Thursday, September 29, 2011
Abdel Karim Kassem Arnaout & Munir Mezyed
وفاءمنا لكلمة الشرف والعهد .
صوت الأرناؤوط العالمى للثقافه والفنون يهدى أتفاقه مع الأديب والشاعر الكونى
منير مزيد لطباعة مجلد الأعمال الشعريه الكاملة
حديقه الشعر اللازوردى , يهديه إلى الأستاذ والمفكر والمبدع الكوسوفى
( فخرالدين شيخو ) .
وهو بمثابة الأب الروحى لصوت الأرناؤوط العالمى للثقافه والفنون
بأسم مجلس الأداره نجدد العهد والوفاء راجين للجميع دوام العزه والرفعه .
وفي هذه المناسبة نود التأكيد أيضا على دعمنا المطلق للشاعر والأديب الفلسطيني
منير مزيد لنيل جائزة نوبل للآداب , أسهاماً وتقديراً لما قدمه للثقافه العربيه
والأنسانيه .
عاشت الثقافه , عاشت فلسطين , عاشت الأنسانيه , دام الأبداع والحب
والجمال والسلام ..
رئيس مجلس اداره صوت الأرناؤوط العالمى للثقافه والفنون
عبد الكريم قاسم الأرناؤوط
--------------------------
As a word of honor and dignity, Sawt Arnaout International for Culture and
Arts, dedicates the agreement with the cosmic poet Munir Mezyed (printing his
book: "Garden of the Azury Poetry"), to the spiritual father of Sawt
Arnaout, the Kosovan, creative thinker and poet Faherdin shehu.
And on behalf of the board of directors, we renew our code of honor and
commitment, wishing all the best.
We seize this opportunity to ascertain our full support for the poet Munir
Mezyed to receive the Noble prize in literature, for his diligent efforts for
the sublimation of the Arab culture and humanity as well.
Long-live Culture, Arts and Wisdom,
Long-live Palestine,
Long-live Humanity,
May Eternity be held to Creativity, Love, Beauty, and Peace…!!
To Eternity and a Day More
Head of Board of Directors of Sawt Arnaout International for Culture and Arts:
Abdelkarim Kassem AlArnaout
Munir Mezyed
Good day my dear brother Abdelkarim Kassem Alarnaout ... Greeting from Romania .. The land who hosted the Palestinian Poet Munir Mezyed after he was forced to leave Jordan .. Good day to all the team of Sawt Arnaout for International Culture
Art and who is working hard to prompt culture of peace and dialogue between different cultures in order to create a better standing ... I am Honored by your support ... I have been working hard for the past 20 years, writing, translating and doing as much as I can with 3 messages in my mind:
Art and who is working hard to prompt culture of peace and dialogue between different cultures in order to create a better standing ... I am Honored by your support ... I have been working hard for the past 20 years, writing, translating and doing as much as I can with 3 messages in my mind:
(one) Promoting Culture Archive to the west so they can see how rich our culture and above all we are not terrorists but we are sons of an old and rich civilization that brought so much light for the world ....
2) Building bridges between the west and the east to bring together people from different cultures to foster understanding which would lead to Friendships, as this is a necessity due to circumstances, changing international, and as a result of what is really happening in this world. Therefore, we must learn to communicate with each other and put an end to the false images we tend to have about other cultures.
(3) I am a Palestinian who was expelled from his native Palestinian land but this can bring light, joy, and peace to the world ... My message to them is very clear: "I will not fight hate with hate but with the tools of love and art" .. Sadly, during all these years of struggle, no one in the Muslim or the Arab would was willing to help me ... in fact they were implanting thorns in my way, trying by all means to stop me or to put me in shadow ..Not for any reason but due to envy and corruption ... But the Arab and Muslim world is not one face, we still have people who honor and appreciate the hard work like Sawt Arnaout International for Culture and Art who stretches its hand to help me by printing my complete work ... So I thank you for you generosity and for all your support and for every thing you do for me ..
