THE ORGY ROOM OF BLABLA

Millions de voix silencieuses
Cachées par des millions de pixels
En avatars menteurs et pseudonymes racoleurs
Qui décorent la morne réalité.
« Je parle, donc j’existe… »
Et les blablas de se répandre
Sur le sol virtuel de rêves mourants
Pour renaître en fantasmes collectifs.
Millions de mots déversés dans le rien,
Longue procession de bits
D’un continent à un autre
Qui s’échangent faute de trouver mieux
Dans un monde où la parole est humiliée
A chaque seconde du temps qui s’échappe.
« Je chatte, donc j’existe… »
Et les blablas de se répandre
Sur les vitres de nos sourires virtuels
En smileys scintillant dans les fenêtres
De nos rêves virtuels.
Millions de Sms pour dire « je t’aime »
De loin, très loin.
« Tu es trop loin, mon amour »
Et nos portables de sonner la charge
Des envois multiples en convention collective.
« Bonne année à tous ! »
« Bon, çà, c’est fait… Qui a son anniversaire bientôt ? »
Et j’achète des E-cards comme avant
On achetait des fleurs pour dire
« Je vous aime, mes amis… »
« J’achète, donc j’existe… »
Et les blablas de se répandre
En vœux virtuels qui s’effaceront
D’eux-mêmes dans dix jours.

Elle était seule, elle cherchait sa vie.
Alors elle s’est connectée au réseau
Des chat-room.
Mais de vicieux en futiles
Elle n’a trouvé que le malaise collectif.
Personne pour la faire rêver,
Tous voulaient la sodomiser…
Alors elle a pris des pilules virtuelles
Et s’est suicidée pour de vrai…







Million silent voices
Hidden by million pixels
In lying avatars and tout pseudonyms
Who decorate dull reality.
“I speak, therefore I exist…”
And blahs to spread itself
On the virtual ground of dying dreams
To reappear in collective phantasms.
Million words poured in nothing,
Long procession of bits
From a continent to another
Who exchange fault of better finding
In a world where the word is humiliated
At each second of the time which escapes.
“I chat, therefore I exist…”
And blahs to spread itself
On the panes of our virtual smiles
In scintillating smileys on the windows
Of our virtual dreams.
Million Sms to say “I love you”
By far, very far.
“You are too far, my love”
And our cells to sound the load
Crosspostings in collective agreement.
“Happy new year to you all ! ”
“Good, that, it is done… Who has his birthday soon? ”
And I buy of E-cards like before
One bought flowers to say
“I love you, my friends…”
“I buy, therefore I exist…”
And blahs to spread itself
In virtual wishes which will erase
Themselves in ten days.

She was alone, she sought her life.
Then she connected to the network
Chat-room.
But from vicious to futile
she found only the collective disgust.
Nobody to make her to dream,
All wanted her to sodomize …
Then she took virtual pills
And committed suicide for real…





NOTE: Internet et les chats sont un formidable outil de communication, pour peu que l'on communique vraiment...

NOTE: internet and chats are a tremendous tool of communication, although we really communicate...

A MAN AND A BIRD DISCUSSING...

Un jour, un homme était assis dans un endroit désertique.
Un long silence emplissait son esprit… lorsqu’il perçu une mélodie lointaine.
Un chant d’oiseau comme il n’en n’avait jamais entendu jusqu’à maintenant.
Tournant la tête dans cette direction, il aperçut un étincelant volatil se dirigeant vers lui.



Couleur de soleil et d’azur, l’oiseau se posa en face de lui.
L’homme alors lui dit ;
« Bel oiseau, Pourquoi siffles-tu ainsi, à en illuminer le silence de ce chant d’une rare beauté ? »
A sa grande surprise, l’oiseau répondit
« Je siffle pour célébrer le vent.
Mais je siffle aussi pour accueillir le soir,
le soleil au matin.
Je siffle quand il pleut et pour le ciel bleu.
Je siffle ma joie et je siffle mes peines.
Je siffle du matin au, soir
Chaque chose que je vois,
Chaque chose qui arrive.
Car vois-tu,
Ainsi chaque chose qui vient à moi
Me traverse et ressort par mon chant.
Et toi, homme solitaire,
Ne chantes-tu jamais ?
Que fais-tu de tes émotions ? »

Un peu décontenancé, l’homme répondit :
« je ris lorsque je suis joyeux
Pleure quand je suis triste,
Je cris quand la colère me tient
Et sourit lorsque la vie est douce.
Ainsi moi aussi, j’exprime mes émotions, non ? »

« Tu exprimes tes émotions, oui,
Mais tu ne transformes en rien
L’équilibre du monde !
La colère vient à toi
Et est toujours colère
lorsqu’elle te quitte.
La joie vient à toi
Et est toujours la même joie
Lorsque que tu la redonnes
Au monde.
Alors je te pose cette question :
A quoi sers-tu ? »

L’homme ne comprenait pas.

