Cet amour-là

"Elle dit: non, ne pleurez pas, ce n'est pas triste, en rien, en aucun cas. Il s'agit de vous et de pas vous, oubliez votre personne, ça n'a aucune importance. Il ne faut pas se prendre pour un héros. Vous êtes rien. C'est ce qui me plaît. Restez comme ça. Ne changez pas. Restez. On va lire ensemble."

Yann Andréa
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est Fondations. Afficher tous les articles
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est Fondations. Afficher tous les articles

The boat of despair

When the end begun stones fell out of her chest
Dampness in the mouth
Dry burning eyes
Too bad too old too broke
Feet wouldn’t walk
The limit of the horizon asked a question
Only the sea could answer
Crawl in my mouth, fill my hand
Free me

Just at the entrance of the woods
Ashes and the passing of dears
Some smell the blood others think of those nostrils who smelt wood
A pure definition of the soul
Moist mushrooms

A lung broke, gasp of air
My heart fled
The boat of despair can go on

Panamarenko

Please

There were so many stars in the sky that night
A burning river and winter in my brain
Finger to finger always makes me shiver
Would you please aknowledge the folding of my knee
The saddness of impossible dreams

Two flowers down my face and longing
For the taste of unknown pleasure
I ate a burger and three kings
I didn't bother to burry any of those things you say matter
A cloud was fading the sun had won all battles
Would you please walk around the paddle
Drives never stop unless they're beaten up against a cold damp wall

This long letter I've been writing for ever
Never reached the right word
Meanings collapsed each step of the way



Beuys

Colossus education

Foam and drops in my ear without a sound
Lips, hands, throats and bubbles
No shell to hide
Filthy pleasure

Neat and measured voice
The lift couldn't stand your feet on the ground
To many greens depending on the time of the day
Some black and white wishes carve painful lines
From blue they sometimes turn to grey
No vanishing

Rubber boots tiny legs
A tale that is to be said
All the robins fled:
The can was too great
The roads too wide spread
The meaningless ideas
Would never match a tick of that clock
You use to convey your sensations


Araki