Category Archives: Political philosophy

Hypnic jerk

From the morning, sidereal revolution;
The Evil One wants to break my ideal.
Visceral reaction, abyssal thoughts.
I dress dirty after the initial error.
Outside it’s medieval: only vassals
Who believe to aim high … idiots!

I hurt for all the marginal people
Who are struggling against imperial rascals.
There, nothing impeccable, lethal cocktail;
The fatal hour is so brutal.
Martial law, icy heart.
I inhale, and I don’t care, paradoxical …

The opprobrium commands disguised dignity
For the men to condone calamity.
While they are lying, I isolate myself and I sacrifice myself.
I scribble for those who are unreasonable.
My task detonates and causes irreversible damage.
It is tangible and credible, though abstract and painful.

Unpredictable, I am unable to abandon the inaudible scream.
Liable to the Bastille, because harmful to the Invisible.
All are corruptible, because they are too insensible.
They want to silence the middle finger in the air,
Stalkers of an egalitarian world that brood under the ashes.
It’s deceptively. Tired of waiting, and now I have to learn to go down.

Individualism

You really think you’re different?
Hey? No, but … really?

Beautiful creatures are too fragile
For this world, it’s filthy;
It is unnameable, but probable
That you prefer the accountant.
Falls without the sling;
Blood – thoroughly; feel the affront
(In your grave); On the ceiling, I take the reach.

I’m Sibylle, I rejoice;
You’re not playing anymore, my guts dry you ah!
Every day I get better
Without touching gold;
I corroborate and I perforate …
Even: I perform.

Outside, deteriorate my love
With prejudice and hatred;
I have to do what they say
Or I shall never leave the asylum;
You’re a real factor, you can’t
See my value; you are old,
It’s the game, you’re pious, it’s time
Since you’re scared, you’re efflorescing me.

But I know you have something
Good and beautiful hidden inside you …
As I know I have something
Dark and warm in me …
(We’re made for each other)
Go around and don’t hide forever

Or you will end up drunk in a box;
Work your faults and forces
In the bowels, between the shocks,
SEE:
The blue pill turns red [BECOME]
The red flag is blue [It’s shady]
But the black is white [Good]
Since the White is Black.

Photo © Jean Fraipont

The field of possibilities

I walk into the field of possibilities.
In me, I perceive it, this choice;
On the sidelines, I rage,
If I think, She sees me.

Deaf, I listen:
Suddenly, it’s like it
Compress red currants.
Soon, the machine forces me to run.
Quick, help, cover!
If I dive, it’s all green.
She crushes me, and she will drink me;
She feeds on our flesh,

Even before school age.
Premeditated crime of lese-individuality;
Programmed unwinding,
Instruments of oppression and authority.
Taste my provocative exorbitancy,
Fruit of a deep scar
Which never ceases to open.

Please, criticizes the original cry
For capital’s prostitution
Aiming to organize your thought, substitute.
Adaptation to the system alienation;
Me not in line with their education.
I expect the worst and
I wait in the void.

I must escape from the barracks.
Before I get in,
I’m mothering me.
Adult does not mean Man, asshole.
Clapping,
See you, kiss.

Candide

All was well until nineteen-ninety-six;
Sacrifice to the glory of Lord,
I accomplish by choice this ritual;
Join the Order of the Phoenix
Before the fall of Voldemort;
I have to kill and steal gold.
Forced to be what I am,
I execute the prophecy.

In the opaque clouds, traveling castle;
Insulting silently, signing without decency.
Dementia facing the opulence of its imminences,
Preference for intelligence and resilience.
They do not crack down in these lines;
As a disciple, anticipates and
Amplifies without cyprin, spreads the pact
As a philosopher without school, as a frivolous emancipator.

Willingness to know which ends up in “wanting”,
Not in “having”, clean your bib;
Can you claim to be free? Exhilaration,
In the cenacle, I refuse fiction and artifices.
Rectify, your free will is paid for the  show son.
No illumination on the present situation;
So I present: binary reports,
Jelly of creatures produced to reproduce
Avoiding to open up to the other way.
The other guy lies a lot.

Fuck the court of simulacra;
Jab, ignorant educated with care;
Make the hustler without yielding to the dominant as an
Obsolete educated in front of the whores;
False promises, they grow fat;
We bury ourselves, we enlighten ourselves;
We stretch out, we go out:
Our destiny rubs off Evil.
You’re the master’s vibromasseur,
You disgust me, you touch me slightly …

Correspondence without the nuances of the mask,
Birth in the violence of fast.

 

Ne-gactivity

I’m crusing the sky as you pound the earth.
In this life, stuck in the purgatory
I will not be deceived by these dogs of hell any more.
Locked, enferred, pigheaded, in the lead and
In search of lost illusion,
At the edge of nothingness, I no longer waste my time
With these disbelievers, or these guys too slow;
Everyone thinks himself intelligent; but how many really are?

Who am I to judge trivialized mediocrity,
Calamities we should just knock down , that is the idea.
I reiterate, bitter insolence.
I prefer the sea and silence
To that shit they’re throwing at us.
I need to hide, I have only the plan;
Not there to be in the place of the dead;
Cut the transistor, take your rise.

Stop making you strong, stop making you proud.
We must not do so, no, you must not do so.
(X2)

I descend into the bowels of hell
Hurting me, am I proud of it?
I lose my landmarks, but I rejoice;
This malaise allows me to be, it’s true.
I’m pale, but not an alcoholic.
Damn, everything’s going too fast;
I lost the instructions, you will remain novice,
Simple allegory facing our ennobled lives.