« Lorsqu’une émotion te traverse,
Et que tu ne transformes pas
En une autre chose
Cela ne te nourri pas.
Chaque émotion est l’étincelle
De la rencontre entre toi
Et une situation.
Cette énergie doit être utilisée,
Transformée,
Et relancée dans l’univers.
Par sa transformation, tu redonnes
De la vigueur à cette énergie.
Ainsi, chaque émotion transformée,
C’est l’énergie universelle
Qui se régénère. »


« Oiseau de feu, tes paroles
Ont la sagesse du temps
Et la gloire de l’enseignement.
Qui es-tu ? »

« Je suis Vishuddha,
Le cinquième Chakra.
Je suis la parole qui transforme,
Du noir, je fais du blanc,
Du blanc, je fais de la lumière.
Et je te le dis.
Apprends à connaitre
Tes émotions.
Des plus noirs aux plus heureuses.
Chacune à un enseignement à te donner.
Une fois l’enseignement acquis ,
Redonne ton émotion au monde,
Et si possible transformée.
En bien ou en mal,
Là est ta décision. »

En disant cela, l’oiseau s’envola et se rapprocha de l’homme.
Et brusquement entra dans son œil.
L’homme ne sentit aucune douleur.
Mais lorsqu’il se leva pour rentrer chez lui ,
Il chantait…


















One day, a man had sat in a desert place.
A long silence filled up his spirit… when he perceived a remote melody.
A song of bird as he had never heard until now.
having a look in that direction, he saw one glittering volatile moving towards him.



Color of sun and azure, the bird settled in front of him.
The man then said to him;
“Beautiful bird, why are you whistling so, to illuminate the silence with this song of a rare beauty? ”

To his great surprise, the bird answered
“I whistle to celebrate the wind.
But I also whistle to welcome the evening,
the sun in the morning.
I whistle when it rains and for the blue sky.
I whistle my joy and I whistle my sorrows.
I whistle from the morning till dawn,
Each thing that I see,
Each thing which arrives.
Because you know,
So each thing which comes to me
Cross me and arises by my song.
And you, solitary man,
Do you never sing?
What do you make of your emotions? ”

A bit discountenanced, the man answered:
“I laugh when I am merry
Cry when I am sad,
I shout when anger holds me
And smiles when life is soft.
So, I do express my emotions too, isn’t it? ”

“You express your emotions, yes,
But you do not transform of anything
The balance of the world!
Anger comes to you
And is always anger
when it leaves you.
The joy comes to you
And is always the same joy
When you give it back
To the world.
Then I ask you this question:
what for are you useful ”

The man did not understood.

“When an emotion crosses you,
Not transforming it
In another thing
Nourished you not.
Each emotion is the spark of
The meeting between you
And a situation.
This energy must be used,
Transform,
And thrown again in the universe.
By its transformation, you give again
Strength with this energy.
Thus, each transformed emotion,
It is universal energy
Which get regenerates. ”


“Bird of fire, your words
Have the wisdom of time
And the glory of teaching.
Who are you? ”

“I am Vishuddha,
Fifth Chakra.
I am the word which transforms,
Black, I make white,
White, I make light.
And let me tell you this.
Learn to know
Your emotions.
Blacker with happiest.
Each one have a teaching for you.
Once acquired the lesson,
Give back your emotion to the world,
And transformed if possible.
In good or evil,
There is your decision. ”

By saying that, the bird flew away and approached the man.
And abruptly entered his eye.
The man did not felt any pain.
But when he went back home,
He was singing…

