Tornado

«Lying on my bed, naked... 

and thinking about you» 

–you texted.

 

Then later, predictably, 

you regretted it,

naturally self-vexed.

 

More! You apologized, 

Oh, so manly,

for having caused «a tornado in my head».

How thoughtful of you,

how sensitive...

But presumptuous too.

Do you really think

that I am hanging by a thread?

Do you honestly believe

that I am doomed by weakness

or some stupid romantic fate?

Well, learn this, if you can

(it may not be too late):

No woman gets turned on

by the image of a naked man.

 

 

And this is no joke, 

like I said, 

though we are playing a game...

But your performance,

I must add,

is becoming pretty lame.

Cruelty

It pains me to hear

about your desire

as I am almost certain

that you will do nothing 

to put out the fire.

Terribly cruel they are -

The things you say to me.

Yes, I admit,

you could well say the same

of what I write for you.

I also provoke your lust

as if you were not tied down

by loyalty and trust.

 

Well, the suffering we inflict

upon each other -

this cruelty we live by today -

is becoming too hard to bare,

too strong to endure.

Especially considering that this malady,

this evil, long-lasting spell

is so easy to cure.

In my dreams

 

In my dreams

we do fuck.

After all -

What are dreams for?

Dreams are not for dreaming -

For that we have life.

They're for doing what we want.

And in my dreams

you want me

just as bad as I want you.

So, you take me

you wake me

you play me too.

You make me vibrate to the bone.

And I don't stay on

to watch the sunset

alone.

Truth with no consequence

 You don't have to believe it

— you said.

Things happen anyway,

whether you believe in them

or not — you explained,

so that I would accept

that you think of me everyday.

Wow, I thought.

Who am I to question that?

It seems too good to be true,

But I want to believe it,

So, yes: I solemnly do.

Now, perhaps I can explain

Why that particular truth

that you matter-of-factly declare

is so hard for me to accept,

indeed 

difficult to bare.

It is not like the cure

for a deadly disease,

planes flying themselves,

some long bloody war

suddenly ending with ease:

those truths don't change

 the course of my life.

Your statement, on the other hand...

well!

Shouldn't it make me your wife?

Giant rose

She grew so much
somehow
that she became as tall
as a small tree.

But instead of looking down
on other flowers
she shined discretely
among the foliage -
she was a beauty
no one could see.

Some said:
Serves her right
for aiming so high...
Now she can only
be seen from the sky!

But all she wanted
was to survive:
she had stretched,
and fought,
she had reached out
for light.
She had merely done
what seemed to be right.
And she had cried
and doubted herself
at night;
she had been afraid
and alone,
almost gave up
the fight.

But now,
finally,
she could feel the sun
on her smooth petals,
She was filled with strength,
confidence and glee.

She did not care
if others could see.
All that she wanted
was to live on,
caressed
by the generous breath
from above,
and to offer,
in return,
her glowing beauty,
her being,
her best.

She was overjoyed,
she needed nothing else,
she could rest:
she had reached
the end of her quest.

She was home.
She was blessed.
This was love.

Nous

Nous.
Un mot si simple
qu'il passe inaperçu
dans le lexique de la vie.

Cependant,
il a une complexité magique,
trompeuse
illusoire.

Ce n'est pas primitif, le nous.
C'est le résultat des efforts complices
des soins patients,
d'un équilibre agile
fragile
mais si gratifiant
si révélateur
si beau
qu'il transforme
le tu et le je
dedans et autour
le monde et le jour:

Tout devient
totalement nouveau.

Exuberance

It may be early, still
I may be mistaken
and fall flat on my face
to my shame.

But I long for the thrill.

I want to be taken
into your secret place
of which I know nothing
                                      (not even the name)
and be guided and taught
tasted and bitten
grabbed, perhaps shaken
(Yes, I want you to tame me
and I trust that you will)
made to expose
all of my flaws
and my deep hidden blame
which you will kindly
                                          lovingly
unfold.

