02 décembre 2007

Banana peels’s barbershop’song.

Well, you’re peeling my pilling heart with a sharp steel big razor… Dust bunnies indeed is harvesting your blade! And my naked heart is alive and slaps like a vivid ragtime... Stinging as my chin in the morning before the foam and edge’s ritual. Chin music, song of the brush, or your silky bush’s lullaby. Sparks and flinker while rubbing chin and rummaging gliding wet skin! Sweet hurricanes. Drifting, gliding, creeping outside. While shucking my heart and maybe elsewhere. Anyway,bananas are not the only fruit. But... [Lire la suite]
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27 novembre 2007

Eels and snakes : A bullshit’s daughter’s song.

Le latin brave l’honnêteté. Gustave Flaubert, Dictionnaire des idées reçues. Unfortunately I have no loom. They don’t sell pocket looms in general stores. Looms to weave eels. Or snakes. Or both. Warp and woof! I don’t mean eels in oil. Nor snakes in liquor. I mean alive. Both of them. If I had a loom, I‘d like to weave a carpet. A gliding one. A sliding and moving carpet. Woven with eels and snakes. For Scorpios are hard to weave. They don’t agree. Eels and snakes too. Eels, I said... I did? I really said eels? What a... [Lire la suite]
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24 novembre 2007

Flibbertigibbet Suzy

Flibbertigibbet Suzy is crying what’up now shaking a bone or two from her big skeletton. I did love that occur menawhile omens were true and when the big dark dash was entering inside. So you know what I mean and the tide is coming: Suzy is always doing the double twist and dark days are over and chastity so weird. Flibbertigibbet Suzy dances like eels in pure oil playing the character of sewer-born bad girl. But she is a lady of desire and suburbs, district of lick-and-bite near eternity galore and more as we have seen all... [Lire la suite]
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23 novembre 2007

Crude Samantha’s dark obscene song of fried brill, dated eggs and booiled cocks.

Well those men were certainly wtanted to be modern. As those eggs, you know? With the day printed. And they sing like the cock in his feathers gladrags ! Anyway, all the stories have been told. Something childish, isn’t it? Samantha, eating fried brilll, said that making love would be nice as a black garden party... She meant black not as night, because she needs the light outside. But darness inside. Like chocolate an coal and ink and night and rimmel when she cries. As choroid squeezing from eyes like lemon juice;... [Lire la suite]
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29 août 2007

Chubby Jane and the swordy lady’s shift.

Chubby Jane knew that ! But she did n’t gave a damn! For this black shift was the sheath of the swordy lady! Don’t picture she needed to rove under a still moon. I mean: in order to outwears her shift. With desire. With desire bursting from guts and climbing up towards lungs and heart. Uttering stupendous yells! Greedy! When the swordy lady feels horny, Chubby Jane says, she looks acute….Knifelike kisses are not so far. Edgy. And the blades of her lips are so sharp while her nipples become... [Lire la suite]
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07 juillet 2007

A post-freudian mellow reel.

Anna, Anna, Anna O Drinks no water, No, no, no, no! Anna, Anna, Anna O ‘Cause she prefers Sipping Stingo! Anna, Anna, Anna O With her Grand Air, She walks so slow! Anna, Anna, Anna O Smoking Players She talks so low Anna, Anna, Anna O Never love her She’s…so and so! Anna, Anna, Anna O She doesn’t care Of what’s up now! Anna, Anna, Anna O And I don’t care Of her sorrow! Anna, Anna, Anna O Drinks no water, No, no, no,... [Lire la suite]
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18 avril 2007

Yolk in the sky

Sun: Yolk in the sky, strong afternoon, let’s be so weird and half past blue! Folks in the streets, nothing to say, alive we’ll be if there’s a way to go away with doors ajar… If you’re alone, I’ll still be too, what a mistake: Being so true! Slugging aside and together! Don’t talk ‘bout love, it’s jail inside and with that muck, no way to go, sticking again on the birth land, woe an woe there, despair and woe… Even on march or on he moon, with love we stay where we belong… Stagnation there and starvation and no,... [Lire la suite]
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15 mars 2007

Thursday’s love.

Well, it was Friday, but a Monday looking one. Exactly as you look like Thursday, but a rainy one. Yes, it was Friday, I remember… Friday all day long. With a sunny morning. Not really like any Thursday you look like, indeed! Somebody whispered something but I did not care! It was Friday. Restless I’ll be if you don’t go. I ‘d really like you to stay, with your Thursday face, lips, eyes, nose… And all and all.  Because I need Thursdays  in my life. Infortunately, they are not enough in weeks…  So, I need you,... [Lire la suite]
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20 février 2007

Bitter baby’s lullaby

Used to be, well. ought to be, maybe… What the hell have I done today?  Things around seem to hum weird songs.  I don’t forget! But why… what else? For I am here, betwixt things and others, long time gone woman in my heart and some evil thoughts…  Feeling draught, smooth, as a pint of bitter. With only one tear in! Just like a baby! A salted droppy  baby in a hop and barley liquid womb! Let’s hear the bitter baby’s lullaby while I drink with laping gurgling noises! And also, thirteen by dozens belch... [Lire la suite]
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14 février 2007

To the night.

Oars to move, great darkness. Mean stars seeking throught humain eyes when looked at. Seeking what? I don’t care.  They want to take something I prefer. I ought to prefer. Above others  objects.You! . I’ll be spreading words like « meanwhile » or « now », « nervertheless »… Shuks!Togetherness’ realm.  Oars : sailing throught this darkness. Getting away’s views Branches are shook. For the wind chills. Nervertheless. I had to love you for the night ordered so. Now. But from my point of view, this is not... [Lire la suite]
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