samedi 27 décembre 2008



A masterpiece.
Un chef d'oeuvre
"Woman in the Dunes (砂の女, Suna no onna?, also translated as Woman of the Dunes) is a novel by Kobo Abe and a film based on the novel directed by Hiroshi Teshigahara. The novel was published in 1962, and the film was released in 1964. Kobo Abe also wrote the screenplay for the film version.

The surreal and, at times, absurd nature of Woman in the Dunes has been compared to existentialist works such as Sartre's No Exit and Beckett's Happy Days. Aside from its intriguing premise, this film is notable for the life that Teshigahara brings to the ever shifting sand, which almost becomes a character in its own right.
The film adaptation of Woman in the Dunes won the Special Jury Prize at the 1964 Cannes film festival and, somewhat unusually for an avant-garde film, was nominated for the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar in the same year"

I dream of an erotic moment with you having such magic, such depth, such light...
I dream of our two bodies, magnified by the golden ray of an evening sun...
I dream you and me, isolated in a vast forest, in a house of dream and skin...
I dream of you, ondulating on me, curving in me, circulating round my dizziness...
I dream your eyes, half open on a penumbra of warm room...
I dream of our glance crossing in murmur a river of desire...
I dream, all the time I dream...
Of you.

Nacht und Nebel

A long line of spooky faces
Eyes lost in a nowhere land.
They walk holding a suitcase,
The last wealth they gonna lose
In a moment to stand finally naked.

The first time I saw this movie
At the end I found myself
With tears on my cheeks
Flooding that world’s misery.

A long line of what humanity
Is able to engender.
Atrocity as an outlet
For chaos attraction.
A long line of those who will die.

At the end of the movie
I was crying
But it gave me the strength
to stay vigilant
for this to never happen again.

Did I failed ?

No Title

Note: I received 2 days ago an email from a friend of mine who didn't made a sign since two years.
Now she regrets the time we were best friends...

She was away on a far island, and the only news I got from her was some collective emails where nothing was said.
Then she came back in France and for more than a year, I heard nothing about her. I did called her once, asking to meet, but nothing.
So I said to myself: "let it go ! It was maybe time for stopping this relationship..."
and then, her email, where she try to rebuild this relationship.
I am maybe hard-hearted, but this sounds like she come to me because in need for some help.
I did help her, as she helped me, for the time we were friends. But today, I am disappointed by her behavior.
Ignoring me when time was sweet, and remembering me when time become harder...
So I answered...

Who can say what life is about, what it holds.

Life goes on. Up to us to fill what will go in the beneficial direction.
Silence does not inconvenience me.
Where silence is that there is nothing to say, maybe ...
But I live in the same place, even if much has changed, and well.
I think when you left to your island, it marked the end of a cycle.
Beautiful things have happened to me since, and continues today.
I think myself closer to my inner peace.
And it has influenced the course of events, more than surprising.

I will probably leave France for two months and may be more.
I am leaving for a far country.
Where is waiting for me a Princess. With her, I touch to perfection, she, me, us.
The winds of fate calls me and it is time that I follow.
You see, my friend, each of our tests is that the door which opens onto the next step of our awakening.
Facing closes the door, Understanding opens.
Understand what?
The answer of the hardship is one piece of a great puzzle.
The test itself is nothing. But it is part of a whole.
And I can tell you this: if you understand the place of the test in the chain of enlightenment, while all around you get lighted..
If nothing clears, it is likely that you do not yet capture the essence of this test.
I give you a key: the fifth chakra - The true word - opens doors.

The path to enlightenment is not to fight to get there, but to accept the teaching of suffering.
And to receive such education require our soul to get bared. Of everything.
So everything we are given.

"I fell very down, the confines of my nil. And when I did was nothing, a princess came, took me by hand and offered me everything ..."

So, dear friend, do not worry if life changes your plan, sail and what you deserve you will get.

vendredi 26 décembre 2008

Planet of my Self

There is a hole I’ve been falling in
A tunnel of red and bargained sin
A long corridor running under my skin
To rupture the continuum of my spin.

There is a dark dreamer in the pillow
Of my following nights, ten feet below
My smile that melts in the endless flaw
Of an immense and lonely sorrow.