And then, of course,
I want tenderness too:
to be embraced
kissed and caressed
warmly possessed

so as not to return
to my world.

I should've

That evening
when you opened a ladder
so I could climb it
and pick the remaining plums
from your tree
in the dusk

when we watered your garden
together
after you got my sandals
totally soaked
and then I pointed the hose
at your shorts
in revenge

when you picked
Chinese lanterns
for me
and I took them in my hand
to taste them politely

and when you
caressed my arm
while I lay
against your chest
as I confessed
the obvious,
oblivious of the game
we played...

I should've fallen
to the ground
so you would pick me up
and lay me to rest
on that hammock
of yours

I should've stayed.

I should've
let you soak
the whole of me

I should've
eaten the fruit
off your hand
and licked your fingers
in the end

I should've
been bold
and wild
and free

I should've
had you
and let you
have me.

Ideally

Inevitably
commotion and disruption have to exist:
chaos needs to take over
and precede tranquility
all beauty stems from a beast.


Inadvertently
I brough chaos upon my life
by summoning
your ghostly presence
from the sleeping past

but you decided to commit the crime of theft:
you took my own tranquility elsewhere
hence there is no right
to where I am now left.

Ideally
I will wait quietly for 27 years
Just like you waited quietly
27 years before.

I will be patient
even though I suffer immensely
and long desperately
for more.

Ideally
You will return,
bring chaos back,
and thrust my rotten peace
with your shining silver spear.

Gratefully
I will welcome
the pain and insecurity,
and despise tranquility itself
just as long
as you stay here.

Icarus

He was not a god
but who cares -
people think he was
and that is all that matters,
along with the fact,
of course,
that he messed up
his own life
for being so human-like:
easily overcome by excitement,
so impulsive and lighthearted
so eager to go higher
and be more.


You, though
you were my god:
my higher self
the voice of reason
my guiding light.
No flame, however bright,
could even burn your wings
No sea would ever drown you
No power overcome you
under my eyes.


Alas, you fell.
Not for some fearless,
defying deed,
but for a simple comment,
an unfortunate
choice of words.

I know it seems unfair,
maybe exaggerated.
But it happened
in a second -
as the sudden flight
of a dozen birds.

You may be wise,
upright and just,
you may be godlike, still,
but I
I have ceased to be devout.
And thus, you are no longer
someone I look up to,
trust and believe
beyond any doubt.


Now, the good news is:
you're safe and sound.
And since you're down here...
we can lie down together
on the ground.

The wrong music

I was listening to the wrong music
while trying to forget him.

They were such melodious songs
(that I discovered by chance
just after he left me)
and the lyrics
- predictably, yes, about relationships -
were so conveniently adjustable
to our story
that I could not resist.

I cried and cried
every time I heard them
on my daily
melancholy dose of masochism
to and from work
until I thought:
why do I insist?

After all, I had realised
that the reason for clinging
onto the lost him and the lost us
was pure lust
for my own lost me:
he was just a ghost
who had brought back
at last
what I valued most
from the past.

Then I understood
where I could find the key
to free myself from this
depressing carousel:
To hear the music that I loved the most
in the days when we were young -
the days I had believed
he could revive.

What a revelation I discovered!
My fondest memories,
those I wish to cherish
do not involve his presence in my life.
This passion,
this love I thought I felt
thirty years ago,
was really just a con.

So, thanks to Alan Parson's,
I can finally unchain myself
and move on.

All you can eat

Having worked hard
goal-focused for years
steering that brilliant mind of yours
towards the top of the chain
it is no wonder
you feel special and proud
for the good use you gave
to your top-notch brain.


Now in tranquil prosperity
while cruising away
you thrive on
at a steady pace
and smilingly watch
her loving online face
as she blows you a virtual kiss
from back home.

(Even when you travel alone,
as you must,
you know all is fine,
abundance is bliss.)

