdité et de non sens … ouf, mieux pas trop y penser, coller copier, je sais d’avance que c’est du n’importe quoi parsemé à l’occasion de bout de phrases semi cohérentes donc pas besoin de trop s’y attarder… encore XD Seule chose peut-être à noter: certaines dates sont approximatives, et plusieurs textes en date de 2001 furent en réalité écrit aussitôt qu’en 1995 dans certains cas mais la date de publication remplaça celle de composition et de re-écriture souvent absente de mes vieux cahiers et notes éparpillés.

This is the order in which they appeared in both 2001 publications (online and print), and in which it would be preferable to approach them:

C’est l’ordre dans lequel ils figurent dans le recueil et l’ordre préférable de lecture:

alphabétiquement / alphabetically:
FR: Abducteur Abominant Adduction, 2001
EN: A Day of Night, 2001
EN: Attacking Heart, late 1197
EN: Blitzen summer 1999
EN: By the River summer 2001
EN: Contemplation 1996-1997
EN: Contracts 1998-2001
EN: Corrosive 1996
EN: D-U summer 1995
EN: DSDO4 summer 2001
EN: Enough April 1998
FR: Espace Vie 2001
EN: Fire night of 15-16th august 1999
EN: Fuzzy Love spring 1997
EN: Grand Prix summer 1997
EN: It Must Be So Mai 1998
FR: J’eu Dit 2001
FR: Je Lui Dis 2001
FR: Le jour de la nuit fin 1998
FR: Le Roi hiver 1998-1999
FR: Les Anges de A à Z 2001
FR: Minuit Approche 2001
EN: Mud Found In 1996
EN: The Name of the Game summer 1999
EN: NATURE not want april 1998
EN: New Day 04\1998
EN: Next to you fall 1997
EN: Paradox 1996
EN: Play With Your Stick 1999-2001
FR: Quand dort la Nuit 1998-1999
FR: Réalitez 2001
EN: Roachville 08\1999-2001
FR: Sentiments d’à l’envers 2001
EN: Some People Sit Down and Write April 1998
EN: The Hole: Truth fall 1996
EN: There is no Y winter 1997
EN: Thirteen (13) 1997-2001
EN: This Appear early 1996
EN: Try: take #2 04\1008-2001
EN: Unlive Unlife 2000
EN: Yourself 1996

par/by bleedleaf



Abducteur Abominant Adduction

Sombrent les funestes échos
Flamboyante tergivence refoulée
La mort lui répond

Je ne serai jamais pour toi
Il n’y a ce rien
Que tu vois en moi
Ce vide que tu recherches
Ne peut exister en moi
Toutes les limites imposées
Par le langage de ta pensée
Ne sont pas même de loin
Suffisantes ou justifiable dans
Un contexte m’impliquant

Tout ce que tu as
aurais, auras, pourras
ou pourrais imaginer
Que je suis
Je ne serai jamais
Je ne peux être apprivoisée
Pas moins dans le monde physique
Où toujours je rage de vivre
Que dans le territoire de la pensée
Où à jamais je suis un pas devant
Ou un pas derrière tes désirs
Et malgré tout
Éternellement liée
Quoi que ce soit, où que ce soit
À cet état où nul qui que ce soit
Ne puisse réfléchir en ma présence.

Et lorsqu’il eût compri
Il vit l’illusion, il aperçut le piège
L’être qu’il avait rencontré
Lui avait permis de réfléchir
Lui donnait ainsi temps pour la chasser

Cet être devra rencontrer celle qu’elle prétend être
Ou elle l’amènera lui-même vers son destin



A Day of Night

The day is when
The night is at peace, I sleep
…When I you will hear…
…Hear you talk of what…
…What else to say but me…
…Me being the only…
…Only for you speak of I…
…I who cannot stay, can’t…
…Can see the voice which hears…
…Hears I, who speaks…
…Speaks of you without pain…
…Pain in the absence of silence…
…Silence killed by I who thinks…
…Thinks of you but will not say…
…Say you exist only for me…
…Me who waits only for you…
…You who will pretend to speak…
…Speak then hide when he exits…
…Exits the space where…
…Where truth can only be…
…Be patience without silence…
…Silence the self cannot support..
…Since “I” speaks to the self…
…Support me hearing…
…Hearing without answer…
…Answer by fear…
…Fear of accepting…
…Accepting without sound…
…Sound that will but pass…
…Pass through my mind…
…Mind which began it all…



Attacking Heart

Convolution of hired states
Of minds and men, abroad
Many tried, tired at treads
Of collapse to undo in triads
What was done in full.
Many failed, were flayed into
False beliefs now foiled by fate.

