Il n’existe pas
On m’a dit un jour
Et les registres en confirment !
–
Personne ne l’a pas vu
Ou entendu
Il faut qu’il soit un être virtuel
–
Un fantasme
Issu de l’imagination
Un nuage fugace
–
Mais qui est l’homme
À l’état sauvage
Qui a le regard fixe ?
–
Un sujet tabou
Et vraiment épineux
–
Pourquoi respire-t-il profondément,
S’il n’est pas réel ?
–
Peut-être
Ils ne lui ont pas dit
Et il ne pourrait pas
Comprendre
–
Il n’existe pas
Il n’a jamais existé
Car il est l’homme expurgé
Knuckles round knife
And cutting the slice,
Peeling and paring
The earthen skin.
–
Searching the puzzle
And picking apart
Easing the seems
In integral heart.
–
Swollen of toe
In junior school shoes,
Casting away,
The things I must lose.
–
Barnacle’s grip
On memory rocks
Washed by the tides,
To loosen the locks.
–
Time is the oil,
Of Sesame’s call
Choosing the future
Amongst potential’s all.
–
Taking the grey ships
Into the West.
Death of the Old,
And pains in my chest.
–
Left on the beach,
In seaweed embrace.
Turning away
And looking for pace.
–
Leaving behind,
The more that you take,
Footsteps in sand,
And thirst that won’t slake.
–
Melancholy’s magic,
Tempers my mood
Washes the cheeks
And deadens the food.
–
Waiting and watching,
For sunrise in East,
Birth of the Knew,
Is bringing its feast.
–
Release is elastic
And stretches the thread,
Taking the knife,
And paring it dead.
–
Pulling on chord,
In navel hue
Eviscerate and cleanse,
The time it is due.
–
Letting it go
Is hard and IT aches
–
Letting it go
Is sad with BUT brakes.
–
Letting it go
Is now and IT takes.
–
Letting it go
Is time and IT makes.
–
Letting it go,
Is free and NO fakes.
–
Go to the door,
Yell at the sky
Open those wings,
It is, time to fly.
–
Raising above,
And looking down.
How small is the past
How distant, its town.
–
Ginger bread houses
And icing sugar roof
The future is here
Please, give me some proof.
–
Letting it go
Is hard as nails.
–
Letting it go
Is hard as ….
–
Letting it go
Is hard……
–
Letting it go
Is…….
–
Gone.
Sodium yellow faded night
in trash can alley
where all the dreams go to die
the Neon signs buzz wasps
–
Rats scurry into their KFC homes
for that last bite of chicken
the deep ammoniacal doorways
still wet, pungent and steaming
–
Tin foils and methadone
bottles lined up on a wall
if one should accidentally fall
what would Odin do?
–
Strung out for Yggdrasil
a strange fruit pendant
where all the Stigmata
still bleed in his palms
–
He has no more
alms to give
his bowl now
stamped VOID and empty
–
From out all the alphabet soup
can find not now a word
though he can see plenty
and hear all, those whispers
–
On the sidewalk of shame
he sees the resting place
a white chalk line
shaped like a man
… … his totality
–
The resplendent banners
fluttering triumphant in the breeze
saying; “Do Not Cross”
are bathed in the flashing blues
… … of his final siren song
–
they were too late
John Doe was DOA
clutching at straws to the very end
there a single celluloid lay, crinkled
… … beside him
–
No one noticed as the city wind
carried it silent away as
the first teardrop rain
lands sidewalk slowly
… … the night it sobs just a little
–
The pitter-patter of tiny feet
with chamois softness
start to work on him
and before the commuters
… … he will be gone
–
His Etch-a-Sketch life
all iron filings
has drawn its last
and no photo-fit
… … will ever capture him again
–
Not now, not ever.
