Recuperation (a mindset Profits-oriented)

This woman uses her dead child to manipulate people's opinions on a peculiar subject, to me the death of the boy is only her fault, she failed to educate him, she failed to know what was good for him, she never questioned, she never searched for knowledge, as an adult she should have known the greediness of the big corporations, now because of a context her child is a rotten corpse and she took right in her face her lack of caring, there was more than one cause, and she needs a culprit, but she never learnt, she is still a fat american scold, and now the most shameful of all she uses her baby's death to achieve her goals, which is mainly : get money, she feeds herself with pity, because it's so "normal" to be moved and attentive in front of a person who lost a child; Well, i can't stand the hypocrites dissing the system but acting the same, please "miss Common Morals" sees me as a heartless bastard, i say it for you ignorants, nobody can corrupt me, nobody can use me, even with a dead child.

Somebody

Somebody will offer his arms, somebody less complicated, the comfort without the doubts, universally waited, out of range is the foresee illumination, the vision of the abandonment once coils in this tender cocoon, nothing change except the world turning at the speed pace of security, don't blame this human craving, wish them the best luck, because you're unable to give what is waited and the arrow of your forgiveness throws by those you feel for will pierce the gold of all you keep closed as you wanted, don't blame the world, blame yourself or simply let go of all the wild unrealistic expectations, all covered, you can't give, fine, someone will do it for you, release your mind, at least allow those you love to be free and happy, these arms are useless.
My mind talks to me like that, if you want to know the commonly unknown for you just forget who you are, what you are now can't satisfy, this body is too sharp and this brain too high, if you want to be somebody drop the leash.
I say shut up incoherent thing, i'll never set loose the one and the beliefs, i'll be damned, i'll walk on this path of thorns forever.

heart-shaped Box

I have no family, we're all a bunch of mutes, sewing locks around our hearts, playing the nihilists, nothing is said, the infamous wounds are pasted with the mire of false indifference and it taints us, why the heredity has engraved the taste for suffering in our cursed lineage, we're not living with others, we are crouched and afraid in a corner of our own made jail, i want to break free even if i have to let everybody down, even if i have to tear apart my own cuffed hands, i dream about infinite space, a canvas for me to scatter all the colors i really want to spill, what do i have to lose on the road, i think of my weighty heart like a pretty chiseled chest full of stinky ominous desires, should i have to dismember me to start anew, i want to be able to cry in my mother's arms, feel the intensity of one embrace without doubts, not belong, i want to be light, i want to float freely, i want to be huged and reassured.

I want to escape this heart-shaped box.

Trance

Never dance, people look stupid when they dance, they never do it for fun, only by principle or celebration, for them dancing is a show, they display a good mood to draw the nymphs and Appollons, there is no sense to me to rejoice massively, do i dismiss dance because i can't... yeah i can't! I can't pretend and mix in the only purpose to hope for a lascivious hip move, the eyes soaked in intoxicating substances or mere alcohol, dancing is so vain i'd rather hit my brow on the floor, the way they do it with their laughing gulfs right to the ceiling, rubbing each others like a cat on his master's leg, people dance to forget, to get some relief in their miserable lifes, to find momentary peace in the worst devotions, they wriggle like a heap of snakes while on my side i only aspire to madness, focusing all my nerves on one beam reaching high, twirling around like a squid underwater, a whirlgig at the edge of a table, when i dance no Matter exists, it's a wide nebula and i'm part of it all, i'm hatefull of their aspirations, they turn an ability so pure to an orgiastic race, never dance like they dance but i'll keep to grow my entity insane and in my dance i'll find sleep.