The distance made low by a
Distasteful glow from a surely
Hasteful kind of guy.
More mirrors might move many
Out towards areas outlined
By still more…
Into hollowed hills havoc shall halt
And the searching commences to find.
Walls like veils…
Entering echoes disturb and awake,
Rigorously ransacked rooms reveal rivals
Of many kinds yet none of one,
Which would be one they seek?
Dead-ended doorways doting directly
Into impenetrable images illuminated inside.
Twisting paths snaking
Through parks adorned.
Parting with pictures,
Facing the fray.

Where will it end, who shall obey?
Who shall conquer?
What should I say…

-late 1997



Just letting the time pass away
Nothing left to do not even worth
Forward and back to stay in place
To keep in pace with demons chasing
Watching degradations hard to stabilize
In times where majik is “un-know
Mazes becoming more intricate yet dull
Staying ahead in the wait battles to
But an instant of infinity for no more
For being rightly able to leave they
Innocent or in a cent sounds like
Such as many needless questions
As are unleashed to any and all yet
It all seems to fall upon me always
Rising out with less bleak ideas to face
In high spirit folded reality sadly often


(To be, read through without pause)

-summer 1999


By the River

There I sit, lost in your eyes
Staring at the river, thinking of you
In mind only the memory of your stare
How else could I not sink in gloomy despair
Here, in ideal space for such inspirations

Alone in nature, on the rocky riverbank
Mountains far away on the horizon
Trees densely covering all the opposite shore
The strange island towards which I gaze
Away from the villas and scattered foliage
Away from the broken and scattered sharp edges
Of brown, green, and white glass bottles
Carelessly thrown there, no doubt
By lovers of nature who came here to admire it
Who came to feel it, to smell it, to fish it

The glass and other filth
The cigarette butts
The plastic bags or wrappers
The muck foaming up where ground meets water
Brought in by the same polluted water
That once gave birth to the fish
Now dead and rotting on the shore
Offering us their stench

No, the overwhelming signs of human nature
They are not complaints
They are facts
How can I complain
When I have your eyes to think of

-summer 2001



What if one day we realized that
no more need we struggle
no more need we fight

Where can you get paid to just contemplate
If we already know we are our worst enemy
when again was war declared
Why believe peace as inaccessible
because many just would not care
why would they

It is sad that
it could take but one bad seed
to ruin harvest
but one loose screw to sink the largest ship
where is that skrew

Only things may be flawed…
may only…
Could there be an adept without discipline
A professional at nothing
A specialist of everything

An animal born lacking some instincts
could it be not considered gifted

May the game be watched or merely played




You make promises with people:
You give your word.
You sign contracts with the Devil:
You give your soul.
Because you know the Father of Lies,
He doesn’t really trust anybody now does he?
“Yeah sure guy! Take it, go right ahead.”
All the while thinking: “Yeah right… Not!”
“Yeah, I’ll give it to you for_________________________”
(Please enter your request above)

You know, the Dark One is quite good… at detecting sarcasm.
You should.

It is why the Evil Lord requires contracts,
And if you can spare some blood
Just fill in the two doted lines.
Of course, he can only have you if you believe…
The contract can however give you problems
… should you ever decide to back down.
And you can bet that Satan has easy access to layers.
If you think you have no soul,
Or are confident in your layers abilities,
Be his guest.
But be careful, if you believe you’re screwed…
And -you know who- will be laughing
All the way to the bank, the Soul Bank,
‘Cause he is after all the bad guy.

I, ______________________________,
(please sign above)
willfully submit myself to Satan,
according to terms he will specify,
in exchange for the condition filled in on line 9.




Hidden behind the eyes of madness
-many pretend to see-

Beyond the shadows of future sadness
-often overfilled with glee-
(hidden beyond)

The stare of souls repeatedly eclipsed
-undying even in apathy-
(hidden beyond the)

Lights of scribbled lives not missed
-forgotten we think… maybe-
(hidden beyond the lights)

Of ruined deaths not scratched correct
-like acid corroding silently-
(hidden beyond the lights of)

Mind fades: knots drop wrongly set
-it all comes incoherently-




In a world of ideas
Somewhere beyond time
Existed a perfection
No one could call mine

Like water over a bridge
Or a festival for misery
Struggling for the salvation
Of love not meant to be

Then it all disappears
Like echoes in a darkness unknown to love
And when the night collapses
Will she be there waiting
Like a long lost memory
Something that never was but could be

Like stars on a blue sky
Or like a tear amongst the clouds
Where anything can happen
For never is always but now

