Request Of Phone Line Disconnection

Addiction (s)

I could have become polluter smoking, smoky
my neighbors or my quid chewing. Fearing
above all, lack of cigarettes
Or damn me up for nicorette! In
spitting my lungs, just woke up, I even forgot
use my nose.
Living without smell is the worst scourge
Because I would not know your scent on my skin.

I could have become a drinker, alcoholic, drunken
Whose words are punctuated with "hic".
A mug reddened and a snitch in whipping,
Intoxicated by the sight of a mere "girl".
Sick in the morning to the sight of a glass of water, my whole life
Walking on the deck of a boat! My throat burned as
can neither charm
Neither the joy of tasting the salt of your tears.

I could become addicted cocaine,
me drowning in the dope, mind by "heroic". The head
obsessed with strange adventures
And arms studded with pitting.
Tremblant with my whole being when the lack arrives, I let my body
adrift. Do
controlling anything, or my hands or my eyes, I could
then stroking your hair.

I could immerse myself fully into the music, all ears
filled with heavy rhythms. Obsessed
the Walkman, the headphones glued
My esgourdes traps only syncopated tunes. The saturated volume
causing gangrene,
I'd already deaf or suffering Tinnitus! My bones
hit by these shots of drums
I could not hear your tender words of love.

I could just dump a bulimic
want to play the globe-trotting, an epic approach.
Weaving through deserts, cities and regions
In trying to understand everything, experience everything, observe everything. But
believe the world is more beautiful also
We often miss the happiness.
My eyes in this mess, never could see,
curves of your body when you sleep at night.

I could have so many things I will not,
Full enjoyment of life with you near you.
I chose your love, the finest travel alone because
allowed me to write a few pages of a novel or
the dream gives way to life,
Where reality itself delights me.
And if I have cravings, calls, emotions,
My only addiction, can only be you.

September 2010

Layaway Stores, Toronto

The Hay


the early morning, I like to point the nose to fill my nostrils
this gentle acre
Who announces the summer, pleasure, warmth,
This the smell of just cut hay.

is the time when pearl dew on grass,
When the sun crawls, delaying his survey,
Wishing for any purpose, longer days,
Making of June, the longest of journeys. This odor

wilting tickles my memory.
And I think these boots he had picked up, transported and stored
to quickly protect
By praying all the saints, they are not rain.

At the time, they said: "We'll make hay."
Parents, friends, everyone was there because
to work quickly, we gathered up.
me during my vacation, I gave them the hand. The task

was hard. From morning till night,
Using a fork, we loaded the bales
Pyramid plant placed on trays,
precarious balance was a pebble fall!

Then the wheel mounted on a stable, agrarian
Architecture transmitted from father to son,
Cathedral plant temptress
promise for all the animals confined in the barn.

But now the wheels at home, no longer exist,
Replaced by "balls" thrown at random,
In the meadows, fields, alignment weird
Without harmony, incongruous Carnac !

No need accomplices for carting the bales.
A tractor, trailer, driver and voila.
one person where he had arms.
The work is performed at the radio.

The gigantic columns of stacked balls,
Fortresses of progress that can be seen from afar,
are also symbols of what humans can create for use
profitability.

course that machines have reduced the book
Paying more effective work in the fields.
But the idea of focusing performance
surely we forget the concept of sharing.

And we no longer see, leaving a pile of hay,
Young urchins and sweet damsels, dusting
nose, away from an umbrella,
After spending a sweet moment rascal!

And these wheels collapsed at the end of winter,
Were hiding places for kids dreamed.
turns castle or mountain collapsed
To be adventurers or play war games.

If there are street kids, I'm a kid from the fields.
And the technicality does not erase any odors
From working the land, nor especially the colors,
Evidence of eternal recurrence time.

And if I have the chance, I will scamper,
Maybe a fine deer or more simply,
A rabbit running zigzag,
Around these menhirs scattered plants!

September 2010

Scaly Scalp On A Two Year Old

"The Satyricon", illustrated by Georges Lepape (1941)

Further to the last post, today I present another edition of Ad Satyricon. George Lepape, fashion designer, poster designer and engraver of the 1930s, famous for its fashion designs and covers Vogue, has taken on the task of illustrating the Satyricon. That is a book published in 1941, containing 10 engraved plates, colored stencil.

I missed earlier that none of the illustrators Satyricon has, to my knowledge, highlighted the homosexual dimension of the book, sometimes even deny it. Recognize that George Lepape nevertheless we managed to eat some pretty boys. The frontispiece (above) is a good summary of love (a little possessive, shown) of Encolpius for Giton and struggle which is the object between Encolpius and Ascylte.

Of the 10 planks of the book, I selected a few:

I particularly like this style of drawing , line dry and nervous. The colors, sharp and jagged, give relief and strength to the drawings.

