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August 05 TimesharingJe l'ai connue sans l'aimer
Une ville où les visages se font et se défont
Inconnus et identiques
Un vestige, un héritage obsolète où les voix
Éclatent sans réponse
Je l'ai vécue sans la voir
Une âme que je cherchais à réécrire
Un vide que je n'aurai jamais comblé
La vague de ses symboles peu à peu
Se retire en essuyant de son bras
Mon nom de la rive
Je l'ai aimée sans me donner
Une intensité maladive où l'on se débat
Pour ne pas être dominé par ce que l'homme
A créé pour le servir
Par cette société qui l'élimine
Au profit d'une image aux yeux du monde
Paris a pleuré pour moi, alors que je la repoussais
Paris a pleuré avec moi, alors qu'elle m'étouffait
Paris m'a rendu ce que j'avais fui
Le réel
Le choc humain
Et Paris m'a rendue, haletante et silencieuse
À un passé aveugle
Où je n'existe que par définition Cada guerra
Le ciel se lève pour me tirer du lit Et sourit à la vue de mes cheveux de colère
Mes pieds nus contre la moquette Se rappellent à peine des dalles polies Du studio de Paris
Toujours glaciales Et combattues de pantoufles
J'ai le cœur vide, il appelle Il appelle l'absence pour se défaire Des rubans qui habillaient notre intimité
Je me lève sans prier Avec des cheveux de la résistance
Et d'un désir de me détourner Du temps et du réel Je m'affaisse devant l'écran Pour y scruter un reflet de moi-même
L'intermédiaire Natures sensibles L'apaisement comme une drogue
Un silence, un calme, pour tolérer en soi Des sentiments qui convergent Et un esprit qui retient comme il perçoit
En biais et avec dédain D’un idéalisme pervers
Rageant contre la banalité Une météo prévisible
La chance ne rend pas chanceux Et l’oubli dénude Comme il libère December 27 frostbiteso i'll let time bring me back, and i'll keep my fingers crossed that the snow has not buried my throne. so many promises i did not keep, and so many dreams to carry me safe from my emptiness... i was built on high expectations, and those foundations, insubstantial, shift beneath me like quicksand; i climbed high enough to distance myself from reality, but i waver in altitude sick with fear and frustrated aspirations. i will not move any higher from this place, but i will not jump. sighing, i've begun climbing down already; i've killed enough dreams to accept myself ordinary, and there's nothing i want more, nothing i ache for more, than the all-consuming comfort of home. the seasons will have changed without me, and i return so much the same, so much humbled in my presumption, i will have brought with me the measurements of the sky... a filthy sky to render beautiful a forsaken hometown, a crowded sky to shape as serene my petty isolation. and when those who have not yet accepted me welcome my return, i will feel no contempt, only a strange comfort, acceptance of familiarity. although how any child should escape my defining tragedy i cannot fathom, beyond my ceaseless differentiation we will find ourselves circling the same prize, and we will find each other fascinated by the gap in our identical human nature. with all my resentment, and for all my plastered self-awareness, i've only been lazy and rejected. accept me as such, thrive not in an elusive comparison, and we again, we again shall be friends. December 20 panoramaAll we are, we are September 21 Collected originsit seems i've lost control, and it seems to be alright i've thought to smooth out the impulses, and underwrite my longings but all in all i'm searching for myself within these mistakes and upheavings while insanity simmers low, i don't feel uprooted and while i hide out here, i feel safe i dream up the near future with the pieces i've collected and in the end the puzzle's image is blank and only the background in the mirror has changed. because i brought my demons with me, and left most my friends at home the indigestion remains, but the heartburn is gone September 20 Choosing between Crest, Colgate, and plaqueWhat is impossible, what is extraordinary? It is only that which is thought unlikely, that which I would not think possible, is it only a matter of perception, expectation, perspective? Is it then not an external phenomenon, but a question of refusing probability to instead embrace possibility? How may I dissociate the reckless, limiting mysticism of faith from simple guts, commitment, and wide open eyes? The barriers of routine, example, reference... So supple, so easily permeated by imagination; how is it that we are only momentarily inspired by entertainment-framed visions? Could consumerism truly be subconsciously oppressive, or are we in fact satisfied with the lifestyles choices and opportunities available to us in the First World? If I make an atypical lifestyle choice, unrelated to an articulate philosophy -if I choose to sleep in a hammock, if I build a generator, if I purchase nothing for extended periods of time- I become unidentifiable to others, I exist in part outside of the system of lifestyle choices that is the basic structure of society. And it's such a wide place. If, one by one, I refuse habits and traditions I once took for granted -if I change the way I eat, if I change the way I care for and use my body, I will eventually have to choose either to remain in part embedded in the system, or to extract myself from it. And if I choose to remain, do I compromise my beliefs, or convert my environment to suit my ideals? The system becomes at once the limit to my lifestyle choices and the necessary network and template to create my own system-island, or micro-system. And what if I lack an elaborate philosophy to