(i must stop to write in this state, if only i could describe the beauty of the details around)

Self Salvation

I don't want to be human anymore, i'm not like them, i can't feel used any longer, i can't thrive in the ditches they trace, i have enough of walking in the mud, growing my black wings to warn them, always explaining what's in their own heads, thinking for two, for three, and suffer their numb glances, all the sick reasoning leading them on their joyful tracks, i'm the freak they point their finger at while i'm roaming in the beautiful wild and they are on a tour guided by their egoistical appetite, showing their polished teeth like a business card, all of you fearing the burst of an incandescent mind, i don't need not one of you, i'm changing state, here is my elevation, i give myself the right to be out, free of your vicious tortures, i don't confront you anymore, i let you blindly tumble over the cliff, enjoying your fall, breaking one by one your fingers fatten up with playful medicine, tonight i vent all the hate i breathed, i give it back, i'm not a part of your circus anymore, after this last onslaught i'm different, i won't seek your regards, you end your existences and not the contrary, i chose to kill you in my attitudes than to kill me, your stingy hands already hollowed me of my humanity because you made humanity, all of you, the masses, the majority, you chose a sight for these insatiable grasshopers to follow, well i can't be part of your insensitive scheme, i'll choose for myself, i deny you, i let you bang your thick skulls, stabbing each others cheerfully, i won't regret you, i'll find my needs in the spiritual of my own paradigm, i will create my happiness.

(you write about being whole with someone and i describe my withdrawal of humanity and the search for the inner bliss, i thought it was funny to mention this opposition, those are themes of The Fountain)

Plain logic

What better proof there's something wrong with me that nobody ever wanted to be close to me. That's logical to me.

I can't reason this feeling

Do you know this emotion, after you learned the thinking of one individual, you begin to be frustrated by your daily social relations, you feel something is missing, you want more and the people in front of you don't see it, they clearly walk a different way toward a different horizon. And you think of that one person, that one whose you feel secure and you can tell everything, even your darkest wounds, the one you don't want to hide none of your supposed flaws because underlying you hope she'll accept you all, with all you are, the good, the bad, the manners, the moves, the thoughts, the conditioning, the functioning, the habits, the losses, and so on, everything, you want to be transparent because faking, hiding one's truth under the norms of this world is so much tiring and it drains you, and slowly you imagine to be able to close your eyes and letting you slip in trust, you begin to believe that this one you can trust entirely and all you have to do is being yourself, the thoughts unveilled are accepted and you see a common path to go along, a reasoning shared, then a same way to feel; So obviously if you are frustrated with people in your surroundings, your thoughts are more and more directed towards the one you feel good with and you begin to think, what is she doing, what do i miss, here i'm misunderstood but i know there is that person out there who seems to feel the way i feel; Unfortunately, for any reasons, you can't be in the vicinity of this one cherished person, so naturally you feel stuck and miss all the time, there's no other, only this one, you can't reason, you can't tell why but your body reacts and grows symptoms, like stomach ache or excessive thinking about the one, it's a complete take over, you can't withdraw, you're addicted, you want more and all around is insipid; At some moment if you're able to cross the path of such a person you feel shaky and ready to burst in tears, you only want to tell how much you love her because the moment is ephemeral and you can't think about something else; Missing is a suffering to me, i know i'm complex and my emotions are like a roller coaster, i know i can be harsh or heartless, but when you meet such a person you're convinced that your feelings are true and the purest of all mankind, and regularly i feel i'm withering just because i can't know where you are and i miss you as my ideal.

Blame me for what i am, A misfit, A twisted thinker!

"Your honesty is unpleasant!", i read the bright red letters, almost jumping at my face; This followed her call, she put me in a situation in which i felt nothing, no emotions, no shivering, no thoughts to share, no opinions required : "Hello! I call to tell you that we came back home quickly and safe!", does someone know how to reply to this sort of plain assertion, can this be pondered, or am i completely misfitted for a majority of social situations, like the intro phrase : "Hello! The weather is nice today!", or i recall my aunt saying when i was a kid : "Oh! You grow up so quickly, you're so tall now!", or when someone says : "My leg hurts today" or my hand, or my back, or my feet,... i'm not a fucking chiropractor and they know it!, what do they want from me, if it's some kind of code, i don't get it at all, if they want me to say or do something, why don't they ask directly the question, and finally when i reply that their phrase as no sense to me, that i don't care that the traffic was fluid because it had no incidence on my life because i was already home, and i understand that she could be happy because her trip back went perfectly ok but for my part i feel nothing, and i see clearly for myself that the weather is nice, no need to comment such a thing, well! in such a lame way, at least if they said how the weather makes them feel, but no they are like robot using a program, a code, to say it again... and i'm not a FUCKING chiropractor, jeez! So, Ok! My honnesty is unpleasant, and i'm an egocentrical prick, and i'm labelled as heartless sometimes, well i'm sorry all of you actors on this great stage that is society life but i can't lie with what i feel, i only know how to function with sincerity, sharing the personal beliefs, the rest lets me perplexed!