And it all disappears
Like echoes in a darkness unknown to love

-summer 1995


Death Suite Dream Opus For…

Oh Death, sweet loving Death,
Ever present in the face of being
Forsaken have you made me.
Do I not serve? What of this consciousness?
When will you adoring woman
Bring onto me complete cessation
Of all my thoughts on life?
My Death where are you?
Every eternal day I seek
And wait for your beautiful face,
In which I may forget what I am.
Lose me in your infinite emptiness.
Away from the torturing curse
Called life…
Ever patient will I be,
Live this life of insanity
Until you my love comes to me.
Bring me out of the living misery!
Death my love, you are
The only thing worth living for.
You are my every night’s wish,
Every morning’s hope and dream.
In you I see myself, my love
Death to set me free
From the chains of existence,
From the prison of the mind,
From the pollution of sights
sounds, and their memory.
Death my sweet come soon.
Death you are my love,
For whom I would do anything.
To be in love with Death is a gift,
A gift to be cursed
For to enjoy it means to live,
To live apart from your love.
Death, why have you released me
From the void of nothing?
I now live, though of the day aware…
No more comes of me,
I live each day, like if my first.
How could we appreciate silence
If sound we never heard?
How could we understand sound
If silence we never knew?
Alone I cannot be as being harasses me.
What is gained by presence with me?
Words cannot defeat, cannot betray you,
Our love.
Go fetch your sticks and stones,
My only was taken from me.
Death, finality, the infinitely love
Who cares by killing
All that stands in its loving way,
Saves by taking away
From everything that threatens,
Releases by capturing
in unrelenting embrace.
Death is my only friend,
But she avoids me until then…
Death my love you are my precious nothing
From where you are hidden, Death my darling,
Bring onto me your silence, my love.
I cannot stand to live but must,
I cannot wait but must
For people have forgotten how to kill.
Death my love, my darling, my only
Take this life that rapes.
Are you coming my dear?
Consciousness the torture.
Come closer my honey,
All the questions have been answered,
For me, my soft, there can’t be
Anything new.
You are hiding naughty one,
Why do you keep your servant alive?
When everyday is today
For you my sweet I start again
Each time the absurd theatre.
My Death my love what are you waiting?
It should not be impossible to answer,
Sweet love bring me into your arms
And deliver me loving Death,
From life, from hell, from loss, from me:
Now my life for you.
Ignore what fears I might have left,
Bring, lead me my love together we’ll be.
Together we will be not, be free, dead.
Free of this aberration, this insult to existence,
Which the mindless have made out of life.
Death, true goddess of all time,
Waiting your embrace with the barbarians
Who often only want yet another day,
The monkeys we call men.
Will they have, some day, one day of
Intelligence to see your finality?
Awareness of your void?
Let your touch remove the metal
From our wounds…
My soft returns…
I remember you…
Our short time…
Where we never met…
I miss you…
I love you…
My dreams are only of you




I feel I should do more,

I feel I did too much.

-April 1998


Espace Vie

Ô mort incertaine
Éventuelle et inévitable
Saches que tu ne me seras jamais oubliée
À toi de venir me chercher

Ma ville est cette phrase
Ma maison est ce mot
Mes actions sont ce verbe
Qui parfois même n’est que mon état

Partout où je pose ma plume
Je nais pour ensuite repartir
Au néant, quelque lettres plus loin
Pour apaiser par un espace ma faim

L’aventure me vient du songe
L’exploration de mon sortilège poétique
Qui m’isole en me libérant, mais libère
Par son mot mes images

Ô mort incertaine
Amie unique
Tu es mon seul salut
Le point final de mon paragraphe vivant

Je suis prêt
Je le serai, l’ai toujours été
Sache que je ne t’oublierai jamais
Ô toi qui viendra me chercher

Le verbe sera là pour me tenir compagnie
Je saurai calmer mon envie
De toi
De te voir venir vers moi

Attends et tu le verras, le temps passé,
Accordé, que tu m’auras donné,
Qu’ensemble nous aurons partagé,
Sera humblement apprécié.




Brings the age
Ended an era
From all fears he has turned
Within the ashes he has earned
There in death he lies in urn
For all the sorrow he will learn
Fiend for the families
Foe of the houses
Life giving fire
With its light from the sun
In liquid rises releasing chaos
Melted by the core of Earth
Charred plains: no more produce
Blazing forest wood
Faster than rot is recycled
From all the fear he has turned
Within the ashes he has earned
There in death he lies in urn
To swallow sorrow he will learn

-night of 15-16th august 1999


Fuzzy Love

I have yet to have met
I am still (standing sill)
Hoping and waiting
For the day when we may
Above all else forget not regret
And move beyond what is gone
In short leave perhaps weave
New histories, new memories