The book is illustrated with several ornamental engravings in the text (banner, sticker, drop cap). The drop cap, which introduces the text allows us to see (with good eyesight, even a magnifying glass) a naked young man. This is the only departure from the rule of decency of the work (rule editor? Of the time?).

Some extracts details of plates:

Encolpius

Giton

A servant of the banquet of Trimalchio

Thumbnail coverage

Description of structure

Petronius Satyricon The

translation of Laurent Tailhade with illustrations by Georges Lepape.

Paris, Emile Chamontin, Publisher, 1941, in-8 (190 x 132 mm), 285 - [2] pp., Numerous engraved vignettes in red text, banner, a reference letter and a cul-de- etched in red light, 10 engraved plates in color in the text, including a frontispiece, illustrated cover of a thumbnail.

Cover

The beginning of the text with the blindfold and the initial

Listing page with thumbnails

Some links

On Georges Lepape:
Biographical essay with a bibliography: Aurorae LIBRI. Record

quite complete in English (click here ) and the Wikipedia page (click here )

On the blog "Sicilian Dreams", these two messages reproduce illustrations much more explicit Satyricon, private use (click here ).

Life Expectancy With 15% Heart Muscle

Ingredients Father Soulé

admit that this summer, I was not a lover, leaving
You wait on tenterhooks.
What is not smart!

You waited, you've marinated
Without an answer to the game of Father Soulé.
This borders on contempt!

Before the angry alter the broth,
And our friendship turns into water pig
What would you moron!

I finally decided to get out of the bath
Mary, who is watching, will thus witness.
Sure, it has a grain!

So here, friends, in conclusion,
The sixteen items, the only solution.
But who said at last?

had to be found:
- Salt (1) and pepper (2) in: "More salt than pepper in ..." (There was too easy!)
- The garlic sausage (3) in: "Every day (...) like a fool, six blasts. A garlic-based ..." (OK, a bit far fetched!)
- Garlic (4) in: "Plays with Knives and sometimes, oh, cuts "
- The tomato paste (5) in:" It focuses and earlier, the result mate (no comment!)
- Sausage (6) in: "He admires, tastes and sauce, hoisted his trial "(obvious, right?)
- Goose fat (7) in:" It is acceptable, must still be ... "(more difficult and perhaps my favorite!)
- The bacon (8) in: "For him, it's art! Smoke neighbors say "(not that difficult!)
- Wine (9) to accompany the meal, in:" (...) It is true that he cooks in vain "
- Water (10) in: "He wanted offer them this gift "
- Thyme (11) in:" He has a sallow complexion ... "(the simplest are sometimes the hardest to find!)
- The pork belly (12) in:". .. and chest pain. Of porridges in lobster ... "(funny, that one, I love!)
- The beans (13) in:" He has more courage, sees his legs trembling "(too easy!)
- The bacon (14) in: "It feels small, dirty and would stop" (this one I like!)
- Laurel (15) in: "He never gird his crown of laurels "(It was a gift!)
- Onions (16) in:" And even if everything farts, it is not his onions! "

I have a thought for all those who have fallen into the trap of flour, in:" Achieving the Absolute, the lighthouse does not exist ".

And Veronique, who was the fastest (and only!) to give all the ingredients.
Finally, thank you all for your participation.

How Long Does It Take To Get Results For Stds

"Hey ho! Already three months that you have written anything!
Think you leave the bench and then your bed!
Do you know about your blog you have some friends
Who would, hopefully, share your writings?

- Who's "ki" is causing this? A ghost in livery
Or more simply awoke my conscience?
I hardly worked this summer, I admit
And I do not know why I stayed silent.
Am I suffered the spleen of the tormented poet
Watching, stupefied, his pen to dry out?

- Do not talk nonsense, stop this nonsense
Or your head will become a big pot of gelly!
Tape on your keyboard, click your mouse
Put yourself to the task, the holidays are over!

- No, but little voice, you annoy me nose.
was a metaphor, I think you know!
I write what I want, freely
While blackness disturb my thoughts.

- Ah! I think not! Here you go again:
You want us to believe that you are worried,
Fears about the future, a future prohibited.
What our society, playing our asphyxia
Makes the creation, too, ran away!

- Is that inspiration can also fly,
Like the swallows, once last summer?
is true that the cursor blinks constantly,
top of the blank page, starting to get tired.
It is time to get started, stop pondering,
To believe that my stories have no interest. In this
unruly world where some live land
Locked in their bubble, feeling abroad
Even their neighbors, even refusing to love
We owe it to everyone, try to bring
A little good mood or a discreet smile.
And even if my lyrics sometimes seem light
They have only one merit, simply exist.
So too bad for you, but I'll keep trying to lay
texts verse
Who will, I hope, please you, amaze you, and then move
You sometimes make you groan.
As for the small voice, she goes into hiding
Until next time, if I dragged their feet
To give you a word. Because you never know ....

September 2010