tie together my choices? What if they are relative to their domain, to personal curiosity and interests; what if these choices were made separately, intuitively, without an overriding principle from which to draw theory and pattern? Would I simply be said to think for myself? Would I be able to connect with others who similarly sought their own lifestyle choices, but drew different conclusions? No such community would be manageable on a large scale. Perhaps we have sought to gloss over interpersonal gaps (the inability to fully identify with another individual... a principle of individuality, really) with similar lifestyle choices, thereby sharing mundane, intimate routines. Perhaps the First World, middle-class system has made us manageable as individuals, but also enabled us to identify to one another as humans with similar lifestyle choices and aspirations... Levelling out the unlikely, the impossible and the extraordinary, for a stronger human bond constituted by a limited, though perhaps not altogether skimpy, selection of First World, middle-class expectations and opportunities. Has capitalism brought on consumer communism? To this thought, I can only say one thing: Go Jesus. August 31 forehead scribeYou insecure, angry man
Your cynicism has shaped your expectations
And has only made you wary
You accuse me of vagueness
For you wish to take literally
The feces that are these words of mine
Excess, digested thoughts I reject
To light of a load my mind
Demean this practice again and I'll bite
For your prejudice against contemplation
Is only a projection of your own paralysis
Now hush, be humble
Avow that which is mine, and a part of you August 30 Meanderer Wandering through myself, wandering beyond the present I find suspicion, doubt, fear And such a quiet, resiliant resignation I know not how to hope And preserve faith in this ideal Have I indeed converged our lives in abstraction To render us helpless to deception Barren to commitment and affection In a future we do not control; Have we dreamt up a security blanket To evade the futility of forever? My solitude has protected me; And in this looming fusion I perceive The leacherous side-effect of a leap of faith. I hesitate to outgrow ideals for which I have no second set I fear to quit that which has bought me sanity I fear to commit to that which may render me insane All truth transient, can I admit an expiry date To an absolute? Can I allow myself to nurture doubt A moment before communion Can I allow myself to search grim reality And common sense Before I give life to the impossible? He is not the aim, And so I must keep faith in my own strength To tend to this garden, vulnerable to Yet no longer at the mercy of Weather August 26 A week before, a year pastAgain the quiet, again this loaded, loaded solitude
A place in time, Keeper, surrender me concordance
Dissolve the illusion of moments elapsing
And restore to me unity, an identity unstretched along worlds and
Generations
Evanescent omnipresence, touch me with wisdom for the present
And calm for the future, for I have learned to accept
So little
I know your price, Keeper
And I have come prepared to meet it Propulsion of a homebody into the worldLive-in waiting room, a body of hope sequelled in distance and phonecalls... I've fucked my own brains out for nine months and I'm now due in ten days. From dialtone to lit-up seatbealt sign, only a hometown to put out of mind. A minute here, ten months in a place called impossible, a draft of reality in the balance. I'll spook fate with indifference, and run home to week-old friends with only my life to look forward to. And maybe light my conscience of a few cows. Stretched thinThe silence is too strong this evening I fear it will win; Free me, please... I am singled out. I close my eyes I mute my indignation And I retreat further still To where being alone Will mean nothing I have surrendered impulse And rocked in stability The livelihood of emotion I fear I can no longer retrieve myself From the numbness of sanity From the limitations of integrity In this cage I am protected And I am disarmed In this prison I am alone And alone I am powerless August 11 botched prayer You are dead, friend Dead and gone Time flies by and you've been but a glimpse Seen but a glimpse And the chapter was brought to a halt The book slammed shut I have taken from you And you cannot be happy with what you have found What could have been is now shot And really, it matters not I did not dream And I did not force What happened I've come to peace Surrendering the anger of hope And I need not more than a fleeting image Of the dirt in which you lie To push from me Your memory We part ways and my plans never have changed We part and you have disappeared Good luck to us both CodexA game beyond forgiveness A senseless drive Draws forth temptation after Temptation Slowly shredding safeguard illusions Not a thought, not a feeling To repress this craving To withhold that which is no longer mine Strike now, foe, fill me with satisfaction Or seal me maiden To him... Silent nightThere's no getting around it tonight As I stretch out forearm, and fingers; The quiet air commands my attention, And I am pulled away from myself I sigh and know I have reached out; Tonight only patience Will overcome the need I have been driven from my shell To meet bars of solitude And tonight I remember- The hermit is not immune The cage is empty And I roam freely, at least I now exist in a continuum; And the sacrifice tonight Strengthened by past cries of release, Will fade by morning And so the anger fails And the disappointment is lulled; I