For the day when we’ll say
Without fears, without tears
That our past is at last
Part of us not of lust
Made of things that we bring
To our soul with the goal
To endure and ensure
A life not unlike a knife
On that edge we shall pledge
To remain although sane
With and without doubt

I have yet to have met
Sounds so blue yet is true
For one day I did hear her say:
But we was not meant
To include you

-spring 1997


Grand Prix

They set their mark
To win they all await the spark
Defeat they plan to block
To win so others they can mock

An infernal race
That for the soul is like the mace
That’s eating right through their tracks
So that none may relax

-summer 1997


It Must Be So

It must be so. Why?
These justly are mere words.
I chose a way how I can
Choose when there is none:
I make my own.
I would like to speak.
Does it know what is said before it is done?
Aren’t second chances just a false belief?
Can I understand?
How can we be sure we want to be, sure…
Sometimes I like would.
What is under our shadow,
Is it ok to know?
I do end it! How?
Where can I stop.
Everything is just once,
Is more just as much?
I would like it to be over
Though only when it’s done:
It is real death I wants.
If I comes again or is somewhere else,
I will not be me.
There is no way out.
There is the path home.
Is there what I meant?
Where is the escape:
Words are a weapon.
Remove my ceiling: my sky
Remove my sky: my stars
Ignore my stars and space.
Our chairs our chains.
One love one life, my choice.
I will choose if there is more,
Something else there left unsaid,
Though I will not be adding it

-Mai 1998


J’eu Dit:

Vois si ce que, MOI,
Je pends ce peu con
Tenir delà beau thé.
Mon ÇA me dit qui le nia que ça,
Mon SUR-MOI ne voeux pas en ad…
Mettre l’existe en ce.
Tout tait rien…
Peut être suivis de…
Vie de…
Du moins, tout peut l’être:
Mélancolie que…
Visa je…
Vise à je…
Testa ment…
Excellent ce…
Et colle…
Je tais me…
Nous vaut thé…
Con verse assi, on!..
Conversa scions…
Y magie n’assi on…
Y magie n’a si on…
Y magie nation…
Y magie n’a scions…
Toi émoi…
(Toi et moi)
Père du…
Perds dû…
M’en songe…
Peste y lance…
Mens sons je…
Peste il en ce…
Ment son je…
Eau qu’une…
(Perte de)
Paie r’te de…
Paix r’d’re…
Quel qu’un?

Hésite et…
Hésita scions…
Ère mythe…
Et Crie, Tue re…
Re garde…
À lu si n’a toi re…
À lu si nation…
Hallucine à si on…
Hallucina scions…
Commune au taire…
Comme eus n’ôtez…
…Eus n’eau thé…

Collais qu’ti ve…
Con t’es ce…
Re semble rat…
Juste: Mens…
Juste ment…

(J’y irai,)
Pas laid…
Fais: re…
Mens d’à reins…
Arrêt, thé…
Eux r’eux…
Au jour du “I…
Au tonne…
O tonne…
Tonne Ère…
Air et…

Pesante heure…
Y erre…
Eau jour, dû y…
Et terre, n’est le…
Ai ternit, thé…
Et terre nie thé…
Y lis à…
Illi… à
(Il y a,)



Je Lui Dis:

Je t’aime.

J’ai cru avoir lu quelque part dans cette réalité absurde pendant un moment
où j’étais sans doute sain d’esprit ou presque quelque chose du genre: dis
moi trois mots et je trouverai au moins cinq raisons de te faire pendre!
Alors pourquoi pas!

(Je t’aime tu?)
Je tais me tue.
Geai me tu.
(J’aime tu?)
Je tais me rang à mourre eux.
( rend amoureux.)
Je tais mais plu ce que pôt cible.
(Je t’aimais plus que possible.)
Jet mai…
J’hais me, m’hait me: la mourre.
(J’aime même l’amour)

Hais ne du vit de vie, devoir.
(Haine du vide vit de voir: ,)
Je tais, me r’hais: situe le vous d’r’hais.
(Je t’aimerais si tu le voudrais.)
Hais ne eihn puissante.
(Haine impuissante.)

Je tais me quand m’hait me.
(Je t’aime quand même,)
Je tais me ré qu’en m’aime.
(Je t’aimerai quand même,)
Je tais, me r’hait, m’hait, me scie l’or ce que
(Je t’aimerais même si lorsque)
Tu m’aime rat
(Tu m’aimeras)
Tu m’hais, me r’hait
(Tu m’aimerais.)

J’y magie. Nais.
J’y magie: n’hait…
…ne hait…
“J” magie n’est,
La mourre.
(I magie naît)

Mets que, faits re
(Mais que faire?)

Y a-t-il un sain Saint?
Un Saint sain?
(Un s’einh?*)
*Quelqu’un qui s’aurait confus de lui même,
qui se confond même dans le sein éternel.