Humble, I climb the steps without looking at these douchebags.
I started my tank, I come to burst your skulls.
I use my brain, while they serve you
Pretty cups and operate your soul.
I throw this opera into the flames.
You gaze our renegades, go push yourself in the algae.
Fishing net for those who pierce the arcane;
Deviate from the alley or cooperate, fuck I have to remain calm.

They only think to avoid it,
You only think to skimp
I only think about levitating
Let them look at my ideas
(X2)

 

Lost Innocence

No time, no money,
No plan, no time,
No money, no plan.

Just the room, some talent,
Some quiet when – I stretch white.

The slow guy – is agreeing,
But gone, not here.
The heavy guy – is everywhere,
But polite, enlarged.

Overwhelming, overwhelmed.
At table, and lie …
I relish, they disgust me.
Accelerate, or worship.
Wherever you are, he will have you,
The nightmare. It’s stupid,
We know it, we conceive it.
We’ll say: “we’ll see.”

Artistic purpose

Maybe I should do it for money,
I would have plenty of time to do art …
I’m hungry, it’s already too late!
I impede power, I defy power …

Rigorous work against the silent mafia;
No limit to my reality,
Lying under an apple tree, I wait for the idea.
And they say to themselves: “but why
Is he going in the opposite direction? ”

I don’t want to play anymore, I don’t have foot.
Continue stammering, waiting
The bullet, foraging.
I defy everyday life,
I close it when you sing.
No! No anarchism,
Here we are in nanard-chy;
I don’t want this limited role any longer,
So open to me the doors of the Elysee
To dismiss the whole army.

Bind constantly throughout the year,
But propaganda will never cease to exist,
So you will continue to dream of beauty
And to respond to authority.
Do I have to use their methods?
Model my personality to enter their codes?
No, I dodge and
I explain to you my solid soliloquy.
It’s my turn to distract you with a little mystery,
While they exaggerate the great popular tendencies.

You must accept it, don’t trust it.
Standardize thought without a limited budget.
Designed to meet market demands
That doesn’t risk stimulating new ways of thinking.

Then art for art,
Or art for money?
I start, I’m afraid of getting tired
And to have to put the bundles together.
Already certain of the conversion,
I had to end the conversation.

Lost Smile

The naive smile of the child that expand fascinates me;
Vague memory of a sleeping future that stretches and goes out.
This heart caught off guard, who is ashamed, who counts;
Months, years to pass; It only remains to make the laying.
To caress illusory hope, before finally falling.
Why not try to revive the fire, if he’s affected?
Play fair game, yield to confessions, commit without farewell.
Who knew how to plant and supplant this bitter magisterium?

Should we guide this innocent man over the dead road?
Should we create the evidence of the existence I report?
Bloody reality that the ink can’t sufficiently blacken.
In my imagination, I thought he was pale at the only sketch of vice,
While he laughed with desire, detached from the sleeping society
Which dictate the staging and launch his hatred.

Breathing

Tears can’t stain this incurable pain.
Tucked in the shadow, ready to bustle, inexhaustible.
Difficult is the access to the right path, surrounded by these lost lackeys.
Without wings, I will fly away anyway, even if they sadden me and clutch my feets to prevent me from climbing.

So much pain for this little heart that chokes,
But doesn’t breathe a word about it.

I cursed their weakness by remaining calm, by discipline.
They become vile, as they are servile in these big cities.
This poison, my medication, acts like a fortifier, far too wary
I can’t obey their destiny marked with red iron.

Silent cry that no longer moves the packs; (I must move!)
The lost masses slide and undergo; (I pull on the mask).
Incapables incapable of not grabing the palpable; (I’m ready!)
My greatness is only equal to the blackness of my ills; (memorize).
My words, laughingstock, but cunning; Under a dim light, you’ve bet,
You loose, you’re lost, you can no longer, you want more!

The wise man confronts the ape man;
Freedom, a conquest that is sought away from honors.
For some, a simple market value
That they exchange against the acceptance of legitimated inequalities.

Become the accomplice, remain novice.
Rotten for nothing, hope nothing
Can disrupt your prison
Of vices, no mission.

Dear to the codes of a culture that don’t seek cloned clowns,
What if I finish like George Clooney?
All these humans seem possessed by the Stockholm Syndrome
While I take myself for Sherlock Holmes.

Unfortunately too complex for the perplexed idiots,
They will see me as a crazy without complex
Completely disconnected from their reality,
Shaped for so many years.

Glory to advanced capitalism.

Hidden From the Masses

Completely invisible, I invite a fool to speak in my stead.
I don’t belong here, I aim the after.
After all, that’s all I can do:
Share my ideas in invitations made by harmful factories.

At night everything is more readable;
The illegal dominates right away,
You understand the game well,
But you can’t make the dominoes fall.

The intellectual abdication is such that reading a book is difficult, almost impossible!
The past is erased, the erasure forgotten, and the lie becomes truth.
The most domesticated have hooked an animal to a leash;
Under the collar, they abandon their forgotten frustrations.

Those who don’t know that they don’t know are venturing into the eye of the cyclone,
From a distance, bloated clones of pride.

Thus, my singularity is confirmed and asserted.
I waver and oscillate between the bourgeois ogre and the poor of the proletariat,
Without ever forgiving these two scoundrels.
And in the shadows, my destiny is fulfilled without being robbed of my innate identity.