rest my shoulder and cheek Against the many resolutions That have come to shape my prison, And I caress its bars of judgment As I toy with the same, Familiar doubt I hope one day to escape The fraud of self-sufficiency no pillowfights before bedtimeNo pillowfights before bedtime She pressed the tip of the blade Against the tip of her forefinger "Ends meet..." And she smiled to herself in derision She set the knife down and looked up Taking in her reflection. She should have flinched; she in place searched her face For either hope or fatality The image before her was not one she could read. She gazed at her open palm, slammed her hand onto the wide blade Clasped it with enough force to sense the sting of the weapon's threat. "Can I not create?" She looked away, her chin brushing her shoulder, Fingers wound tightly around the knife She closed her eyes Held back a sigh "I am corrupting you too, second innocence." She straightened, threw her head back The first tears swept her temples, stained her hair In the next moment her jaw clenched, And she once more faced her reflection "I know only anger and you, only retribution I punish you To earn the right to forgive myself; You strive for death, while I struggle to retain a purity I no longer hoped for. We limit one another. Free me, and I will slay you." She uncoiled her fingers from the silver blade, and Fell to the floor The sound was answered by that of quickened footsteps, And two hands Lightly pressed her shoulders; She would not meet his eye, She shook her head as she heard him Tentatively lift the knife, mute "I cheated on you." She could feel his head snap towards her, and she Imagined he clenched the weapon "One time too many." She felt him approach, and she withheld her tears Held her breath Until she let out a cry of release, her guilt escaping "Your purity for mine..." Raise an empty glass Somewhere along the line, I don't know why I seem to fall to the bottom of the list And become the one Who will 'understand' As though I did not feel As though I would not stoop to care I almost told him the same as I once did To the Swan, The damn bitch I defended while she Flew away 'Stay away, then I have no use for memories Or the empty shell of a friend' But we're not there yet; I have yet more disappointment to undergo And I threw more Second chances his way Don't ask me why, because you and I both see The sand running through my fingers ---Because denial is hope for the disheartened Don't you see that I'm leaving Because I have nothing to leave behind? I've given up on those Who've taken me for granted I fire yet another friend For quitting And I repudiate rejection So as to be left alone... The sickening smell of saturationAnother week spent waiting For you to contact me Your earnestness is overshadowed by your silence And my trust is degrading We overstepped a boundary And I still don't know if you care You won't commit to more than safe concessions And I know you are not so single-minded I pushed. You gave in I hate that all you have to be Is passive I'm tired of hoping for the conditions to fall And I'm tired of your defenses I want a friend, and you've become more and more Scarce I'm sorry to think you are not willing to care And that I am not worthy enough an acquaintance I hoped you could tell me how you dealt with the guilt If you felt any I hoped you could tell me how you felt But you've not even been here And I've answered it all myself Meeting you has given me So much And I've alighted with new hope, New doubt And new hesitation What I saw as a crystalline connection Has thickened to murky attraction And I know not if I could have hoped to retain your attention Any longer Can we be friends? Can you be there? I have been too understanding And your honesty has been too selective You feel vacant And I feel insecure And since I've met you I've been on the verge On the verge of reverting back To the numbing comforts of abandon You helped me find a Quiet A Quiet for myself Will you come fucking share this with me?! R.I.P quiet foolagain this quiet air, again i thrive remember me, world? i come to commune with you in silence, so often now in my solitude i dwelve beyond my individuality and you and i, once more, meddle in infinity; whole, separate and indefinite only a glimpse of life i have become aware of what lies beneath your motion and balance a pool of humanity, barely rippling at the surface yet whose depths continually storm again a familiar placeagain a familiar place in time numb expectations, a tired scream this weeping manner... how justified how legitimate? safe cluster of indulgences of which i may never again step out even my cries sound rehearsed exercising integrity i enslave so many impulses cage my corporeality regression and evolution are here confounded and i live apart, aside where so little ever applies... and everything is left to interpretation; with emerging professionalism at human contact i become an industry of empty manipulation and of powerless sincerity washing pasttie to me this memory, shelter me while i bask in this in this moment separate i've cradled myself in meeting you taught this solitude to free me pretty ghost, haunt me still for i cannot pursue you the hushed hope you carry, i suffer to forget how i wish to flee with you past the motions of reality how i pray to still in in your quiet whistles and your evanescent hold i bow, Keeper, i bow to your wisdom i cannot offer myself whole; and it is the fleeting quality of your touch which perpetrates your influence beyond dominions of time |
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