Special thank, love and respect to our great poet and the Kosovan Thinker Faherdin Shehu brother for his help and support ... God bless you all .. Munir Mezyed ..... .... Romania !!!! ..........................
Vertigo
Sophia came; furled with a light that bared all colors
burning all passions desires and heart maladies
taking away the Human miracle;
the one calls it perpetual ignorance
a God's mistake; the one that sees his face
in the mirror and finds the only friend
The avarice of destiny never created the abyss
that shall swallow all dreams and hopes; and
the avarice of wisdom otherwise created Vertigo
in the soil full
of all kinds of manifestations on
the electromagnetic stripe
to be visible as slides of the past moments and
never got a lesson
the spring was in charm
I was in it for a blast of the moment and
this...never made a difference
Launch of book "The fate of Kosovo", September 2011, Tehran
Vahid Parasttash- Iran
http://www.hamshahrionline.ir/news-146938.aspx
Books> Chapavl - Hmshhryanlayn:
the fate of Kosovo, attended the unveiling ceremony of the book, scholars of Islamic awakening in the hotel's meeting was held on the sidelines Kvzvvyy.
Tash-fashioned in this meeting, the author, Sinan, director of the Institute of Sound Pryzrn Kosovo; Shyhv, a prominent writer and poet Kvzvvyy, Fvsha, managing director of radio and television network and the doctor Ismaili Bsay Kosovo, Albanian-born professor at the seminary in Skopje he objected to his views on Kosovo's independence began.
The author noted, with more than 90 percent of Kosovo's population is Muslim, said some of the Muslim world, deepening the relationship between ethnic Albanian and Muslim nation of Iran, has a long and old poets like Naim Frashry show the depth of the spiritual relationship between the two nations Yes.
وی انتشار کتاب سرنوشت کوزوو را با حمایت های موسسه بالکان معاصر، اقدامی شایسته و ضروری در دوره کنونی ارزیابی و گفت؛ متاسفانه بعد از استقلال کوزوو، شاهد انتشار کتابی در این خصوص در کشور نبودیم و امیدورایم این کتاب بتواند تا حدود زیادی به سوالات مطرح The phenomenon of Kosovo's independence to respond.
Recently updated and the views of opponents and proponents of Kosovo's independence from political and legal dimensions of the features of this book is.
Chapters of this book, first chapter, introducing the Balkans and Kosovo, the second season, the fate of Kosovo from the perspective of international law, Chapter III, the fate of Kosovo in the International Court of Justice, Chapter Four, the fate of Kosovo in international organizations, Chapter V; events affecting the fate of Kosovo, Chapter VI, the fate of Kosovo's recognition in the international system, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight major powers and the fate of Kosovo, summary and conclusions.
the fate of Kosovo, attended the unveiling ceremony of the book, scholars of Islamic awakening in the hotel's meeting was held on the sidelines Kvzvvyy.
Tash-fashioned in this meeting, the author, Sinan, director of the Institute of Sound Pryzrn Kosovo; Shyhv, a prominent writer and poet Kvzvvyy, Fvsha, managing director of radio and television network and the doctor Ismaili Bsay Kosovo, Albanian-born professor at the seminary in Skopje he objected to his views on Kosovo's independence began.
The author noted, with more than 90 percent of Kosovo's population is Muslim, said some of the Muslim world, deepening the relationship between ethnic Albanian and Muslim nation of Iran, has a long and old poets like Naim Frashry show the depth of the spiritual relationship between the two nations Yes.
وی انتشار کتاب سرنوشت کوزوو را با حمایت های موسسه بالکان معاصر، اقدامی شایسته و ضروری در دوره کنونی ارزیابی و گفت؛ متاسفانه بعد از استقلال کوزوو، شاهد انتشار کتابی در این خصوص در کشور نبودیم و امیدورایم این کتاب بتواند تا حدود زیادی به سوالات مطرح The phenomenon of Kosovo's independence to respond.
Recently updated and the views of opponents and proponents of Kosovo's independence from political and legal dimensions of the features of this book is.
