squating as a poetry act

My good friend ?lex has squated a humble house with an i n c r e d i b l e forest for backyard. Most people wouldn’t even come inside such a a junk-garden… but monsieur ?lex it is not most of people. I can totally understand him and his need for poetry/magic/dreams… and though my squatting times seem to be over I feel lucky that I’m still able to share my friend’s poetry. yiiihhHHHAAA!!!!

I leave you in the company of some images and Afrika and ?lex’s words… I did translate them and gave them a liiiittle re_touch 🙂

 
Vodpod videos no longer available.

The rage of a bird that never bites
Which palate’s dry bread is never satisfied.
The pumping blood of a civilization that never forgets
That burns everything, making it prosper,
Doing it shiny by otherness.

 

The silence of waves that glow in a dark room,
The breaking of a joy that has no owner.

 

The resound of a house that doesn’t belongs to its roof,
The looking of an eye that has forgotten to exist
And resumes existence as a dry melody,
Poor, rotten, unable to walk,
Cracked of loving.

 

The breathing of a grief that sliding through the body everything leaves numb,
That colliding into the lungs leaves you lacking a soul
And curiously
Dreams-you with chocolate and nipples made out of salt
Which you forget made you break to mourn
And a piece of you take possession of you

 

We colored the present with garlands so the picture is animated
We break the picture when it is no longer useful
We take comfort when we realize it remains there
Behind the dream’s window,
Behind the epicenter of an added present.

 

It is a door that doesn’t go out of itself,
That doesn’t belie itself because it’s not afraid of its disappearance,
Because its engines do not let it fall asleep.

 

So curious those blades that break the neurons so they can go looking for the nothingness that finds everything.

 

To be helpless we find healthy reasons
That give us the value of a constant suspension.

 
 
 
 
 
 

The feather in the air flies more than your smile
and yet your smile is nurtured by the flight of the bird which dropped that feather.

 
 

… and just for a lighter end

recorded with android free app virtual recorder

 
 

gashô

About m)◘(x

ni! for now
This entry was posted in context, photo, text and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.