THE "LAS VEGAS' NIGHTMARE" SYNDROME

… 4… 3… 2…1… 0… !
Tout autour du monde, des voix se sont élevées dans des “bonne année à tous” à déchirer mon Cœur de leurs sincérités… Ces voix résonnent comme étincelles de prières fantomatique à la couleur d’un jaune pisseux. Mascarades cascadant de marche en marche sur l’escalier de toutes les hypocrisies que seuls quelques moines trappistes ne verront pas. Impossible d’échapper au cauchemar de Las Vegas. J’enfouis ma tête sous des tonnes d’oreillers mais impossible ! Les murs tremblent de la party du voisin. Sourires allumés à la vodka-champagne et les yeux qui scintillent de l’ivresse des lampadaires. Saint Sylvestre, nuit de la lumière-néon, nuit où le pire des vœux est formulé en chœur par six milliards de cerveaux. « Bonne année à tous » et demain ressemblera aux sols de vos fêtes : noirci de souhaits piétinés et de vomis de bonnes résolutions. L’enfer n’est t-il pas pavé de bonnes intentions ? Courage ! Frères ! Il vous reste 364 jours pour voir si c’est vraiment une bonne année. Convention obscène de la réjouissance obligatoire sur laquelle je pisse. Je fêterai 2009 365 jours cette année, sauf un : ce soir. Ce soir, puisque plus personne ne les porte, j’ai sur les épaules les résidus d’une humanité qui d’avance sait que de toute manière, cette nouvelle année sera comme la précédente, pourrie, triste, froide et sanglante. Ce soir, comment échapper au regard perdu de ces enfants des rues, de ces sans-abris que seul le froid fait voir des lueurs… comment, comment, comment ? Une idée ?

… 4… 3… 2… 1… 0…
Une nouvelle année commence… La feront nous vraiment bonne ? Pour TOUT le monde ?
Où est-ce encore un « Las Vegas’nightmare » de plus…




... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... 0 ...!
Around the world, voices were raised in "Happy New Year to all” to tear my Heart of their sincerity ... These voices sound like ghostly sparks prayers to the color of a wishy-washy yellow. Masquerades cascading from step to step on the stairs of all hypocrisies that some few trappist monks will not see. No way to escape the Las Vegas’ nightmare. I bury my head under tons of pillows but impossible! The walls are shaking from the party's neighbor. Smiles lit from the vodka-champagne and sparkling eyes of the drunkenness streetlights. Eve, the night-light neon night when the worst of wishes is expressed all together by six billion brains. "Happy New Year to all!” and tomorrow will look as the party’s floor: blackened wishes trampled and vomited good resolutions. Isn't the hell paved by good intentions? Courage! Brothers! You have 364 days to see if it is really a good year. Obscene convention of a prescribed celebration that I pee. I will celebrate 2009 every 365 days this year, except one: tonight. This evening, since nobody carries them anymore, I have on the shoulders the residues of one humanity which in advance knows that anyway, this New Year will be like the last one, rotted, sad, cold and bloody.
Tonight, how to escape to the children’s glance, lost of the streets, these homeless only who see some glow only because of the cold…cold light ... how, how, how? An idea?

... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... 0 ...
A new year begins ...Will we really make it good? For everybody?
Or will it be, once again, one more “Las Vegas’ nightmare” ?

xxx

The roted satisfactions.

Fragments of my head have reached the sky of red torments.
Elongated in long flaming threads of green brain texture,
Synapsis of pounded connectivity
I hear the screaming of iron twisting on roosted bases.
When from heaven fall the angels of electronic metal
The ground echoes from the deflagrations
Linking up to world global government’s lines
I collapse on this true reality of sacrificed citizens,
Planed dead at the profit of some grasping blokes.

Fragment of peace blown out by the lock of our jails
We run in circle around the temples of lust
Selling brain condoms, and come back home
Pockets full of insanities hard covered
As books of dead religions.
I hear the screech of the expensive cars
Rushing the night from club to club,
Murdering at the same time some homeless
Too cold to jumps out the pavement they got for bed.

Fragments of my eternity float in spasms
On the ocean of alcoholic’s vomits,
Stopping for a while their laughing
For some meth sniffs gracefully offered,
Official dealers of human’s agonies
Allocate greetings and blame, according
If everybody walks in line or not.
And I hear the groan of feudal slaves
Walking on the knee to beg to stay
Half dead but still in the rules.

Fragments of my mind,
Drifting away
To the coast of
A voluntary isolation
Check the underneath wreck
Of purple chickens
Calling themselves
The glorious
And sanctified
Human race.

Fuck new year's day.

XXX

Dogs of War in the Plains

Les chiens de guerre crachent sur nos jours
Leur obscure vision d’une vie acide.
De leurs canons et leurs fusils
Répandent leur déjections sur nos douceurs
Et nos rêves.
Je ne rêve plus.
J’ai trop peur qu’ils entrent en moi
Et sème leur terreur
dans le creux de mes espoirs.

The dogs of war spit over our days
Their obscure vision of an acid life.
Their guns and their rifles
Spread their dejections on our softness
And our dreams.
I do not dream any more.
I am too afraid they can enter me
And their terror sows
in the hollow of my hopes.




Les chiens de guerres
Envahissent mes plaines, mon sang,
Pour y violer la lumière.
Ces fous contrôlent mon monde
Sans un murmure de tristesse,
Renversent les cendres
De milliers de prières.
Je ne respire plus.
De peur d’inhaler leur puanteur contagieuse.