But even in the hell of the negations
Survive a light as a good reason
A light of thousands equations
Of a blessing salvation.

There is a large and quiet ocean
Bathing my feet as a golden talisman
Carrying for me the message of a shaman
White quietness in the eyes of a man.

mercredi 24 décembre 2008

Where Is The Wild World ?

Anger is by nature designed for waging war with the demons and for struggling with every kind of sinful pleasure. Therefore angels, arousing spiritual pleasure in us and giving us to taste its blessedness, incline us to direct our anger against the demons. But the demons, enticing us towards worldly lusts, make us use anger to fight with men, which is against nature, so that the mind, thus stupefied and darkened, should become a traitor to virtues. - Abba Evagrius the Monk

Glittering women being agglutinated
To their red lipstick toys
Before to make
A first step outside.
And they fascinate
Of their silver eyeliners
For a fake troubling glance
To the next sex partner.

To the men rushing
Their social performances
But finally excelling
In home absence.
And in the solitude
Of a light marriage
They make love prelude
Thinking of their next car's voltage.

Man and woman together ending
In a couple of kids
Gratifying years of diners
At the parent’s house.
And the kids to grow up
At the nipples of the TV screen
Sucking their milk
Of alienating Paris H puppet.

Where is the wild world?
Where is the wild world?

Both dogs and cats
Shaking their tails
For a tin of aliments
Made of brothers and sons.
Cultivated in nice plastic box
The race of the animals
Finally find their use
In the women’s fur coats.

“Where do the milk comes from?”
“From the supermarket!”
Answer in all together
The kids of the school.
And the forest to die
To give a chance to those kids
To still use a car
For a race shopping milk.

Where is the wild world?
Where is the wild world?

And the marketplaces,
Wall Street and CAC40,
Self erected as the only God
Organize collective payers
At the Fox News’ hour,
Between the desert and a belch
Just before Saturday night porn
For masses’ satisfaction.

Finally all emotional surplus
End in a TV’s war
Pictures of green glowing
For a night strike’s award.
And as millions of innocents die
Under GI’s rockets,
Hollywood the saint
Repent at the box presets

Where is the wild world?
Where is the wild world?

In a way or another,
We are all some kind of whore
Crucifying human's dignity
At the castle
Of our own self-satisfaction.
By the way I said “we”
But I really don’t feel concern.

What’s about you ?...

Where is the wild world?
Where is the wild world?
Lost in the path
Of all illusions…

mardi 23 décembre 2008

Sankai Juku "TOBARI"


I want walk the land of banned dreams
To lay my skin at the edge of the day
And throw my flesh at the light’ speed
Across the bitter air of an ancient cave
To lay at the road of a nowhere destination
naked as the first breath of a new born
Waiting here till a wheel fuse the soul-crack.

I want to rock the lane of white emotions
Bordered of phallus-trees erected up
to the sky of an eternal fuck.
Lay my skin to the water of a “in between”
Warmed at the sun of its entrancing trigger
To poor out the source of an ephemeral water
Sleeping for more than too long in the past

I want to fly the green domain of the purple thoughts
Overcome the weight of the weird color from some past youth
That densify so the air of a bedroom morning
That the orchids turn their silky petals
To the darker horizon of nightmare’s territories
To lay my vitality for a rest on a wooden bridge
Where the dancer appears through the thick fog.

I want to stop at this bridge of smoky whispers
And watch for hours of endless volutes
One voluptuous dancer hypnotizing my eyes
Nailing my memory to forget even my heartbeat
To interrupt Ad Vitam Eternam the fall of the seasons
On that magical thread that links the two shores
Of one attractive evanescent air-sculptress.