There once was a terrible mess
All over the house I confess
But it was not mine
Who made it this time
I will not clean it under duress
–
The room is an absolute state
There is not a second to wait
Two nights in a row
The dreams they did show
That people have lost touch with fate
–
It looks like some Branston pickle
Has fallen in ways which are fickle
All over the floor
Now blocking the door
And things are as sticky as treacle
–
If the right questions are found
When Mr Chaos abounds
One might start
To look in the heart
For ways and means that are sound
–
For behind secrets which are kept
Under grievances’ duvet well slept
One might find a clue
As to what is yet true
And not far under the carpet swept
–
A bacterial culture E. Coli
Multiplies under the sky
And this little strain
Enjoys a refrain
Feeding on fear in the pie
–
Two nights and dreamers both twice
Have dreams of messes and mice
Not ours to solve
Nor to evolve
It all hangs on a throw of the dice
–
So now these little rhymes
Are but signs of the times
Action quite quick
Before falling sick
Will stop anymore crimes
–
So in all the houses and homes
And beneath the sacred domes
Look for debris
Related to me
For what can be done to atone
–
If things continue to drift
Will open further a rift
That will not heal
Perhaps forever I feel
Now time to get on with the shift!!
–
So on this most misty of mornings
And just as the new day is dawning
The poet did write
As day follows night
To issue this song as a warning.
L’écureuil cherche avidement
Les noix cachées
Ses mots qu’il a déjà dits
Il y en a tant
–
Dans le brouillard de temps
Il a beaucoup oublié
Il blâme tous les autres
Les doigts comme les épées
–
Il chauffe l’huile brûlant et
Aiguise ses histoires élastiques
Avec un verre d’advocaat
Il est devenu plastique
–
On ne pourrait jamais accepter
Un colis juste comme ça
Madame la factrice
Je ne suis pas chez moi
–
Même s’il reste
Sur le lit de mort
Il peut tricher Dieu
Qu’il n’a pas du tort
–
Les mains aux oreilles
Pour les protéger
Au cas où ils vont roussir
Les mots de la vérité
–
Le singe de sagesse
Va nier tout car
Le boomerang prodigue
Jamais retournera
–
Les poings fermés
En grinçant les dents
Il n’avalerait jamais
Parce que, parce que
–
Le sage lui a donné une pelle
Pour trouver ses noix perdues
Et il creuse á l’Australie
Parce que, parce que
–
Le maçon en pierres
A finalement écrit
Sur sa pierre tombale
« Il avait toujours raison, parce que, parce que »
As you emptied the magazine
of .357 reasons why,
did you pause to reload?
–
Each hollow point
spreading traces
of shiny, justified lead
–
Did you keep a tally
as they mounted up,
your casings on the floor?
–
When I couldn’t prove
beyond a reasonable doubt,
did that gavel strike?
–
And when they chalked me up
to experience
did you applaud?
–
In the blue flashing lights
my mortal imprint fading
in the winter rain
–
And when Sherlock comes
looking for proof,
will he find it?
–
That line by line refutation
did it convince your heart?
Does it now?
–
I am sorry that
I could not justify my love
…enough
–
and you couldn’t yours….
He was never the same
When he came back
Those eyes
Had seen too much
Those ears
Had heard too much
–
He often joked
About the crack
In him
–
Quiet as a mouse
He scurries down the corridors
Polite and friendly to all
Johnny is warm
And he laughs a lot
–
On the turn of a penny
He is at the front again
Running down the chattering nests
Of Kalashnikov rain
–
All battle plans
And lights, camera, action
–
And then he is far away
Lost in the tranquil dreams
Of another land
Of rustic charm and mystic dew
–
Of soft and yielding maids
And battleaxe dragons
–
When he isn’t looking
The passion plays
And he speaks in ways
That no-one forgets
–
Yet each time he does this
They all know
And look again
And then pretend
They haven’t heard
–
For somehow it is impolite
To stray from the weather
–
Johnny knows that
People seek him
So he hides
–
He told me it was gravity
And it was better to hide
Than to say no
–
Because he rarely takes
People are somehow
Ill at ease
–
They want him to give
Yet know there is no balance
–
Johnny said it was the crack
That made him a little mad
And that, lights were best
Kept
Under the carpet
–
Johnny two worlds
Is a practical man
He gets stuff done
–
Johnny two worlds
Is as reliable as bread
–
Yet
Let
Him
Dream
–
And Johnny two worlds
Walks the thunder
And the wonder
Of
Infinity
–
He was never the same
When he came back
Those eyes
Had seen too much
Those ears
Had heard too much
Traou an Dour 
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