Dogs of wars
My plains, my blood invade,
To violate the light there.
These fools control my world
Without a murmur of sadness,
Overthrow Ashes
Thousands of prayers.
I do not breathe any more.
In fear of inhaling their contagious stink.



Les chiens de guerres ont laissé à terre
Mes mères, mes sœurs, sanglantes de hontes,
Eteintes de stupeur.
Et mes pères et frères de rejoindre leur rang
Pour à leur tour, éteindre d’autres mères,
D’autres sœurs.
Je n’enfante plus,
De peur de faire le mal
Par l’arrogance du mâle.

The dogs of wars left with ground
My mothers, my sisters, bloody of shames,
Switched off of stupor.
And my fathers and brothers to join their row
For in their turn, to extinguish other mothers,
other sisters.
I do not give birth any more,
In fear of making the evil
By the arrogance of the male.



Les chiens de guerre me font voir
Au fond de leurs yeux glauques
Les cauchemars millénaires de leur impuissance.
Ils sèment la mort sur mon lit d’amour
Ils crachent du feu faute de cracher du sperme.
Leur phallus d’acier baisant l’horizon.
Je ne jouie plus,
De peur de leur ressembler
dans leurs obscènes orgasmes.

The dogs of war make me see
At the bottom of their shabby eyes
Thousand-year-old nightmares of their impotence.
They sow death on my bed of love
They spit of fire for lack of spitting their sperm
Their steel phallus fucking the horizon.
I come no more,
In fear of resembling to them
in their lewd orgasms.





Les chiens de guerre ont envahit ma vie.
Pour ne pas être des leurs, je me suis détesté.
Ils ont saigné mon cœur de me savoir un homme.
Et je n’ai plus souri
Et je n’ai plus aimé
Et je n’ai plus voulu.

Alors une femme m’a conquis
Une mère, une sœur, une épouse.
Et j’ai à nouveau aimé.

The dogs of war have invaded my life.
Not to be theirs, I hated myself.
They bled my heart to know me a man.
And I did not smiled anymore
And I did not loved any more
And I did not wanted any more.

Then a woman conquered me
A mother, a sister, a wife.
And I loved again.


Note: Today is the last day of year 2008. nearly everywhere in the the world, people gonna celebrate the new year's day.
"Happy new year" everyone gonna sing.
Wish you can give at least five minutes of your new year to come to do something for those who gonna sing tonight "One more new year of blood"

Body Electric

Mon corps électrique
Sommeille en moi.
Je le rêve, la nuit
Et le sens vibrer le jour.

My electric body
Slumbers in me.
Dream of it at night
And feel it vibrating during the day.




Mon corps électrique
S’est réveille en moi.
Il vibre et tourbillonne
Autour de mes bras tendus.
Il étend ses faisceaux
Par delà les murs et le océans
Navigue s’en cesse
Sur les flots de l’universel.


My electric body awaked in me.
It vibrates and swirls
Around my tense arms.
It spreads its beams
hereafter walls and oceans
Navigates on the streams of the universal.




Mon corps électrique
A rejoint l’univers.
Il le traverse
A la vitesse de la lumière.
Il se mêle aux vents solaires
Et aux pluies d’électrons.
Atteignant la fusion
Mon corps électrique sait…


My electric body
Joined the universe.
It crosses it
A the speed of light.
It gets involved in the solar winds
And in the rains of electrons.
Reaching the fusion
My electric body knows …

Chakra est un mot Sanscrit qui signifie la roue ou le disque et se réfère aux sept centres d'énergie majeurs dans le corps (l'organisme). Ces sept centres sont placés le long de l'épine dorsale et lorsque sain, permettent un flux équilibré d'énergie entre les aspects physiques, mentaux, émotionnels et spirituels de notre être. Garder nos chakras fonctionnant correctement est extrêmement important pour notre santé, comme les ruptures dans le flux d'énergie peuvent mener à la maladie et la dépression.


Chakra is a Sanskrit word that means wheel or disk and refers to the seven major energy centers in the body. These seven centers are positioned along the spine and when healthy, allow a balanced flow of energy between the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual aspects of our being. Keeping the chakras properly functioning is vitally important
to our health, as disruptions in the energy flow can lead to illness and depression.