the sky illusion

No, no! Don't go on me now, i battled years to obliterate my decline in the sky, i stabbed my heart, accurately pulled in the square blade between my ribs, fumble, fumble, spin, spin, spill the gruel through that hole, break the egg, born again, harden your opinions, this way later any metals will fold on the skin induration; I saw the palpitating stars amongst the nauseous vapors, i reached my arms like a drowned, just to grab silvery locks and a print on the silky moon, i stayed locked in slander eyelashes, i wept on my lonely days, begging them to keep me trapped, i mourned, i mourned, my cheeks peeled, folding on my knees, no one would pray to quit this illusion, i wanted warmth bathing in my own blood, grow stronger, recluse, use and leave, hammer the egg; Hey you! hit me, hit me now, see i feel nothing except the blows of my own fists... help... now that i am my own master, why am i hiting so heavily, soon i'll fall, spreaded on the rocky soil, do the blows will still rush at me, i murmur to myself "pardon me... pardon me to have loved you so much".

burning with passion

not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; not again; Not again...

Spread the love (not the hate)

If i despise them it's because i despise myself, i put the bad thougths i have against myself in their eyes; I think this is true for everybody, nothing is OBJECTIVE (ethics), we put our own perceptions in all the things we ponder, and if i try to imagine how i look from other's view when i'm outside, then all i see is critics, disdain and indifference; This is true for everyone, clearly, to me. The problems people have with others reflect problems they have with themselves.

Abandon

This woman gnaws me, where are you? What are you doing? I'm alone to battle against the devouring spectre of my muse so implicitly haughty. Help me! Help me! The cry of a dying heart; How much i will enjoy to enucleate this organ, wooden symbol of the most valued feeling of human kind. Wrongly i will bleed, this chronic suffering who fills me and leaves me since almost one year, as the undertow each day eroding a bit more of my stony being. Under the effect of a thought, an abstract vision of her, i shudder and crease like a paper thrown in a basket; As the blood she is vital, runing under my skin, abhoring the hours without her. Like a pet whose every women can turn a man, i will tear Hell for her, i will blow the clouds against my will and will instore a new oasis on this earth grained by the bombs.

The lions and the lamb

I'm not made for basketball, i'm not made for any games, any competitions, where the more ferocious ones win, where ambition gives wings and the heart is absent, why do i play whereas i'm dominating my direct opponent, using my hard gained abilities and all the athletics my body can give, while my concerns go for the man i'm playing against and feeling sorry that i score points over his head, evidently with few thoughts of this kind i can't stay aggressive for too long and naturally i abandon the defense to allow the adverse team to feel the high of winning. Let's feel high together by sharing it, to each his turn, too bad for me Sport is a man game, a war game.

The art to appear greater

Don't be fooled by the obsequious enthousiasm diplaying by the manipulators and the unhardened ones, some flatter a work because they don't understand it and some flatter it because it's a tradition, and they'll be dismissed by the unfairly accepted opinion if they really tell what they think; Behind a work, a creation there is a reflection by someone who lived and feel his own particular way, nobody should have the right to say "what this one feels is good but this other is weak", all that comes out of a man in sincerity have a right to exist. I despise the judges and the critics, those who think they know what is art and what is scribbles, they only are another oppressing association of greedy, self centered, conservative individuals, only searching to preserve some indecent privileges. Everyone has the right to materialize his visions of this world, and those creations have as much values as anyone else's, and i say ANYONE. I wish all the retrograde sycophants to stop monopolizing the praises received and given.

