La mort du petit frère

La mort du petit frère

27 décembre 2011

Un défunt absent qui habita mes pensées

Me fit témoigner d’une bien étrange veillée

La justice aveugle qui dans le noir erre

Se battant le cœur pour la perte de son frère

Fascinée j’observai ce cortège étrange

Cherchant frénétiquement ce mort qui dérange

Hélas ce bon sens demeura évanescent

Et elle comme moi pleurions tant cet absent

D’un délai à l’autre elle prolongea l’agonie

Recherchant en vain le corps fraternel sans vie

Et moi, prise dans cet infernal tourbillon

Assistai impuissante à ce double abandon

Des larmes versées durant cette nuit funeste

Il ne resta que les traces d’un droit indigeste

Le jour blanc succéda à une nuit de pâleur

On étouffe aussi les plus grandes douleurs

La justice éplorée sans son frère ni sa canne

Explore à tâtons un monde où elle se damne

Car ses vieux doigts et son cerveau peu intuitifs

Ne lui laissent de clarté que des instants furtifs

Le glas sonnant accomplira donc son règne

Entraînant mon cœur qui d’autrefois ne saigne

Comme un tapis de neige qui habille l’hiver

Le froid silence étreint mon cœur en dévers

Le silence qui épouse mon cœur tel un carcan

N’entend plus ni les voix ni le souffle d’antan

Il est des jours sombres où ni le bruit ni la joie

Ne peuvent pénétrer un monde sans foi ni loi


Through blood and tears

Through blood and tears

17 May 2011

Through the light of hope I kept

Darkness in my dreams had crept

Slowly gaining in on me as I slept

Two tears, a heart of blood I wept

With bloodied sight I pause to gaze

At webs of spiders turned a maze

A turn of mind left to spin in haze

With reeling heart my eye did glaze

And as I watch my face lily white

With gaunt cheeks and lips tight

I recover from this ghastly sight

And slink back into an eerie night

I talk no more turned silent stone

A tongue for them I still will hone

And acid bite for those that shone

Heart and soul would not condone

Lamia to tease

12 February 2011

Lamia to tease


To heights of otherworldly

On a scorched knee I kneel

Of fracture I show this heel

That mine only flaw worldly


Quintessential of me coldly

Reaches to where I still feel

And delving in I would reel

From kneading me so boldly


Solitude reaches for passion

Lamia I stood by Her a crime

Against a mother mere mime

Of forgotten love a sensation


Of worldly leisure spates ease

Am I misanthropist to tease?

Shall I tell you?

Shall I tell you ?

14 January 2011

Shall I tell you now how it felt

With wasted robes clinging

On a body that would melt

With a sinister chest singing?


Shall I tell you now how I dealt

With those echoes once ringing

Of bodies yonder that had smelt

Summer scents winds bringing?


Shall I tell you now how I knelt

In solemn faith yet again praying

While the stones on me did pelt

The other cheek goes the saying?


Shall I tell you now how I tried

To adapt to a world so changing

With a bosom that much sighed

Of nature’s order one deranging?


Shall I tell you now how I cried

Of a stray, lone, lost fledgling

Like an orphan, infancy denied

A heart multiple beats failing?


Shall I tell you now how I died

From low ugly blow still reeling?

A glimpse in corpse they pried

Open my soul lay all revealing

Point break, the limits of injustice that disappoint

9 November 2010


 Σ ∞

I await that one truly Just at last they will appoint

This justice system with injustice, us it did anoint

My finger is crooked my every member is disjoint

To wait and to point, myself, in vain I disappoint

 Σ ∞

The waiting that stretches beyond breaking point

I am dead sea as arthritis invades my every joint

To injustice and inequity every finger I may point

But wailing and pointing, in vain are, though joint

 Σ ∞

Reading of my poem on youtube

 Σ ∞

 Σ ∞


French justice, a cloak of wear and tear

9 November 2010



Fool I try to catch now what I had let go, haughty mare

Ailments in wailing I cry me a pail so wail as they stare

I go on oblivious to their frowns heeding not their glare

Banshee and ogress I turn, I once little frightened hare


I run in a competition that has no concept left of the fair

My ankles flailing don’t allow me to climb so many a stair

Higher in injustice I rise and oxygen in purity fails my pair

Air I beseech, sweet air, oh I gasp within my hidden lair


I run, reach out but all I reach is nothing but this thin air

I run here, no, wrong place it is there, I cry tear my hair

I seek; know not how to reach within this vile Vanity Fair

Blue white red between grey mirth and such dark despair


Their justice more injustice would once more for us bare

In impunity they carve into their system with such care

Intricate details to make you win any if not all your share

Of misery as they deny you. Fight back? Don’t you dare!