Chapters of this book, first chapter, introducing the Balkans and Kosovo, the second season, the fate of Kosovo from the perspective of international law, Chapter III, the fate of Kosovo in the International Court of Justice, Chapter Four, the fate of Kosovo in international organizations, Chapter V; events affecting the fate of Kosovo, Chapter VI, the fate of Kosovo's recognition in the international system, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight major powers and the fate of Kosovo, summary and conclusions.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Gustav Meyrink
THE GOLEM
Gustav Meyrink
(Tartarus Press 2004)
Reviewed by Mario Guslandi
(Tartarus Press 2004)
Reviewed by Mario Guslandi
Golem is a word employed in the jewish tradition to indicate an artificial creature, imbued with life through Cabbalistic magic or God’s intervention. In Hebrew it means “shapeless mass”and, according to the Talmud, Adam was considered a “golem” ( a body without soul) for the first twelve hours of his existence. The most famous legend of the golem is linked to rabbi Judah Loew who is said to have created a golem out of clay to protect the Jews community of the Prague ghetto during the sixteenth century. The Golem legend has inspired countless artists, writers such as Gustav Meyrink, Isaaac Bashevis Singer , Avram Davidson and film directors as Paul Wegener. In 1915 Gustav Meyrink, a friend of Kafka, published a successful novel by the same title, loosely inspired to the story of rabbi Loew’s creature. Contrary to a diffuse belief, the famous Wegener’s movie released in 1920 was not a rendition of Meyrink’s book, but was directly connected with the legend of the clay creature moulded by the rabbi..................
DRAGAN MALEŠEVIĆ TAPI
Dragan Malesevic Tapi was born in Belgrade in 1949. In his early youth, he started painting as an autodidact. His painting career began when he was seven years old, in the lobby of the building located at 4 Hilandarska street in Belgrade. He copied the comic ``Three Imps``, which his father, a journalist, used to bring him from the ``Politika`` press, before the comic would appear in newsstands. Tickets for his first independent ``exhibition``, which took place at the entrance of his house building, cost five dinars for children and ten dinars for adults. In 1985 his works, together with the works of Mica Popovic and Olja Ivanjicki, were shown in public, at a group exhibition in Rovinj, where he continued to exhibit his works for the next five years.
The crucial moment for his painting career was the sale of some of his first paintings in the Prijeko Gallery - Dubrovnik in 1987. Tapi's first painting was sold to a German tourist for 8,000 Deutschmarks, although the artist at first asked 50,000 dollars for it. From that point forward, he aligned his life with his talent. After only two years, the magazine ``Art News`` would include him among the seven best hyperrealists in the world.[1]
In the 80's and 90's of last century his paintings engrossed great media attention,[2] and that was followed by numerous independent and group exhibitions across his homeland and abroad: United States, Cuba, Belgium, France, United Kingdom, Germany, Switzerland, Greece,Cyprus, Bulgaria, Croatia, Montenegro, Macedonia, Russia, China, Japan… Tapi's paintings are in numerous private collections, like the one of former president and state secretary of the United States George H.W. Bush and Henry Kissinger, departed Prime minister of JapanKakuei Tanaka, and many other public figures across the world, but also in public collections, including the White House collection.[3] In 2000 the U.S. state of Georgia proclaimed Dragan Malesevic Tapi as an Honorary Georgia Citizen. Unfortunately for the world of painting and admirers of fine arts, the sudden and early death of the artist in 2002 prevented him from exhibiting already arranged exhibitions in museums and galleries such as the Peggy Guggenheim Museum.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Author India
POETRY
HOME :: September 22, 2011
Under the Peach Tree
Fahredin Shehu
Heaven tore apart
Heart bore rainbow
Soul firms the crystalline
Today lasts the bliss
Amaranthine blooms tomorrow
We awoke dormant hopes
We evoke celestial siblings
We summon uninhabited spirits
Under the Peach tree shade
Sybil plays the lyre and
The strings made of golden hairs
The goat fleece shines
Mild melody ceases every pain
For those who sing and
For those who sing not; equally
For those who hear and have
No flu; enjoying the Jasmine odor
Lavender and Iris embracing
The assembly; under the shade of
The peach tree; collecting
The drops of Beauty;
Tears of eternity in goblets
Made of Amethyst and
The Platinum lid
To seal the liqueur
For the next platoon of Love martyrs
It may be you dear it may be you
And you and you; who drink
This Elixir
All I expect is you open
The bud of your being
So I may put a solely drop
So the clear light of Bliss
Overwhelms and folds
Your innocence; protects it
From the sinner, and
Its permanent malice
http://www.authorindia.com/poetry/under.html
The womb of art
It appears that I’m back,
several centuries;
to realize why Farsi poets had such a passion.
