vendredi 19 juin 2009


There was a time a little boy
Who always felt being
A stranger to what was surrounding him.
All around, people spoke
About things he did not paid attention on.
Only in his dreams, was the real life..

He became an artist.
So he could give birth
To the fantasy of his imagination.

And he grew up,
Half in this world,
And half in his head.
But most of the time
The first half was
Not really active...

He became a
Social Misfit Artist.
A real anarchist.
No God, nor master.
He was his own God
And his own master.

And he got older.
His perception
Into the things became clearer,
His passionate temper
Became more subtle,
More patient.

He became an
Artist secretly wise.
Living apart most of the time.
Preferring the beach at night,
Eating with no rules,
Breathing freely.

And he felt inside
A meaning arising.
A kind of revelation.
Something that did gave to his life
The dimension of his kid’s dreams.
Nothing imperious.
More bent into the light.

He became a
Peaceful artist.
Living and watching life.
Full of compassion,
But also some mockeries
For the troops of all of those
Who were laughing at him

Life have the dimension
Of the dream we make on it...

he became a
"Goutte d'eau"
An artist...

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