Je cours et ne me rejoins pas

Mon pas n’a de cœur il est las

Mon cœur s’essouffle en âme

Mon âme se meurt en brame

3 novembre 2010


Je demandai au coq de ne me lever le matin

Tint docile son bec, il n’écouta mon chagrin

Grain il picora encore et encore en ma main

Main qui s’affala vide à mes côtes, le destin


Je demandai à la mer de ne se faire de marée

Marée qui n’égare plus mes côtes soulignées

Lignées qui se perdirent en beaux houx taillés

Tailler là entre l’arbre et son écorce, écorcher


Je demandai aux arbres de ne plus se répandre

Pendre haut et court leur senteur de cendres

Cendres d’autrefois qui ne pourraient rendre

Rendre l’âme, rendre tout, ne plus s’éprendre


Je demandai aux fleurs de ne plus s’épancher

Pencher la tête et le dos encore tant courber

Courber l’échine des os de ce dos tant craquer

Craquer encore de noire nuit noire, oui pleurer


Je demandai au vent de n’en plus piper souffle

Souffle au cœur las fourbu vivant en pantoufle

Pantoufle de vair ou cuir de vachette, de buffle

Buffle fait femme androgyne, qui se camoufle


Je demandai au ciel de ne jamais plus suinter

Suinter de tout corps toute substance huilée

Huiler la poêle chaude avant de la frire l’ailée

Aile ou cuisse question délicate, tourmenter


Je demandai au feu de faire qu’il s’embrase

S’embrase le bûcher de sa vanité qui écrase

Ecrase les restes d’une vie morte en phrases

Phrases pour médire ou redire, paraphrases


 Lecture de mon poème sur youtube



Burn witch burn

And the witch burnt, flames crackling in delight

As her ghastly cackles rang wildly through the night

September 17 and October 10, 2010


Stacking, packing, they crowed so, cheered on

Soon this dark Witch would be burnt, be gone

The trial you ask? Village fool a cloak did don

In the land of why not and a time once upon


The men lined up jeering were hardly forlorn

One whistled soft sneers, another blew a horn

The women between two minds seemed torn

A woman gazed intently, nursing a new-born


The wood was there now, it seemed enough

This burning, a chore, would not be so tough

They piled hearth, the smooth and the rough

A fledgling cried silenced by his mother’s cuff


Yet the waif looked on at that tasteless sight

He seemed to find that in her dark was light

Prying open the maternal clutch ever so tight

He approached the pyre so observe he might


Bushes thorny white into her hair had grown

To hold back her arms that eerie glow shone

And while there she stood on the altar alone

The moonlight sparkled on her face of stone


With haggard glazed eyes she gazed around

Hands, helpless, behind her, she was bound

Eyes resting on that cherub’s face so round

She felt less the gnawing of the ruddy hound


And as the fire soared higher, much higher

Lighting up her dark’s doom to their desire

Of the flame she felt not much the bite dire

Her eyes locked on to the eyes that inspire


And so burnt the witch on a day of plenty

An age she counted two twenty and twenty

After she burnt, in the square again empty

The waif looked within where she lay gently


Skipping away, as the sky had turned black

The waif ran home never even looking back

For he held now close tight in his heart rack

A shadow of her vengeance he would stack


Reading of my poem on youtube


Stack the wood, light the fire

St Patrick’s day  

St Jeanne’s way  

11 September 2010  

You took a second look  

A wish that came true  

For in that small book  

The colour was so blue  

Twas a new age Avatar  

In a world full of change  

Living in a coloured Bazaar  

That may a mind derange  

You feel good and I feel blue  

Rhyme in woods for me and you  

And as you will that blue admire  

Some just stack it for their bonfire  

Bring the wood and stuff the hay  

Hasten now your step you crowd  

St Patrick or else St Jeanne’s day  

All fire we’ll cheer clear and loud  

It might be that it’s St Patrick’s day  

They danced and feasted in delight  

For finally they’d have their way  

The witch will burn now in its light 


Reading of a modified version of the poem

Le temps de la famille heureuse

Loïc a heureusement retrouvé cet amour de son frère que la colère et la frustration étaient en train de lui faire passer. C’est un bon garçon et quand on lui parle avec coeur et avec raison au lieu de lui parler avec tyrannie et contrition, il sait écouter et réapprendre les belles choses de la vie. Il l’a toujours été, bon et juste, et l’amour reviendra dans cette famille tel que la plupart de ses membres le souhaitent. A quatre contre un, le choix est vite fait si on utilise le principe utilitariste de Bentham. Mais même dans les concepts absolus, cette liberté et “besoin” paternel ne peut s’exercer à l’exclusion de quatre autres libertés identiques et tout aussi méritantes.