Process

Process.

Well, that time of the year again. They call it "the end of the year", on some random calendar. If I lived in a jungle or a cave somewhere, I would not know of such a time. There would be no xmess, no winter solstice or other priest and priestress dubious marketing schemes. Yet, I don't live in a cave, so I watch and observe the circus. When it doesn't just seem like a very sad and ignorant joke, the lights decoration can be almost pretty to the eye. Yet, the absurdity of it all, keeps a strange juice somewhere, deep in the guts.

Letter from a kid

Dear Santa,

Well, here comes that time of the year again. I see in the shops that you are all over the place again, so, I know, it's that time again. I don't know how you can be in so many places at the same time, everywhere I go, you are there. Maybe you have many twin brothers, or maybe you travel really really fast? I don't know, and every time I tried speaking to you, I get no replies, except your "ho ho ho". So, this year, for the first time, I will write a letter to you. I hope you are doing good, and that you are not too tired from packing all the gifts for the kids.

The blame game

The blame game.

When I was imature, I blamed you
Everything that was going wrong was your fault.
It was easy being a kid, easy being blind.
You took all the forms I wanted,
Parents, governement, religions, lovers.
It was easy blaming you.

One day

One day

One day, my Prince will come, he will be absolutely perfect, and he will stay.
One day, chickens will have teeth et lions will sleep with the sheeps.
One day, the world will be a heaven of peace, and everyone will love each other.
One day, it will be Paradise on Earth where all will be artificial.

The drop of water

The drop of water.

I clung to you, like a drop of water to a cloud

I was afraid to fall from the sky

We were a fusion

The more I hung to you, the more the inevitable approached: the storm.

Tartine et confiture

Candy Crush ou une métaphore de Vie.
Ou La confession d'un enfant du siècle dans l'age digital pour un hommage à Alfred de Musset.
(attention, ce texte peut contenir des mots vulgaires)

“S'il y a quelqu'un là-haut, il doit bien rire de nous tous ; 

cela est très comique, très comique, vraiment.”
Alfred de Musset.

Click click click. Je regarde les bonbons s'éclater, la confiture s'étaler, je sauve pleins d'oursons. Bref, je fais ce que l'on appelle "perdre son temps". Pour être honnête, je n'aie jamais vraiment comprise ce que cette expression veut dire. Comment pourrais t'on perdre notre Temps, alors, que le Temps est tout ce que nous avons? Quoi que je sache pertinemment que lorsque je joue des heures durant à Candy Crush, je ne peux pas dire que je me sens "satisfaite", pourtant durant mes méditations de clickage, je continue mon chemin. Pour faire mon intello, Candy Crush peut être utilisée comme une bonne métaphore de ce que je comprends de la Vie. Alors, allons y, pour une métaphore de la Vie selon Candy Crush.

Data recycling

 Data recycling.

"They say we are a material society, but we have no respect for the material world". Alan Watts.

Sometimes, I empty houses. Strangers, grandmother, family houses get even more personal of course, yet, objects remain objects. It's always a strange meditation on life, death, and what we live behind us when we go. The boxes of clothes, the kitchen wares, all will get eaten by mold and other fungus. All will go back to nature, back to dust we go. Objects fall apart, rotten by years of humidity, eaten by insects and time from which matter has no escape.
What are we, poor little mortals.

Une bouteille à la mer

A bottle to the ocean

I prefered to live with your memory than to live with You. I was too afraid to loose you, so I kept you close to me, for never, always and again. If sometimes I missed your body, all I had to do was to breathe and let you slowly penetrate me like a breath of lukewarm air envelopping me with softness.
I prefered your memory to the idea of loosing you. So, I splashed you, everywhere like drops of water on the ocean. I covered you in blue, green and gold. I gave you all the forms imaginable and unimaginable just to better meet you again, to better tame you.
Next time my friend, next time will be the right one, and never again we will forget that we were made to love each other, under one form or another, this has no importance.

Thanks for the dance

Thanks for the dance

Would like to write snow

But how could I

Better to let silence envelop me

Melting while facing so much beauty.

A white dress covers the Earth

An arranged marriage between Her and Sky

For a day or a season

Winter sleeps.