Without

"He felt solitude's relief and intolerably lonely. He envied whatever felt nothing : He envied oak sills and the green hill rising and the boulder by the side of the road..."

Donald HALL - "kill the day"

Wanderin'

I could go on indefinitely, watching a prefabricated life through this world-wide bazaar, imagining what it's like to dare and watch someone in his eyes, to jump from a bridge and laugh on the same tone of a group i feel i belong, these hours of video, these lines of contradictory knowledge i unravel and follow, trying to avoid the rusty nails under my feet, and the pouring indecency, i stuffed myself with virtuality, and that leads me nowhere like walking on an endless path of crumbly, musty bricks hoping for an utopian vision which will leave me panting, old and broken with no grips on reality, soon i'll be virtual for everyone too.

This is something i am aware of, if i want to materialize my dreams i have to act now.

First thing i'm sure, j'ai des sentiments pour toi Olia!
Second thing, i want to form a rock band, compose and play!
Third thing i want to learn and share all emotional matters!
Four thing, i want to write and speak languages correctly, english and french at least!
Fifth thing, i'm crazy eh eh!

Waiting in vain

Why am i unable to go out in the day, i'm like a vampire hiding in his crypt, my thirst pinching my stomach, this endless craving for something more, something greater, something who'll give a resilience to my emotions, i'm cold here, and i have enough of staying frozen by the window, my arms stretched open for this world but i can't even retain the drops from the sky spitting at my face, regularly i fail, and the smell of the precipice is more and more attractive, if only i could sleep entire days or months, forget and stop craving for a little while.

The snatching mass grave

What's interesting in Paris, people don't go dirty your boots in that mud, it's smelly and pompous, no one will notice you, they're just dead sardines in their jar, those who don't try to swindle you, will try to kill you, all is expensive and the price of the tickets don't worth the shitty antics in front of whose you'll fall asleep in a minute, the constant buzzing and agitation will give you a headache, in few days you'll be poor and spoiled, the parks are fake and each strand of grass, trees with a better trim than you, obscene and lame statues are a set up for you to buy deleterious greasy food and sugary drinks, without to forget the irrelevant, completely useless plans of the path you go, you'll feel forced to buy, just to rack it in your pocket; Don't be tricked by the greedy adds, the illusionists behind the scenery, Paris is a whore drooling for your fatass dirty Dollars, if it's not your soul!

(a simple text to equalize the score)

Divide and Conquer

Religion, patriotism, race, wealth, class and every other form of arbitrary, separatist, identification thus conceived have served to create a controled population utterly maleable on the hands of a few. Divide and Conquer.

Reign by fear

"You have to have an ennemi image in order to have a sociéty."

Carl Schmitt

Bound of the unknown

Is it too daring to kiss for someone who doesn't know
Will my lips burn of too much softness
Or will i gently press mine and rest like on a cushion
will my eyes shut down in a feverish wait for the tender abyss
Or will i dive restlessly in those foreign discs
will my hands are kind enough to slowly lay down on a waist like a downy bird
Or will it floats around like timid butterflies
will my rough cheeks won't push moments away
Will my legs be faithful to me, will i faint
I'm already lost
Won't someone teach me how to love

(i know there is something wrong with me)

Inhumanity

Rise up your head for me to give you that smile
Nobody sees you
And it seems this job has prematurely aged you
Categorized by this infamous white overall
You keep your chin on your chest
And throw your shoulders low to be non-existent
Are you shameful to wield this inexhaustible broom
This is not you and people are full of chewed all made up ideas
Embed in their heads by the keen hostesses
Indifference is worst than the sadest attack
Nobody sees you but i've seen you

a Wish

I could leave it all to see this city
What's here for me except this cup of sour agony
I hear my inner calling, begging me
It's better to smile under the rain
Than to grieve in this cozy nursery
Once upon a time i thrived in my games
Now my hands create pretty bottles for the swallowing sea
All are dry islets of my own self
How can i belong somewhere
With this spirit of insecurities
Away the livid, the afflicted cover will hide me
I want to forget in its embrace
I keep searching for that shelter
Where my life will have a sense
Where you are, where are you