And finally, at the shadow of Neptune
I will cross to the end the sheltering bridge
At the border line of my grounded mind
Cover that glowing shade from my sweat
Light fully the cosmic align
In the ‘in between” plunge a rain of golden stars
And fuck immensely the galaxies of her eyes

I wanna walk the land of banned hopes
To lay my skin at the edge of the night
And throw my flesh as a T-ray of sun
Across the sweet air of a magic next
To lay at the road of one only destination
naked as the first breath of a new smile
And to nestle in the arm of the land’s Goddess.

lundi 22 décembre 2008

Drops of Love


Une magnifique salope se réveilla un jour avec une idée saugrenue: avoir un bébé bien à elle.
Elle décida alors de se rendre au centre des bébés trouvés.
Un assistant lui présentait les bébés actuellement disponibles lorsque son attention fut attiré par des pleurs.
Se dirigeant vers cet endroit, elle découvrit un bébé en larme.
« Pourquoi donc pleures-tu, petit bébé ? » demanda la femme.
« Je pleure car je n’ai pas de maman… » répondit le petit être.
Attendrie par les larmes du bambin, la femme le choisit pour être son bébé bien à elle.
Arrivés à la maison, le bébé pleurait toujours.
« Pourquoi pleures-tu encore, petit bébé ? N’es-tu pas content de m’avoir comme maman ? »
« Mais tu ne ressembles pas à une maman, alors je me sens toujours orphelin »
Notre toute nouvelle mère décida donc de lui préparer une belle chambre. Elle courut les magasins et revint chargée de beaux jouets et de nombreux vêtements.
Mais le bébé pleurait toujours.
Alors elle le baigna, le langea, lui fit elle*même ses repas de bon légumes, le berça tendrement, lui chanta mille contines… mais rien n’y fit.
Elle changea alors de garde robe, moins clinquante, se maquilla plus légèrement, adoucit son langage et resta sagement à leur maison, mais toujours sans succès.
Le bébé pleurait toutes les larmes de son corps, répétant : « je n’ai pas de maman, je n’ai pas de maman…. »
Dépitée par cet océan de chagrin, la salope prit le bébé dans ses bras et le serra sur sa poitrine. Elle embrassait la petite tête tout en lui parlant tout doucement. Elle sentit même une larme couler sur sa joue.
Et le bébé cessa de pleurer et s’endormit doucement…

Le bébé avait désormais une maman et la salope avait un bébé bien à elle…

Quelques goute d’amour… et tout devient possible.


A splendid slut awoke one day with an absurd idea: to have a baby only for her.
She then decided to go to the found babies’ office.
An assistant introduced to her babies currently available when her attention was drawn by tears.
Moving towards this place, she discovered a crying baby.
Why thus you cry, little baby? ” asked the woman.
I cry because I do not have a mom…” answered the little being.
Tenderized by the tears of the child, the woman chose him to be her baby to her alone.
back to the house, the baby always cried.
Why do you still cry, little baby? Aren't you glad to have me as mom?
But you do not look as a mom, then I feel always orphan
Our very new mother thus decided to prepare a beautiful room to him. She ran the stores and returned charged with beautiful toys and many clothing.
But the baby always cried.
Then she bathed him, changed the baby’s nappy, made him herself meals of good vegetables, rocked him tenderly, sang thousand lullabies to him… but nothing worked there.
She changed her clothes’ style, less flashy, used more slightly make up, softens her language and remained wisely at their house, but always without success.
The baby cried all the tears of his body, always saying: “I do not have a mom, I do not have a mom…. ”
Greatly frustrated by this ocean of sorrow, the slut woman took the baby in her arms and tightened it on her chest. She embraced the small head gently while speaking softly. She felt even a tear to run on her cheek.
And the baby ceased crying and fell asleep gently…

The baby have had there a mom and the slut had become a mother…

With some drops of love… everything’s possible.

The Realm Of The Abyss


What sadly moved me the most, went to be the day I understood, every one of us contain a Golden Part. But when looking to our now world, I notice that nothing drives us, to get conscious of that. Nor to get a single start, of sufferance’s meaning.
And humanity to spill, in a lake of complains, creating the Evil, to explain the misfortune they lay in. So being separated, the Good and the Bad becomes antagonist forces that battle the human heart.
Then let’s look at what pornography is.
Is two bodies having sexual relations, whatever the practice, mean pornography? Where do stand the limit between the spice and the perversion? Isn’t it in the way we live it? Make it? Dream it? So pornography does exist only in eyes of a porn consumer… Pornography is just a sample of the emotional drift of men’s behaviors.
But many others can reveal the same.
Putting forward an hypothesis: Good is the safe ground, and Bad the abyss. By knowing well were stand the Evil, we know the limit between both. But Good and Bad are two parts of one life. So avoiding the Abyss shall be as to cut life by two. And what to do with an Abyss?
To fall in or fly above.
And to learn how to fly above, we must know what the Abyss is made of, so fall in…

… and come back.