Doodles

Doodles

Eat, nap, eat, sleep

Sleep at night

Play the days

Fog, blue sky, rain

All pass painted by light.

Gratitude

Gratitude

So... My fingers got out of the rust. I put some oil on them, and they started running again. I had been stuck on poetry mode for the last 2 years (in french here). This was the time I came back to my natal country after a long 30 years journey accross the oceans and continents. Since back, all I wrote was poetry. Mind you, poetry is great, fast, efficient. In poetry I learned to erase any extra words. In poetry, I cut to the essentials. Poetry, as a form of hacking: the shortest, most efficient code. Yet, my romantic mind longued to align a few words in order to form a sentence. As the waves passed, the ship started to sail smooth, and sentences started coming back. Often, I was told: "you think too much". Of course I rebelled against this thought, and defended my position best I could. Yet, it was a corect diagnosis. "You have too much wind" said an old Tibetan doctor I went to see a few years in a row. "You think too much" he repeated. The 3rd year, I finally got an explanation to his diagnosis. "It's ok to think. But it's better to think of butterflies" the old doctor said. Now, if this seems like a simple truth, simple things are sometimes the hardest to implement in our daily life. 

Down the road

Down the road

So many poems left on the way

Paintings and songs forgotten

Doesn't matter

All we got is now.

Museums, walls, libraries

Once upon a time they were

Taxes for the rich

Culture and yogourt.

Thangkas

"The mandala is a symbol of individuation.
The energy of the central point is manifested in the compulsion and the need almost irresistable to become what we Are."
C.G. Jung

A day on a lake

A day on a lake

Green canvas

Silver blue reflects on the water

Vibrations laps

Flip flop to the rive

Silence of the trees

The wind to the leaves whispers

A few branches light up the night.

Stardust

Stardust

Some say it's all just time pass

Write a novel, break up atoms

Scratch your navel, make love

Sit in the park, laugh or cry

No matter what, the seasons pass

all is green, the children laugh

all is green, the children laugh

crickets, Debussy, flowers, colors

a walk through the woods, night is falling

a rail road track, a glass of wine

all is green

i heard, it's all time pass

sometimes sublime, others a killer boredom

a piano note, a singing bird

children laugh

where to draw the line between boredom and bliss

i don't know anymore

i learned to keep quiet

all is green

a beautiful day, another one

they pass as sand castles do

one day the tree is green, tomorrow dead

children laugh

In french here.

Freedom dreams

I want to be free
I want to do what i want
I want it all
We all want to be free
We all want it all
But sorry my friend
Freedom was yet another myth
Just one of those stories we tell the kids
Another best seller on the bookshelves
Another lie sitting next to the enlightment pages
Cause you see my friend
Nothing is for free
As an old monk once told me
There is a price to pay for everything
Others say that the only freedom
Is freedom from the known
Each say what they want
I don't believe it no more
So better swallow your freedom dreams
Was just another lie
There is only action and consequences
There is only living with our choices
Keep your freedom dreams for hippie land and other liberals
I don't need them no more
It was just a hallucination
What remains is what we share

En français ici.

Your arms

 your arms

we say we love each other
we say it's for ever
but you see
life passes
so i wonder
what life was
a moment with you
a moment with me
in the end i'll tell you
when i'll be dead
what life was
a moment that passed
with or without you
time passed
i liked it better with you
but sometimes you were not there
so i invented you
building houses
writing songs
smiling to the wind
painting walls and gardens
i  did all i could to forget
that in your arms is where i want to be

En francais ici.

On top of the world

 On top of the world

There was mountains, as far as the eyes could see
High up there in the sky, there was a city full of dust
Kathmandu they called it
Lost tourists came from all over
They wanted to climb as far as they could.

Some wanted to save the world, another way to save thyself
Others just wanted to escape who knows what
A few just wanted nothing
Most didn't know what they wanted
The locals just wanted money, just like most in the world...

Putains de hippies

 

Putains de hippies

Ils jouent, ils fument, ils trippent
Ils dansent et voyagent le monde
Un crystal coincé dans le cus
Mettant des couleurs sur un monde gris
Les enfants rêvent.