However,
despite all you conquered -
the safety, stability and trust -
as you dine by yourself
at some neat, fancy place
enjoying the pleasures
of all you can eat
there is a bitter taste
in your satiated mouth:
You know, beyond doubt,
That unshared delight
is hollow,
not merely brief -

be it luxury,
sushi,
or Brazilian beef.

I must be saved (Madeleine Peyroux)

Invisible man

Standing there
by the bar
holding your gin
silently watching
people near and far
all those anonymous faces
a gorgeous smile
a funny grin...

you hover above
you observe
and you accept
with melancholy graveness
the fact that no one sees you,
no one gives a toss.

You may be ignored
between these walls
but outside
your convertible awaits
to take you home
where there is love
along with all the comforts
anyone could wish for
and you're the boss.


So, why is there a trace
of longing and sadness
in your gaze?
Is it something
that you left behind?
Or something that you chase
and cannot find?

Furnace

That statement of yours -
Oh my... -
It really did ignite something inside!
I only wish that these flames
could be allowed
to burn wild.

But how can you decide
in advance
whom you're going to spend the night
thinking about?
Don't you know thoughts
are commanded by whim
as well as will?
I have no doubt!

But then again,
if you succeeded in harnessing
your mental activity
according to the plan,
I hope that your emotions
got the better of you
and that the next time we meet
our fire hits the fan.

Happy f...cking birthday

It's been months
And I'm still not over the rejection
the frustration, the pain
the anger
- pure rage, I would say -
that all I felt and said to you
was in vain.


But being far away,
not hearing from you,
not knowing what you're doing
or with whom
was definitely helping.


Now, my f...cking birthday
had to come
and make you send me f...cking wishes
for it to be f...cking happy,
just like that,
out of the f...cking blue.


Really?


Now I feel like I need
several f...cking years
to get a grip on myself
to dry these tears
and start anew.

And the irony is this:
Even though you don't want me
and even though I'm f...cked enough
I'd still rather be there
feeling lousy
f...cking you.

Mirror, mirror

Mirror, mirror
on the wall

tell me, please,
will I keep standing
if my certainties crumble
and my principles sprawl?
Will I endure,
maintain my poise,
or will I have to kneel
and crawl?

Mirror, mirror
on the wall

when all my desires
conspire to seize me
and allure me
with their call,
will I then be able
to look you in the eye
even if I feel
like risking a fall?

Mirror, mirror
on the wall

Will I remain serene
and civilized
as I blow it all,
will I be appeased
or come to break you
into petty little pieces
the day my reflection
releases me

from this chain
and heavy ball?

The hardest challenge

There are many things
that limit our actions,
you said,
but many more
that challenge us.

And I drew a new strength
from your confidence.

My love for you
 grows in inverse proportion
to the time we have left,
you wrote.

And I drew a strange comfort
from that blow.

Miracles happen,
you used to repeat.
Tsunamis too.

But waiting
simply waiting
wouldn't do.

So, the courage you lacked
to change your life
I took
and changed mine
for you                              (...?)


But perhaps the hardest challenge
the most impressive strength
lies in resisting
remaining
like you do:

unchanged
unfulfilled
wanting
but unwilling
to make your dreams
come true.

No

No, I am not going
to write a poem
this time.

There's no point
anymore
no reason or rhyme
to lay out my pangs
in a neat
verbal line

to polish your ego
make it shine

to appease the desire
to make you mine.

On the beach

Engrossed and thrilled
we were both drawing
beautiful shapes
on the smooth, wet sand
with our witness
the sea.

The textures and lines
we created together
felt like the very bonds
that drew us closer
as we became at once
united and free.


But all of a sudden
you stopped,
stared at the pattern
and declared:
«This is pointless!
The tide is coming in!
What a mistake we have made!»

Then, with rational madness,
you erased our fancy world of fantasy
and walked away towards the shade.