Category Archives: Bohemia

Why don’t you change

Why don’t you change?
Why do you tread water?

Fuck,

The need must be slaked.
Screw your laziness;
They appear,
Even though it will be my saddlebag;
On the terrace
My flowers embellish.

Fuck,

I don’t know,
Cultivate yourself.
You didn’t understand
That was the purpose?
I have already passed my NEWT ;
You liked the forbidden fruit.

You’re going to coil, coil
Twist, twist!
Do you understand?
Got it, got it.

Why don’t you sing?
Why do you tread water?

Fuck,

You quarrel,
That’s the hiccup.
Change team.
You don’t have your diagnosis.
Me, I’m an Auror
Facing the horror.

Fuck,

It’s rare.
You lose your way,
Already too late.
We break up
Without a fight,
What a defect.

You’re going to coil, coil
Twist, twist!
Do you understand?
Got it, got it.

Why don’t you change?
Here, you’ll never have your place.

Fuck,

There I rise at dawn
To arrive on time.
You have to ignore yourself
Or you have to scent;
Put your piece in the metering,
Satanic worshiper.

Fuck,

Locked on the rail,
In fact, you’re derailing.
I’m not at the conquest of the West.
I’m going to the East. Or is it
dead and in fact
I’m stubborn?

Degenerated Eugenics

On your mark, ready? Go!
Just launched, there’s already one on the finish line.
He didn’t cheat, no,
He just has a better aptitude,
Better qualifications.
It’s posted, it’s affirmed.

If you don’t understand what I’m writing to you,
I hope you will at least be tempted to open a book.
Because to be dead tired is sad, I vomit
When it happens to a person who only knows how to squat.

I just want to “discuss”, they naturally want to “exchange”.
I will never understand their scheduled escape,
Mathematics, they don’t even have a vague idea.
I feel dark
When these people sink;
This creates a tension that tends Zion so much it goes to my head.
You know, will isn’t pure sin,
Even if they have calculated the future in the past.

I crossed the cape, so, frankly,
I bring meaning into your white head.
Do you understand the steep path you have to take?
Knowledge and virtue are watchwords.
This is as true for them as 1 + 1 = 0.
I move forward in time difference to surprise them.
Above, I say more than: “we must hang them”.

When the worst comes up to me, I have a backward movement,
And I stretch because I know we’ll learn it in the ass.
And basically, it’s in the shade that one takes color,
So I abound with positive waves until I cry
Too many times not to give more ideas
And shape the cinema that awaits me within reach.

(This last paragraph was difficult to translate into English as it plays on double meanings in French)

Eternal

How many individuals asked for help in a half-tone,
And how many will insist again through a beautiful lament,
Almost embarrassed to confess that they lose foot,
Though tempting to open their hearts to what suits them.

What affliction when tribulations in the prison point to inaction.
Consolation in reclusion, dismay without cooperation,
At the edge of the basement window, immersion in an immense fairground of perdition;
Ouch! Losing diction.
It’s in the negation of these evils that speech returns.

Who closes his eyes becomes (in)capable of guilt?
There is no choice between culinary art and heartbreak;
Yob, don’t run away from yourself, drived into prostitution under radar;
Be cheeky to cultivate clean air and culminate in heart.

If my words articulate the abstraction of my actions,
And if I hammer them over and over again –
Charming irony of fate –
Perhaps they will land in secret within the concrete
That desmay me, but willingly attract my will
Towards a divine infinity which denatures me in constellation.

Incantare

Attempt to write in front of entertainment
Comes down to foolishly plunge into nothingness,
Because consciousness is altered by a smoke screen
Who reasons with one voice in oneself.

Why want to sow so much terror and confusion,
If not to break the phantasm of an instinctive hope?

Thus, the thought is locked away tirelessly
At the simple request of an artificial idea recreating
A semblance of reality in order to eclipse
The creative ideas that may arise from a sharp mind.

Perhaps it can satisfy an awkward,
And, moreover, make him curse such a shriek,
But the sagacious embraces only fleetingly
Such an enchantment by leaving a trace.

Mirage

I often hear: “If it blow, I go out in the street”
But every morning they leave for the hive.
Soon, it’s “take that and hush,” and
In fact, want more …

There’s no miracle solution if you’re lost in the mirage.
Do you see the cleavages stranded on the shore?
If you’ve failed, it’s weird;
Maybe you’re not a good pirate?

At this moment, the guy on the watchtower sleeps a lot.
He’s drunk, completely crazy;
Dry and strong, especially.
He drags you into a storm without dawdling;
On the pretext of sex, it’s annoying,
But true.

He said releasing the freedom of his chains thanks to progress,
But drunkard, he denies that his task
Is to be condemned to perpetuate legitimate violence.
Feeling the boat pitching, soon he leans, embarrassed,
Paying handsomely bitches and zealous guys
In order to perpetuate the farce, one last day, for pity’s sake!

