Time Is Never Here

Time is never here

Until the day you feel

A shine behind her tears

A smile behind her lips

 

You're like a photograph

Choosing your closure time

Posing your favorite time

Choose your fuzzy time

 

Time is never here

Until the day you feel

Until you feel what's real

Until we drop enmity

 

You stand like filigreed

Grazing their empty winds

Coloring what you feel

With your tainted dreams

 

Time crashes with our fire

Crossing our fuzzy heads

Silence gives our fire

Silence is here

Time crashes with our fire

Time is over here.

Flowers Inside

"Sorry" (she didn't say)

A rose broke into pieces

Inside my heart

Her purple blood

Flooded me

 

Sometimes her spines pierces me

… As your end did

 

While you were dying

My world was collapsing

Have you heard my scream ?

 

Now that you're gone

Who'll hear my broken voice ?

 

Crashing… My world…

As your blood left your face

 

Crumbling… My heart

As your skin became flour

 

… Return to flowers…

 

Sorry dear

It's over

Where you blind? So Blind … So blind.

You were away, so away…

For saying a word.

 

Prelude To Bukowski

Floating on the air

Crossing stratosphere

I walk in empty space

Breathing a pure sense

Bukowski's flying in a higher river

Halo is carrying you

Warm-hearted

Taking care of you

 

Cold Hand

But one day

When the crows returned from darkness

Like fools

I noticed some words unfold, slowly, more and more invading…

A dragon took hold of my kingdom

Bukowski, Bukowski

No sense... Random words like dice

Stitched down the floor

From where emerged a whole picture

Bukowski

Just near leaving a woman

She left without a sound, without sound

The strong silence

Then voices

Intrusive

Around his face

Crows began to scream here all around his face

It’s over

I see a lost man struggling

Crashing like

A Chinese dragon on fire

We can’t hear his voice

But he says

« I ain't this peacock anymore »

And now he’s a free man

He can laugh at

Wishy-washy men,

Broken by purity and money

White blood flowing in their burning vein

Nothing more beautiful than to fight (against)

His own destiny

And I’d like to believe that one day

Poems

Might be where they couldn’t before

We're Not So Different

(after all)

One hand on one long leg

Embrace in tenderness

Warm fingers sliding sliding

The other ones on his face

 

Otherwise he touches your hand

 

Inox hand on dark black skin

True gold hair in dark dry wind

Two blues eyes on naked breast

Two feet slowly on your chest

 

 

 

Apart he takes her hand

Caresses her senses

Sweetness is now their common

 

So different and so close

Same eyes, same blood

We're not so different after all

The Teaser

It'is time to focus on where we are

And time to face

Stop turning around

 

                  Remember not to repeat

                  And repeat to better remember

 

                          Just Like a Teaser

Coming from... Cinema  x2

 

Nobody sees anything of your real movie

You're showing the same teaser

 

Every single day, every sample day

Like a face-to-face mirror

 

                  Remembering ourselves...

                   Remembering ourselves

 

                          Just Like a Teaser

                           Coming from... Cinema   x2

 

 

Keep one second more, Keep one second...

Keep one second more, keep one second...

Keep one second more... On Death.

 

Bukowski Crash Test

But one day

When the crows returned from darkness

Like fools

I noticed some words unfold, slowly, more and more invading…

A dragon took hold of my kingdom

Bukowski, Bukowski

No sense... Random words like dice

Stitched down the floor

From where emerged a whole picture

Bukowski

Just near leaving a woman

She left without a sound, without sound

The strong silence

Then voices

Intrusive

Around his face

Crows began to scream here all around his face

It’s over

I see a lost man struggling

Crashing like

A Chinese dragon on fire

We can’t hear his voice

But he says

« I ain't this peacock anymore »

And now he’s a free man

He can laugh at

Wishy-washy men,

Broken by purity and money

White blood flowing in their burning vein

Nothing more beautiful than to fight (against)

His own destiny

And I’d like to believe that one day

Poems

Might be where they couldn’t before