It seems I’m here to once again taste
that flavor; where mundane and
divine are delicately spreading; the nuances
as in Isfahan carpets.
It looks like the tune is sending me
as time machine back to the birth of secret
of nightingale to a rose; manifests
at the blast of the moment
It tells that I must come again,
to pass the bridge 33; the resemblance
of Kinvat.
It seems I have word no more,
to compare “Here” and “There”, and
finally got muttered.
Hotel Abbasi
19. 09. 2011.
Isfahan, Iran
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Le reti Di Dedalus CHECKPOINT POETRY
Anno VI - Estate 2011
FAHREDIN SHEHU
Le mie piogge e i miei venti
Ventosa polvere di stelle
Auguri completamente dispersi
Tu aspetti
Il sacrificio del piccione;
bianco come neon
Lei vola sopra la nostra testa
Costruisce il nido
Per la progenie della Libertà
Ti bacio nel punto
Dove la stella ha sigillato
La pelle avvolta
Per vedere l’invisibile
Il tuo vestito
Un abito pesante
Broccato in oro e platino
Mussola intrecciata con damasco
Dappertutto
Sprigiona profumo di Oud (1)
E infonde una calda brezza orientale
Nel mio corpo occidentale
Vittima della Croce
Qualcuno vuole
Che prevalga la pace nel nostro regno
Qualcuno vuole leggere i miei scritti
Proprio come essi desiderano leggerli
Un qualcosa che vola con leggerezza
Terre davanti alle spiagge
Noi divertiti e sconcertati
Nel sopportare i passati esteriori
Siamo
Silenziosi come una pietra
Eretta nella Terra di mezzo
Ogni tipo di spezie e di specie
Anche anche di pezzi e di fette (2)
Originali e mescolati
Parola per parola
Con infinita gratitudine
Calici di ambrosia
Beviamo in nome del Supremo
Stasera piogge e venti si sono calmati.
(Traduzione di Mario Rigli)
1. L’Oud è uno strumento a corde orientale. Una leggenda araba attribuisce all’oud una storia illustre, che risale alla notte dei tempi, attribuendone l’invenzione a Lamak, nipote di Adamo ed Eva. Secondo gli storici musicali, progenitori dell’oud risalgono all’antico Egitto.
2. Questi due versi: “All kinds of spices and species / Even slices and pieces” per la rima ed il gioco di parole sono di difficile resa in italiano.
Il sorbetto della Divinità
per coloro che ho incontrato
Arbor aveva paura,
Da uno sconosciuto di passaggio
Ho dato da mangiare al canarino mentre
Cantavano all’unisono
Spaventati volarono via
Uno sconosciuto mi si avvicinò
Stavo per svenire
Il terreno cremisi
Fece slittamenti tettonici
Noi abbiamo avuto paura di morire
Essa vive lontano
Eppure lei vive col mio
Respiro e la mia anima
Si irradia nel suo spirito
Essa ricorda il giglio
Che ho portato dal giardino
Della certezza, e
Le rose di un bianco brillante
I mi do come tocco finale
Dove la libertà odora di Amore
La medaglia a due facce
Ha il pentacolo di amore
Nell’abisso della superficie
Ho insegnato sul Kernel del Kernel
Ella ha pregato nel tempio più grande
In sinergia con il suo rotolarsi
La mia guancia ardente, ha fritto
Lacrime di cristallo trasformate in madreperla
Ho evocato Salamandre
Per spegnere il fuoco
Con il fuoco
La coppa cristallina
Del vino, Divina ad obbedire
Alla mia sete
La saggezza si è avvicinata in
Un vecchio stile
La conoscenza urta
La manifestazione di libertà.