Il hait mes: l’aimas teint…
(Il aimait: les matins.)
Il hait mes: lait faim de jour né…
(Il aimait: les fins de journée.)
Il hait mes “t’où?”.
[Thé où si boire?]
(Il aimait tout,)
Il est mais…
Il hait mes…
Il hait, m’hait…
Il sot rat…
(Il saura,)
Nous riz rond.
(Nous rirons)
Par ce que
(Parce que)
Le passe et
(Le passé)
N’est qui mage
(N’est qu’image)
De laisse poire
(De l’espoir)
Dune: memo à re
(D’une mémoire,)
Ai le fut tue re
(Et le futur)
Se que vous vous drille et
(Ce que vous voudriez)
Sang[s?], lut: y.
(Sans lui.)

À l’or que le présent
(Alors que le présent)
Hait où bien, un cas d’eau
[ré-mis fa sol la si do…]
(Est ou bien un cadeau)
Où eus ne part t’y dit s’teint qu’te d’eus tant
(Ou une partie distincte du temps,)
Où l’est d’eux, et vide à ment.
(Ou les deux évidemment.)
(Il semble que l’auteur ait voulu préciser que ànkh [la “clé de vie” ou
“croix ansée”], en ancient hiéroglyphe égyptien, voulut dire: la vie, ou
quelque chose comme ça. *Malheureusement, dans de nombreux textes, le
scribe estime que nous devons connaître non seulement l’alphabet, mais
aussi la lecture de beaucoup d’autres signes qui valent deux ou trois sons).
*Christian Jacq, Le petit Champollion illustré
(ÀNKH or?)
An qu’or?
Ans cor?
En corps?!?

[Con vaincu]

la mourre: Ancienn. Jeu de de hasard dans lequel deux personnes
se montrent simultanément un certain nombre de doigts dressés
en criant un chiffre pouvant exprimer ce nombre
(celui qui donne le chiffre juste gagne).


Moi aussi, elle me répond,
Moi aussi.



Le jour de la nuit

Elle ne vient que parfois
Ne reste point longtemps
Son repos inconnu
On se cherche

La nuit de la mort
C’est le jour de la vie
L’attente du retour
Du départ de l’autre

Tout est plus long
Lorsque la vie ne se montre
La journée éternelle continue
Se termine que pour recommencer

On me cherche, on me doute
Elle se perd dans les protecteurs
Vie, mort, solitude plus puissante
Oublie, perte, change, songe, revois

Qu’avait-elle, quand, perdue,
Où pour moi s’échappe sa douceur,
Dans ces mots qui ne sont peu,
Pour moi?

-fin 1998


Le Roi

Le Roi prit place,
Seul sur le banc
Avec place pour quatre
Il attend une mort qui ne viendra
Sûrement pas.
Le roi frappe, s’engage dans la guerre,
Se fait tuer et tue à son tour,
Le roi règne sur un silence incomplet.
Le roi meurt mort,
Le roi mort meurt.
Le calme est dans l’esprit du roi,
Il meurt, mourra et
Le roi mort laisse place à un autre roi
Qui de sa caverneuse tombe
Attend sa mort.
Mais un intrus se pointe
Suivit d’un autre,
Et puis à la mort du roi
Une armée à la puissance de trois
Tente sans succès de déplacer le roi.
Les constructions étrangères
Des sans roi
Passent mais ne font que distraire
Le roi qui meurt à coup de bâton
Par un absent d’esprit qui oublia de tuer le roi.

Les bardes et les troubadours
S’efforcent mais aucune musique
Ne réussit à tuer le roi.
Qui meurt par la suite.
Et voilà qu’arrive le roi
Avec son bouffon.
Le roi reste, meurt, et puis reste mort.
La cour et ses nobles se font la guerre,
Le roi prend position
Et puis arrive la mort de tous.
Un roi prend le trône
Puis dicte aux esclaves,
Tous ceux qui ne sont pas lui, roi,
Leurs tâches pour la présente dynastie présente.
Roi n’est point celui
Qui tue femme
Et donc la mort arrive au roi
Qui l’embrasse de toute partie.
Un vaillant coup d’épée
Et puis le roi
Se rend absent
À sa mort.
Le roi considère ses options,
Choisi la mort.
Les bombardements ennemis
Rapidement disparaissent,
Les soldats du roi acceptent l’assassina du roi.
Au jour suivant, les machines d’infernaux
Recommencements recommencent leur train-train
Habituel, mais l’erreur que fait toujours le roi…
À l’arrivée du nouveau roi,
Il se choisit une prostituée
Qu’il ne trouva ni si sensuelle
Ni si morte,
La mort suivit de façon naturelle.
Le roi change de disque et meurt à ces mots.
Il a prit position
Qu’arrive la mort de tous.