When DarShi Cries

From the crushed dusts of ancient defences,
Where old times have seen glories of hope
Falling in the vanity’s pyres
For a pocketful of perverted games,
I have started rains of rages,
Dropping from angry heavens,
To wash by floods of ages
The increasing rustles

From men’s invocating chants
Of falsified faith to a God
That never have existed,
Elsewhere than in human’s pride,
I have started a ceremonial
Earth trembling to collapse
At the ground of humbleness
The faked vision of Gold.

From all rotted behaviors
Collected at the mankind’s feet,
The humanity’s tree
Wearing henceforth solely
Pornoïd brown leathes,
I have started one world aridity
In the erratic emotions of a crowd
In the coward chickens’ yard.

From all qualities inherited,
Men have built a city of lewdness,
Where males erect
As females are asked to suck,
So I started a great swindle,
To confuse senses
in a baroque whorehouse
Where lust the only glow.

I am DharShi
God of the deliverance
Keeper of the white level
And I failed to protect
Paradise from barbarians
So I started a great screaming
From my own throat raised
And melted an ocean of tears

dimanche 21 décembre 2008


once I was a porno
I wore all degusts
Humanity can hold.
With my rotted flesh
I did consumed
All body dancers
In my broken arms
I did carried
All soul breakers.
In this porno life
Of self-disasters
I wore all insanity
Life could have hold to me.
With my rotted thoughts
I did consume
My body dance
I did became
My own soul breaker.

"Am I a soft man, in the vapors of one soul that looks for her rest? Devils and Angels have battled in my chest for so many times that I sometimes feel as nothing resting…
Am I a fragile man, in the perfume of his child’s heartbeat that wonder for no more war but to drown in a bath of milk? Am I me, as I dream to be, a pure angel that finally overcame the duality of a human purgatory? Am I laying down, on a mellow carpet, facing a wooden fire that warm my watered bones ? Am I ?"

Once I’ve been a flame,
green of a soft glow.
I shown at night time
The lakes’ surface
And played with
My own reflection.
I was stargazer
Ant the puppets’ keeper.
Of my transparent hands
I caressed
The wounded cheeks
With the ointment
Of my own scars.
I hoped they could cure
Those broken soul
Those heartbroken.

"Am I a light, this green one floating above the dark water? Am I gentle enough so each of my touch can heal without being known doing so? Have my face the warm smile I refused for long that tells “I am ,early in peace” ? Does my hands draw angels’ breathes above the tree of one beloved’s leaf? Am I the soft dream of someone else that never hurt but warm? Am I pure enough to cancel forever and definitely the mean rustle of human’s temptations?"

Once I was a porno
And a green flame…


In the large corridor
I hear vociferating voices.
Their decadent rules
Looking at me,
They start to sing…

“you may change !
Coz you’re not like us
You must change !
Coz you’re too dangerous
You gonna change !
To be one of us…”

Nooooooooooooo !
I don’t want to bend
To your sacrificial line
Be one of you a slave
Is not my plan.
As your ephemeral style
Smell rotted and the rain
That falls from the tears
Of your lonely kids
Rust forever
The iron of your heart.
I start to sing

“No I won’t change!
Coz my difference is me
No I can’t change!
Coz I could die of it
I will not change !
But I will surely be”

From pain to pain,
From tears to tears,
I built a kingdom,
From every wound
I rooted out each
Drops of dream,
A spiritual silver
That turns
to vaporous gold
as one sun
came to shine on me.
And that realm will never surrender.
So a voice starts to sing

“Don’t change !
Just be different
Don’t change
But increase your talent
Don’t change
But leave useless torments”

It is 4:39 AM
Sitting outside
I looks to the sky.
The stars according to me
I don’t need other agreement.