L’amore eterna Signora
Ha entusiasmato il filo di platino
Un arazzo di oracolo
Ha fatto
Si è seduta là ...
L’ho percepita là ...
Ho visto là.
Coloro che ho incontrato nel
Regno delle forme appese
Ho visto i suoi occhi di zaffiro scuro
Che tenevano la bellezza Segreta
Il corpo che si attacca
Tutte le stelle cadute e
Il cuore di lei
che è un sarcofago dei
Segreti, degli eletti
La sua voce è la sinfonia
Del grano dorato a foglia
E il silenzio di una Sibilla
L’argomento scritto in
Una fronte
Ne porta la testimonianza
Ciò che il santo grembo porta
I testimoni sono
Due luci
L’Angelo della sinistra e l’angelo
Della spalla destra
Lei riconosce il sigillo dello
Scalpo di un prodigio,
E doppiamente su e giù capovolti
Triangoli
Nel mio plesso
Lei non è Maria
Lei non è Amina
Lei non è Betsabea
Lei è in un cerchio di curiosità
Sono il quadrato della stabilità
Chi si preoccupa della bocca?
Dell’irascibile
L’enigma è impostato Mandala
La rosa bianca del mio essere
Sanguina l’azzurro
Perché Amo eternamente
Come un pieno di Luna
Incurante dei latrati
Per un quanto di un momento
Io disperdo in coloro che ho incontrato
Essi riconoscono a malapena
La quintessenza dell’ “io”
Essi si limitano a ricordare
Occasionalmente
Il profumo della rosa
Anche questo è per me
Un qualcosa che è sufficiente
Posso solo riposare e
Respirare come un bambino
Segnato con il sigillo
Sulla sua fronte
(Traduzione di Pepinno Riso)http://www.retididedalus.it/Archivi/2011/estate/Checkpoint_poetry/1_shehu.htm
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
Maple Tree
North is the site where the wind begotten Love
and transported the whims of the unripe Soul
She bears the name of the Flower from Turkmenistan
which is brought to Europe very late
Lala is my soul mate, a grandma who fall in Love with
the senile sage who dwells in the body of 39 years;
The Theurgist, recently prepared to receive
the Grand Message
the Message of whom comes from above and
stands in the bottom of the purified heart
it stands as role of Tachyon- ic fabric, a sensitive
Love-Knowledge Organza
A mid-layer; a dimension between
Inspiration and Revelation
Under the Maple tree she used to meditate and she
built the pink ray room for the chanting
the Divine names
with the rosary of her Blood -cells.
She mad a maple syrup that leaked from
the Throat to His navel
as honey mixed with Cinnamon in
a Tantric unification of bodies
and became a drop of Divine Mercy
She repeated; don't worry Destiny;
they try even to steal your dreams,
not only words but Destiny I wake up
early at the song of the rooster
for the morning awakening of the nature
and gratitude to Almighty
for bestowing me another day of life;
I repeat each morning your words;
you can't learn poetry; it is God's gift
and it comes only from His Mercy
Thursday, September 08, 2011
Poezitë e mia ne Frëngjisht- My Poems in French
Je pense bruyamment
Pour l’humain
Donnant l’alerte : faire la pause
Et penser la raison et méditer
Pourrions-nous réussir ensemble ?
Oui c’est possible
Et préserver la plénitude de la tuerie de la domination de la transgression des efforts
Nous répandons l’Amour et aspergeons toute peau brûlée
De sa fraîcheur de résine
Jusqu’à ce qu’elle se mêle au sang et
Le remplace
Ainsi le fluide de l’Amour
Circulera dans nos veines
Puis lentement libérera notre parole
Vivra dans le miracle
Changera notre monde
Et plaira à Dieu.