Crevasse

I’m only White on the outside,
When I throw away all the darkness
With ardor on the scammer,
Simple asylum seeker facing the examiner.
I do it gently to force forces
To shoot the albatross and build the slaughterhouse
Of their values vaguely waltzing
Since the end of childhood; beliefs.

The financial substance is based on resistance or impotence.
If you are too often satisfied by fashion,
You’re most probably ignorant.
At the edge of the crevasse, the pig.
Time passes and pass away,
I don’t know yet if I leave.

There’s no difference,
Whether I shoot or not.
There’s no more innocence.
Whether I shoot or not,
No difference, really
No difference.

What can push you
To this kind of thoughts
If not to be born stillborn?
It’s dreary and I spread the wreck
As a small pirate who makes
A brick wall away from your panic.
Your life swallows you, you’re so seedy.
Oval view, I scream in peace.

Apparently a private residence,
Is security.
Apparently an innate distrust,
Is sectarian.
I perceive everything opposite
To what they say to show us;
“Ministry of Defense”
For our security, did you get it?
What unconsciousness! What decadence!
Where is common sense?

There’s no difference,
Whether I shoot or not.
There’s no more innocence.
Whether I shoot or not,
No difference, really
No difference.

Golden Tower

From the top of her golden tower,
She passively protests against the Golden Order, and
At the edge of the forest, the poor are ringing the bell.
She believes to elaborate a rope, but
She only condemns them to a death without halo.
She perceives herself in their reflections sent back by a mud-water beaten with blows.

In any case, this is what she says to the ignoramuses.
It’s what she exclaims, but she doesn’t spread much energy.
From now on, she’s on her knees.
It’s heartbreaking, and she’s angry against the old fools.
In any case, this is what she explains selfishly.
It’s painful to light down the deaf who are drowning.
It’s more enviable to veil by living in a sneaky way.

Deep down, in her ivory tower, she no longer sees anything.
Did she once perceive
The monster that has made her so affluent?
She decides not to believe it in order not to fall,
And it’s her choice … Yes, is it her choice?
It’s cruel ; But what isn’t?

Her goldsmith adorns her with audacious ornaments,
And she sometimes leans so one could see her cleavage.
Maybe she can then make them take off?
She no longer unload herself toward the call of the forest;
Replace the string with a whip,
Because it’s the price to pay to isolate herself

At the top of her golden tower.

Comply

Since in the city there aren’t many people who cultivate their garden,
I wipe the vile Iliad as a sincere monster who pursues his purpose.
Rebel infantryman of a sad and nameless army who castigates the rascal.
Feline witness of a faded breeze in the shadow, which dazzles the ruler.

When I go outside, it’s always targeted.
I rarely go to places where they want my big banknotes.
Broken ego, terrorize, be oppressed, is beautiful who is.
When I sleep, my body is all crazy, yes it’s
True, nothing soft, you can see my fangs shine.
Equals valued, mold, laughing stock, being high, override, is beautiful who is.

To conform to the norm is to escape from life.
To condemn oneself to death is to get out of it.
Those who formed the standard are all horrible.
This idiot damned to death is even worse.

Otherwise get accustomed. Stop seeing blood clumping;
No more exchanges, to gather.
No longer seize chance, to struggle.
The meaning flows from my nose, I don’t have time to sleep.

Since

Since I’ve been aiming at the sky, I no longer feel very well;
And when I look back, I see the path disappear.
I saw the old monkeys exclaim.
I have no more time to lose with these pious whores.

Since I’ve prayed the sky, I am more serene;
And when my grave will be underground, I think I would have win the Evil.
Know that it’s not sensational without Sartre.
I slap that because they don’t even think in the faculties.

Since I scream in the sky, I’m not going very well.
And when I sink deeper than the earth, I must abandon myself to destiny.
I make myself a reason, the majority of people are too stupid.
Just inaction’s kings, I go away from their prison.

Since I live in the sky, I’m more than good;
A simple look on Earth, and I see the morning escaping.
What must I sacrifice so I may go away?
I saw the Gods laughing for less than that.

Work

I’m working on my forthcoming projects.
What are you doing here away from your master?
You can’t come here if you’re a traitor.
Maybe I can move from here through the window?
What am I doing here besides being?
What are you doing here pretending?

You embarrass me, I don’t
Want your dirt, I don’t
Want your bundles, I don’t
Want your shits.

I want, I want
I want wad
To be able to burn them all;
I don’t want to see the white sirens
Before I can shine.

I go to work without my big projects.
But what are you doing here near your master?
You can’t tumble down here if you’re a traitor.
Maybe I can move from here through the window?
What am I doing here pretending?
What are you doing here pretending?

You’re examining me, I don’t want
Your cyprin, I don’t want
Your son, I don’t want
Your piss.

You’re not old yet but you’re already bent.
Pass me the fire that makes’ em all burn.