-hiver 1998-1999


Les Anges de A à Z

J’étire mes ailes
Et puis je m’envole dans l’air
Toujours je monte plus haut
Sans jamais la peur de retomber

Que ferais-je aujourd’hui
D’autre que de descendre
Près de la baie
Pour calmer ma soif
Pour être avec la vie?
Atterrir pour de l’eau
Ou lui demander un thé
Pour peut-être lui parler
La questionner sur sa vie
Elle me répondra
Qu’elle lève sa hache
Qu’elle coupe son bois
Qu’elle lance ses dés
Et elle dira
D’aimer tout ce que l’on peut avoir

Mais il me faudra repartir
Elle me répètera
Elle dira: aime
Et je le ferai pour tout ce que j’ai
C’est la meilleure des choses dans tous les cas



Minuit Approche

La lumière se fait rare
Il me serait temps de dormir

Cependant je ne peux m’arrêter
Je t’ai promis de continuer
De ne pas voir ta bonté, de ne pas t’accepter
De jamais t’accorder ta beauté, de vivre

Mais il se fait tard
Et peut-être préfèrerais-je le cauchemar

Tu es rage, souffrance, tu es le feu de notre âme
En tout cela tu es néanmoins la passion et l’amour
Une âme violée, abattue, emprisonnée
Et seule pour la libérer: une perte

Le matin s’approche
À toi toujours je m’accroche
Un sommeil viendra
Un repos
Pour le corps
Pour l’esprit
Qu’un voyage dans le temps

Car lui, mon âme
Son sommeil, son repos
Ne me donnera aucune chance
D’en ressortir
D’en aimer la présence
Aucune chance
D’y relaxer
D’y être soi
De grandir
Aucune chance
Qu’un souvenir qui vieillit



Mud Found In

Thought only the in that found mud
Desperatly lost their place in motion,
Always said but never was
Fit outside the chains that hold strong,

Discovered all four cures against feeling stupid,
Plays and helps hope when everything ruins it.

Scream I need a radaR
Radar A: need I scream

It ruins everything when hope helps and plays
Stupid feelings against cures for all discovered.

Strong hold that chains the outside fit
Was never but said always:
Motion in place, they’re lost desperatly
Dumb found that in the only thought.



The Name of the Game

Tell me again of the name of the game
Showing me of the name of the game
Remind me what is of the name of the game
Reassure us that is of the name of the game
Learnin’ bout of the name of the game
Future of the name of the game
Balance in of the name of the game
Do you know of the name of the game

Irony of the name of the game
Scream ‘n shout for of the name of the game
Nothing new about of the name of the game
Lonely knight of the name of the game

Nearing end of the name of the game
How to end of the name of the game
Will I miss of the name of the game
Secret pleasures of the name of the game
Learned about of the name of the game
Appreciating still of the name of the game
I gladly finish of the name of the game
Say what is left of the name of the game

-summer 1999


NATURE not want

You don’t understand!
This might be because you are right,
I being the one who doesn’t understand.
But until you make me realize that,
You just don’t understand.

nature makes no room for waste
nature recycles what it does not need

Humans have what they want.
There is also what they don’t want,
But that’s just garbage.

If it produces shit then I guess it’s doing something good, right?
I mean if it shits, it’s good… right?
If it’s doing shit, it’s doing something good.

After all, isn’t oxygen shit from the trees?

Someday, we might be all that is left of what was once called nature.
If first we don’t also kill ourselves.

NATURE does not know what want is

We crap all our lives
And when we finally die,
We leave behind the biggest piece of crap we ever made.

I meant the fact that it actually compacts all the nutrients it does not need,
So that other life forms can use it,
In this practical little package is… I mean… ahw shit!

When you think of nature,
Do you think of shit?
You should cause it’s all it is.

-April 1998


New Day

Things are being destroyed around me
Life is its own prison
I’m seeing faces I never had before
The people are the same
Why can’t I say what I want to say
Why is this life

I want what I was before
Before you injected your drugs
Already man I knew not what you were
I knew not what I lost
Have I the world or has the world lost me
Is it nowhere in between

That is where I was
This is what I thought

We look for dreams we never strive for
We do this thing that’ll never be done
Do we wait for this thing that’ll never come

Life has already happened
Words don’t say enough
Why this is life



Next to you

If none as sound
As the ground
Next to a tree
None as joyous
As the loudest
Who believes it to be

I have chosen not to fight.
I have chosen not to flee.
I have chosen not destruction.

