To my lover

Rise and shine my morning star, breathe in air and feed on light,
fight the ghosts with found new heart
don’t wait long for I’m not far,
in the valley of despair salt does melt and builds up hope
for the prayers that’d been told the dull dust may turn to gold
and the small steps that you took bring you closer to the truth,
needles and pins are painted green
and the youth that held your soul has evolved to so much more
and these bricks to make up walls went instead to patch up holes
in the houses where it’s cold
in the hands of those who fold…

Rise with mornings in the sun, naked feet to wash out dew
eyes wide open to the deeper blue
and I’ll love you to my bones where the dreams may come to…

Builder of Hopes

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I woke up as one of the many
dusting daily at the lowest floor,
I can read only one book forever
and words are written in gray in this Bible of mine,
the Preacher asked me to rise
stairways are open for steps to take
decisions are heavy anchors in the back,
fear is pouring onto me from a great cup
each moment is closer to regret
hopes are fading like shadows of an axe
and I try to start a fire
to let it burn the world from within…

High hopes are built in stone
none the other shall ever give the tone,
silver and gold, every piece is getting old
and swallowed by the Sea I’m drunk
and in the darkness I first start to see,
I walk towards the sky and do believe
pages rise from ashes like a Phoenix
telling stories I’d never dared to seed
and in the mirror I can see His deeds;
rise and shine my child
let the wind caress the temples I have built
hopes and dreams shall turn the world…

Joy

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…

Gone bad

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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…

Armistice

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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…

Riverside

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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…

Riccardo

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 !

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Milan

La vida es… un carnaval! Prima melodie ce îmi vine în gând avea versurile puțin diferite. Era o idee mai tristă, nu zic, utilă uneori, dar realist vorbind, depresivă.

Sunt la Milano. Am ajuns astăzi la prânz. E vorba de bilete cumpărate de multă vreme, pentru o escapadă inițial prevăzută în doi. Well, shit happens! Cât pe ce să nu vin. E întotdeauna primul instinct – să îmi iau jucăriile și să plec. Ei bine, nu și de data asta. Am mai pierdut concedii pe motive similare. Dar totul are o finalitate. I got the tickets so why not? Ei da, cu riscul de a trimite o undă de supărare pe meleaguri cunoscute… am evadat la Milano!!!

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Discours

Ce soir je me permets rêver…
j’écoute le bat d’horloge de la salle de bains,
immergé dans une chaude vie fluide qui caresse mes limites,
un verre de vin de Saint Émilion,
un témoignage qu’a fait naître un livre,
des brèves messages d’une ancienne copine,
mes pensées prennent du recul,
je me vois dans mon intimité,
ça faisait longtemps que je n’ai pas décidé que pour moi,
je me sens libre,
porteur d’une liberté inviolable…
je suis un homme !
il me restent trois semaines à vivre dans le désert,
du temps qui s’écoule au même temps que ma médiocrité…
je serai un soldat véritable dans peu de temps,
amené à vivre dans l’ombre de grand Broca,
j’ai des oreilles,
des yeux,
les doigts crispés sur une lame prête à couper,
je me transforme,
je redevienne –
on m’a touché la main avec des lèvres noires,
je ne le mérite pas plus que lui,
c’est lui l’héro qui a vaincu,
et moi l’apprentie,
je suis Ses bras et je suis Sa volonté –
un martyr qui sourit !

Blue

I wrote my letters with blue ink, locked the door and shut the blinds,
the last of candles burned down to the bottom of its jar
and worn out pages still rebel from a Bible that we’ve owned,
Steve passed away last night and the floor got cold,
all that’s left to save are laughter and three paintings on a wall…

I’ve been too young, my hands weak and my heart unsteady,
I’ve let the fire wildly spread and wreak our covered beds,
the jury did not charge but ash is all that do remain –
October roads of painful slow, no one knows where they go,
and blue rain starts falling from the diamond skies above…