Critic of Cinema

"The motivation form the majority of directors and scriptwriters isn't to educate people, what they create only exist to entertain the last ones, their films are like the fools of royal courts, they wriggle and resound but we only lose our time at watching them"

Be my writing partner

I couldn't be a novelist, because i can't write fiction, i need to feel to write and all my words are truth in my mind, it's my way of writing!; And that's why when i say "i feel for you!" it means "i love you!", It's a personal language. Before i couldn't believe the word "love" but i know so well the word "feel".
My writings are a reflect of myself, you give it life.

The wrong hour

Six hours twenty minutes in the morning!, what a bad time to be awake, it's the calmer moment of the day, all is asleep, the whole nature, this deep silence is almost creepy, fortunately the rain knocks gently to my window panes, and this sparkly sound lays a balm on my languid thoughts, i feel my eyes are burning in the remains of a difficult sleep and watching at a screen too bright make me crease it in a soft suffering, but i don't know what to do, because at this time of the day there's no alcoves welcoming enough to guide me out of this complete and sublime lethargy;
I'll have to dress then take a bus to run again in a couple of hours plus some dusty minutes, one may think i'm alone this morning with the smart spit of coldness slipping, gliding through the crack of my broken window, but i feel fine and on my swollen face the birth of a smile, it's true, here on my side, words are warmer than the roses from my friends.
Thank you! For you, the one i feel worth living.

The world in the puddle

It was in the yard of an elementary school, the all moaning seven - eight years old kids were cramming under the wide porch, pushed by the adults to hide from the thin rain; And he was crouched, there, apart from the herd, beneath the diffuse, shady light, indolent of the surrounding turmoil, the drops grazing his dark mane and running along his beardless arms, his big honey eyes focused above a newly puddle of fresh water; His innocent fingers were pressing on an ink cartridge, and the kid was floating through this entire new world pumping and spreading in the iridescent curves of the ink and water mixed; Near, enduring the rain too, i saw the beauty in the puddle and i saw the beauty in the kid experiencing the beauty in the puddle; The vision broke in pain and shouts when an advisor grabbed my brother by his ear to lock him away and lecture him about the sense of wasting materials and spoiling the school; At that time, petrified, i hated the insensitive adults, and i tell you now i haven't grow a bit recalling this misadventure as an observer, my heart swells and i'll build a wall of my body to protect the kid from the ones blind to beauty and conditioned against Dreams.

Happy bummers; Merry go round

Today i saw a miracle; They were ten sitting in row on stone steps, singing to the moon, hardly visible through the filth on their hair and teeth, mixing with the night, swinging the rags covering their skin full of scars; Their belongings in plastic bags were tied at their swollen waist, some even had no bags and no shoes, i swear i could hear their incredibly long toe nails tapping the beat on the cold concrete; I was shuffling my legs as it was plain lead along the pavement, feeling the weight of my miserable life, when those waving rocky singing reached me to awake my soul, i stayed still staring at this beautiful show without blinking, on my face the birth of a smile and, as it started to rain the screenplay remained unchanged, at this moment these deprived men were merry and i was mesmerized, and no rain nor wind or even the blast of the town could have changed this flowing sensation; A group exists i thought, and if not a group nonetheless one person for me to feel the happiness i saw tonight, and in my wildest rambling equally i almost perceived a place for someone to love in my soaked and lonely self, then it hits me : Does an homeless can be singing or am i just dreaming?!; I slapped my face on two cheeks, i don't want to know the answer fearing my loneliness could be eternal.

The Homeless Chant :

"How precious
Our teacher's teachings
Time flies swiftly
In this garden of learning
So swiftly
After all these years
We must part
Goodbye"

"Tampopo" (Dandelion)

the peace hides over there

I can't stick to the image i'd like to have,
I have huge ideas,
Ideas of absolute,
And this blog is one proof
My emotional instability comes from here,
What i feel overtop and destroy what i am.