KAMA SUTRA - a tale of love

Set in 16th century India, the movie depicts the story of two girls, Maya and Tara, who were raised together even though they come from different social classes. Tara (Sarita Choudhury) is an upper-caste princess while Maya (Indira Varma) is her beautiful servant. The two girls are best of friends and have been treated the same, until they get old enough for marriage. At this point Tara is treated as a future princess being readied to marry Prince Raj Singh (Naveen Andrews) but Maya is forced into the role of her servant, which culminates into an argument where Tara reminds Maya of her lowly position in life. Being resentful of the inferiority she is made to feel, Maya exacts her revenge by sleeping with Prince Raj on the wedding night. Prince Raj himself is delighted with the opportunity since he is an opium smoking playboy who loves sex, drinks, and nearly naked gladiator type fights. When Maya's actions are discovered by Tara's brother, he develops an intense amount of lust for her. When she refuses him, he brands her as a whore, and she is banished from her house.

Maya is forced to wander around on her own. She eventually meets many free-spirited people, including an older sensuous woman named Rasa Devi (Rekha) who is a teacher of the Kama Sutra, the ancient art of seduction that takes into account dancing, singing, costumes, as well as the art of making love. While a student there, Maya also meets a young stone sculptor named Jai Kumar (Ramon Tikaram) and the two begin a romantic relationship until one day Raj, now the king, shows up wanting to commission some statues for his pleasure. He immediately recognizes that some of the statues look just like the only woman he now desires, the outcast Maya, setting up a gladiator type contest between the two men. What culminates is an intensely homoerotic 'friendly' competition in which the two, nearly naked, grapple and dance in a male-bonding wrestling match without the intention of hurting each other. Even so, Kumar wisely allows King Raj to beat him and in doing so he receives many favors and gold, but he loses the right to see Maya. On top of that, King Raj is descending deeper into debauchery and opium delirium with no interest or inclination of bedding his own Queen, even for the sake of procreation. However, the blame for the lack of an heir is not placed on the King. Instead, it is Queen Tara who is scorned for not being able to seduce her own husband.

Maya finally realizes that she must make difficult choices as she finds herself in the position to either accept her role as concubine to King Raj or to help the people she loves who are all headed down towards their own paths of destruction, all because of her presence in their lives.

Source: Wikipedia

I took a step outside
The land was flat and covered
By a strange white glow.
From far, I saw a yellow veil
Floating in the brushing wind.


I approached.
And met a young woman
Of smooth gilded clothes



Daughter of heaven and earth
She was there, holding a planet,
A blue one with clouds around.

“Dear yellow nymph, is that a real planet,
That in your hands floats softly?”

“Dear odd, it is a real planet I am holding yet.
And I have in charge to keep the memories
Of the living there. But all those memories are quite sad…”

She had these strange face expression
Of someone wondering a dream but not knowing which.

“Dear veiled lady, is that the reason
Your smile seems to be gone?”

“Dear questioner, the last time I have smiled,
There was only two livings on this planet,
And their thoughts were crystal clear to my ear.
But today they did grow in number to a multitude.
Their memories sound so weird and perturbed,
That I feel with the despair of being able
To engender there the slightest sun.”



Wondering how I could dry the fairy’s tears,
I plunged a hand in the bag on my side
And pulled out a pocket of old fashion papers.



“Dear enigmatic, with a pen and those old paper,
Why don’t you write down such memories
In a whole story of strange and unusual words.
Linking so together each plot to the bank of your river…?”

She turned on me her glance of clear water,
And I saw a flame in the hollow of those eyes…

“Dear wonderer, I take your advice for good wisdom
And I will write this book of thousand and one whispers.
The tales of those human’s flaws turned into a flaming cathedral.
And in this temple of all perversions and straying
I will light a dream for all memories the golden one finding”


And she sat and wrote.
One page a day and so after a thousand days and one,
There was a thousand pages and one
And she called her book “Aphorism of the desire”
Where each page was described one fail and one shelter.
The ending word being written down,
She turned her head once again to me.






“Dear patient man, haven’t we met before?”

“Dear sublime, we did met a thousand time and one…”

Pain Of The Burning Land

The horizon of black being at the death’s door
Scratchs my pain on the Gaza’s pavements…
Today I cry for the brothers killing their brothers.
No one is innocent but no one deserve to die
Under a rain of anger that blow off
My hopeful dreams of a wise humanity.
Today I cry on children that look out the window
Seeing, screaming, for a mother that flows
From the blood of a shamed expectation,
To dream of a peacefulness freedom,
A license to breath under a blue sky

Today I cry coz my earth is bleeding
Of million wonderful scarified,
A street to wear the footsteps
Of the sacrificed anonymous, guilty
To be not living on the good bank
Of this river of hate
That floods human history.

Today I cry on the body of a teenage school girl
Tackled at the dark fate
Of misery’s promises…