Without depth be profound
And from all we’ll surround.
With a memo she has told,
What as a night all must behold.
What in truth none shall say
Unless it be so, in their way.
As an obstacle it must have meant,
Faced by the test they lost all strength.

If none as sound
As the ground
Next to a tree
Next to you
Next to me
Where else would we be

-fall 1997



Deep out of things called life
Shallow faces of lies

Screams of silent fears
Whispered in dreams of confusion
Remembered from a dark dimension
Forgotten pictures, forgotten years

Losing faith in innocence
Gaining pain from wisdom
Fallen victims of delirium
Rise out of decadence

Hidden circle of interjection
Revealed as it disappears
Aspires to one day break the tears
Expires according to selection

Loving somehow the boredom
Ignoring the longing for presence
Divorced for offending resemblance
Joined by a search for freedom

In forming a perfect cube
Out of asymmetrical squares



Play With Your Stick

So again I sit here with you
To write about things to do
My only escape from this place
Free I roam in letters I place

Sadness or joy
Either way I’m the toy
Healthy or sick
I just play with my stick

To please help me I ask
To ask the words I write
To escape from the life I need

And when I start to run
It’s like now as I hide
Behind sentences for your eyes

Whether it be sadness or joy
Either way I’m a toy
No matter how healthy or sick
I just play with my stick



Quand dort la Nuit?

Le jour est le temps lorsque
La nuit se fait paix, je dors…
…lorsque je vous entends…
…entends-tu qui parle de quoi…
…quoi dire d’autre que moi…
…moi n’étant que le seul…
…seul car vous parlez de moi…
…moi ne pouvant rester, ne pouvant…
…pouvant voir que la voix qui entend…
…entend, entendais-je qui lui parle…
…parle de moi sans souffrir…
…souffrir de l’absence du silence…
…silence tué par ce qui pense…
…pense à moi sans le dire…
…dire que vous n’êtes que pour moi…
…moi qui n’attends que pour toi…
…toi qui prétends me parler…
…parler mais te cache quand tu sors…
…sors de l’endroit où…
…où la vérité ne peut qu’être…
…être que patience sans silence…
…silence que je peux supporter…
…supportez de m’entendre…
…entendre sans répondre…
…répondre par la peur…
…peur de m’accepter, nous…
…accepter sans un bruit…
…bruits qui ne font que passer…
…passer par mes pensées…
…pensées qui les commencent…




Nous l’imaginons d’une façon
De cette réalité nous projetons
Notre regard créatif
Pour en recevoir ensuite
Une image pré-construite
De nos rêves descriptifs.

La triste réalité
Est enfouie dans l’éphémère
D’un regard surpassant
Vers le ciel étoilé
Sans issue, sans portière
Dans un présent daté d’hier

Je ne veux rien écrire
Ce ne sont que des mots
Qui ne savent qu’être lus
Qui ne servent qu’à comparer
Mais parfois qu’à comprendre

Qui suis-je?
Je ne suis personne
Je ne suis que moi-même
Où suis-je?
Mais je ne suis
Je ne suis donc nul part
Quand suis-je?
Lorsqu’il me faut suivre
Mais je suis sans être




Here lies
Yet therefor grows
Leading minds
Working stiffs
Fighting soldiers
Profiting makers
Traffics truths
To ever avoid
Set grooves and tracks
Placed forth to follow
As the many must be calm
Comforted and valored
Cheated by words themselves
They are cast aside, tossed

(I’m always resisting the urge to add a “Care for a salad?” line at the end…)


Sentiments d’à l’Envers

Sans coeur!
Plus pauvre des imbéciles!
Tu t’attriste de ta mort
Tu n’aimes pas
y penser
Car la vie tu la veux
Pleine de joie
Remplie de choses jolies
Mais la mort, elle?
Et la mort te déprime…
Ta mort?
Elle t’inquiète
Te confond
Te surpasse
Elle t’écrase?
Te Libère!
Te libère de la perte
Cette perte de tout ce que tu prétends aimer
tu peux aimer,
Tu ris et tu jouis
La jouissance de la vie
Tu oublies pour être heureux
N’aimes-tu pas ce qu’après
Tu ne perdras plus jamais?

Es-tu Homme? Car tu es Homme
Tu es fort, tu te bas, tu ne pleures Le Menteur
Tu lui ris, tu lui cries, tu recherches, lui souris
Car tu es Homme
Tu ne peux que croître
Tu croîs
Même la croix.

C’est alors qu’assis à la table de satan
“Je t’ai menti…” il me dit confiant.
Je réponds d’un rire discret, tout doucement:
“Menteur, tu ne m’as jamais menti.”
Pour ensuite regarder vers les cieux
Me tourner envers Dieu
À Lui
J’ai crié:

Sans coeur!

