Alice dreams
with rays and colored pins,
she’s painting hills and rushing rives
and birds sliding in the still
Alice breaths and lives…
Chords she plays
turn the silence into days,
Alice wakes to joyful ways
portraits of our children that behave…
Alice writes
and Stephan plants the seeds
in the diamond they have built,
autumn leafs
there’s long before the summer leaves…
In a foreign land turning on the radio
wakes me up in ages I thoroughly erased,
a tune I used to paint on icons in the church
playing chords in manners they actually deserve
but crystal readings were never my pretense,
some news were always getting old
people open up the eyes they’ve never seen
and the highway to the altar is desert
the band keeps going, reciting as foretold
poetry and shopping lists for lovers that forgot…
Listening this morning my hands are getting bent
skin is softer and my voice sounds clearer
the present opens doors the past has never had
I’m inclined to build up stairs reaching to the stars,
will you be my lover and I will be your grizzly bear
frightening the tourists when I don’t hibernate
I will take you see the sunrise at that mountain lake,
drinking coffee in the cold you’ll pour a glass of wine
kiss the lips that swear and we shall turn out fine
love me in the storm and I will love you to the end…
I am writing letters to my fans
groupies gathered at the electric fence –
it has been a while
I have missed you Kyle,
on the streets the life is tough
luckily I’ve found a cheap ass pub
fifteen pints for my last pounds,
hey Dolores dance a round
even if there is no tune
I will sing with you tonight
clothes and bother falling down,
and the poetry I wrote
is for the girls I almost loved
all I’ve felt and never told
put on plate to dine upon;
take the books before the burn
chapters noted must be read
pages folded shall be left
in this world there is no end,
cutting skin to look inside
hands are gloved, the spirit cold
I have yet to touch a heart
beating faster than the sun,
and the wall that goes forever
keeps it hidden from the rest
If I ever say those words
hope they trust to carry gold…
One taste,
one step,
doors locked, lights off…
turn off the beast!
I took it in my hand
the whirlwind dance of sin;
open up
perform
cloths fall when you fly high…
Lips are acid
sweat is sugar,
baby is staying young
the darkness is my cougar –
push hard
pull close,
candlelight too bright
love’s on a leash,
kneel and kiss
don’t yell to break the spell,
sink to the bottom
drink once more,
cold water
fresh beer
hot honey,
I put heart not money…
Friday night, half light
drinking wine and playing indie tunes
stories come and dreamers go
I close my eyes and let the true love flow,
the dog makes traces running in the snow
and kids throw echos in the fort they sleep –
and I found Alice…
Half asleep, my angel crying
no one takes me to the Moulin Rouge,
my friends work decent jobs that pay
and in the rush of celebration build a home
to put candles and the fame on Christmas trees,
I beg them to believe
true love needs no sparkling fees…
Starry night, half dark, half bright
my hands run highways in her eyes
I embrace the life of Stephan Angst
and pour rivers to oceans from my soul,
the sinners are forgiven
with paper airplanes never reaching dawn,
Alice called the priest for both…
We sailed together in the hour of our youth
a boat we boarded sharing paddles to the final truth,
the river is narrow but it never ends,
on a bench for two strangers turned into best friends
but the fate is cruel and calls brothers to the war,
in the second that it’s left we must decide
will you love me as I do and will I love you too?
The day has come to part our troubled ways
we dream, we cry, yet everyone shall celebrate,
years behind are words on paper in the rain
and memories will start to fade making place for love,
darling we are stories in the sand, don’t look back;
start walking and pretend the life has joyful ends
and on this day eat cake and forget the face of hate –
It is written in the stars for paths to sometimes cross
if hearts once loved they’re never strangers in the dark
and no library of thoughts contains the mystery you held
but could you understand that stairways often fall
it’s about the people that rules are always meant to break,
write me wishes on a card and burn it in the night
and sail the river south once each year for all my life…
Hey you fool,
what yea doing with that rope?
is it love turned bad,
or is it a simpler way to cope,
dare you not have a stroke…
You can’t can air more than drinking love,
we’re built on blood
and one day each week, I sleep,
in the deep with a whip –
It is how I know I breathe…
A red brick builds a wall
for the gardens south of now,
and there is music,
it paints the colors in white,
on the sky,
in the image of ’89…
One Friday morning chasing cold away,
slightly raining, fast to walk
I had everything I’ve ever dreamed,
love awakes me for my team
soldier for a good cause,
I got a firm handshake as foretold…
Hunting moments on a bed of clouds
lips paint warm hues in the mind,
garden of the kings, waiting for the Queen
we wrote stories dancing on vinyls,
and waiting for a while and hoping wishes
a second train ran her to the south…
Étant toujours à Milan, hier soir j’ai fait une rencontre complètement inattendue. Je n’avais pas vu Riccardo depuis quelques années. Pour être plus exact, depuis son départ de Cochin en avril 2016. J’étais en train d’acheter, un mot en anglais, un mot en italien, de la mozzarella di Bufala dans un marché loin du centre, et cela m’a fait souvenir un des voyages de Riccardo quand, en rentrant à Paris, il nous a amené de la véritable Bufala. C’était un délice culinaire !
Un Jurnal Neverosimil 