Mort à jamais

Sans avoir eu la chance
De lui dire Pourquoi
pleurer la joie
et le rire
de la tristesse.



Some People Sit Down and Write

Some people sit down and write. They’ll go on and on for pages and pages.
They’re obviously trying to tell us, or someone, something.
For pages and pages these people describe for us
what it is they are attempting to make us see, what it is they are talking about.

You can read through all they have to say
for pages and pages: “That is what they’re talking about,” or
“that’s what he or she meant” you’ll then be able to say.
You might be right.

The author might be telling you something…
you already know.
The author might know this.

I can’t write like that. I would have to, first, sit down
and write, then go on and on for pages and pages saying:
“This is not what I’m talking about,
that is not what I am trying to say,” or
“these are not what those meant.” And go on,
and on, until I run out of things that have been said.
And what if I would?
Pages and pages of things I didn’t want to write! What then?

Then, when there is nothing left to say, my story will begin.
Then, when we all know what I’m not saying,
I’ll try for pages and pages
to make you understand something you probably never will.
But you might.

-April 1998


The Hole: Truth

Never will it work
Yet never will it stop
And one day it will begin anew
To progress in the opposite direction
Of what we thought, exactly
Because it will lead to where
We wish escape

For if nothing is true
Then nothing is false
And when you feel
You have proven a point
A chance were you given, a break
A bone

Is it absolutely true that none may find
The absolute truth?

Always remember that
Sentence may be found
Which will sour all sound
Will afoul all your rights
Make righteous your fears ‘n hates
Make saints of your demons
And dogs of your heroes

If your god asked you to be ready
To give up what you hold
Most dear
Would you not have to be
To give up God itself?

-fall 1996


There is no Y

Zero of zeroes
Xenophobes of thought
Wheeling of eternity
Veracity of truths
Unequaled of equals
Treatments of misfortune
Sickening of pain
Revival of what
Questions of dimension
Passage of flames
Opium of peers
Noses of dissent
Maze of shadows
Lake of fears
Knight of angers
Joys of awakening
Images of faith
Hero of songs
Glitters of fame
Feathers of fortune
Epics of blood
Dances of remembrance
Chains of freedom
Bonding of spirits
Arrival of one

-winter 1997


Thirteen (13)

The pain so horrible
The mask so bright
The darkness so clear
The moment so near

Alone they must go
Apart they must face
Till dusk will it fight
To take back the night

Illusions, enfeebled
All distant darkens
Fog up to the knees
Until death be you riddled

But until they meet
Each other is weaker
And none shall awaken
Should one live never again



This Appear


As it is
Is Life a rhetorical answer.
Creation an immortal’s sin.
When Death acts as a mother,
Saving all that is.

Satan appealing to God
To end the years of hate
While continuing to warp my fate
That’s when the brain will say “What’s odd?”

Why, kill a thing of beauty!
Have you ever asked yourself…
Or is the thunderous mind under Destruction
By clouds of Voices
To which you say, inside…

Forget, memory victim to theft
Joys and Pains
Taking off
But never


-early 1996


Try: take #2

I have tried
(I still do)
To do everything.
It doesn’t work,
Nothing seems to happen.
Heck, might as well
Do something instead.



Unlive Unlife

Traps are all I hear or see
Into myself I thus retreat
Must I hate all surrounding me
For cursed by life am me
But why? I love life
In the cold face of creation
Am I not like those who hope for another day?
In misery I live, wrap myself in
Yet I long for more life, for more
The moments pass and yet do I feel for life
How could one despise so much
Despise what in depth one can’t get enough of
At an age where death seems so far away
And already I cry, cry my own loss
The inevitable loss of the body

I cry now for the day when I’ll face
When I know no more days will come
For in those moments I wont have time
No time to cry, only to laugh
Laugh at existence which confuses me so
Laugh at the face of death
Okay I want my life to cease
But I don’t want to die
How can I feel love even towards death
Death so cold, so unfeeling
Finite lives
Eternal death
I love
I die




And what if I knew where I was going
What if I did dream after all
What if with all the shame and sorrow
I still did not want to play at life
The way it is said to be played
What if I found no interest in power
Or luxury or comfort, or even in safety
What if I fulfilled all your loser adjectives
And punish your errors, no
Because I think them not worth arguing
What if I did not fight over places
Did not choose a seat or even defend my ground

What if all that mattered was to watch
How others made their way, make, fail
What if I did not care to be recognized
Did not care at turning the other cheek
Did not even bother to even say when
you tried to push me down
Thinking that in objectively, moraly
you were right
It made no difference
There is no glory in racing one’s self
You end up losing to yourself

And justifying the worst
of what humanity has to offer