Rayon de miel
Je ne suis pas ici
Pour dire l’orgueil d’un passé oublié
Ni pour chanter miraculeusement
Les sourates et les sutras des Saintes Ecritures
Je ne suis pas ici pour voir des mûres tombées
Dans la rivière et surnageant comme des feuilles mortes
Et je ne suis pas ici pour prier interminablement
Comme un sage pour me repentir
Du péché de banalité d’ignorance
Je suis ici pour baiser le front du ciel
Entre les deux yeux là où
L’étoile doit pétiller de beauté
Je suis ici pour parfumer ton âme
Et me sécher au pollen jaune soleil
Je suis encore ici pour nourrir tes poumons
Avec l’air du monde perdu
Eternellement lavé dans les fleuves de l’âme
Je suis le terreau de ton secret semé
Comme un grain de blé en automne
Attendant le printemps pour verdir les champs
Et l’été d’or pour se parer de coquelicots
Et les vers luisants dans les nuits courtes
Qui dansent des jeux érotiques
Attendant l’automne pour nourrir l’estomac saint
De l’enfant terrible
Qu’à perpétuité on nomme MOI
Le sarcophage de ton secret
Moi perdu... toi, concentré
Dans une formule dissoute pour
Répondre à leurs énigmes.
Hémoglobine bleue
Ils ont taillé deux longueurs d’esprit
Pour les poser sur les corps que nous menons de force
Pour les poser sur les corps que nous menons de force
Le pinacle de la douleur et du cri
Est-il le même pour le mâle et pour la femelle ?
Et androgyne
Comme la vie
Une fois de plus la langue se noue
Et ne peut dire le prix de la vie souffrante
Qui n’a pas de sexe
Comme la vie
Notre hémoglobine est bleue
Car il nous faut dire le chant du paon
Et l’introduire endormi dans les cœurs
Qui n’a pas de sexe
Comme la vie
Larmes de cristal
... Et mes larmes de cristal ont fondu
métamorphosées en liqueur cosmique
afin d’enivrer l’amant d’amour
Blanc
Ame de la nation parallèle des Angéloïdes
L’effort est-il la satisfaction de la vie ?
Elle est vivante
Tisse sans fin avec la lumière divine un arc-en-ciel de mousseline
Une robe entretissée
Etres immaculés nouveaux nés
Parfumant
Oh ces fragrances de paradis
Menthe, Néroli, Mousse-du-Chêne, Ambre
Bouquet de plaisir divin
Et d’Acacia baisé par la reine des abeilles
Oui la reine de l’Ennéagramme
Bien entendu
Le travail produit de suaves essences
Oh Sarmouni de nos Millénaires
Faites fondre la lentille cataractique qu’ils voient la beauté
Guérissez la grippe, qu’ils hument l’ozone frais
Un cercle chargé de lumière et d’amour
Submerge
Dépulpe le roseau
La musique divine pourra-t-elle ainsi jouer avec la lumière ?
Puisse le tao tendre devant toi sa torche
Dans la vallée obscure
que tu puisses voir un spectre
Encerclant une peur d’enfant
Pour la vie éternelle
Pourtant j’embrasse cette séquence du temps
Où cohabitent en harmonie le yin et le yang
Moi Feng Shui de l’Amour
Défragmenteur des fichiers de la haine
Compresseur des matrices obscures
Arrangeur
Afin que tu saches qu’ils existent bel et bien
Que tu y goûtes pour connaître la douceur du miel de la vie
Dans cette vallée de porcelaine
Où la bonté et la malice
Main dans la main glissent furieusement
Hélas le matin pur et la rosée d’amour
Oxyde la haine avec du vinaigre de pomme
Chante pour célébrer les solstices et bois une coupe de vin
Qui te fera défaillir
Et filtre toutes les cellules du cerveau,
Parfume-lui le nombril à l’eau de rose et baise, baise, baise
En un Tantra divin
Avec tous les esprits visibles et à demi visibles
Baise la topaze de ses yeux
Baise le rubis de son cœur
Baise le diamant de son ongle
Baise le cuivre de ses pieds de sa cheville
Baise le jade de ses os
Baise le saphir de ses cellules
Et la cascade enflammée de ses cheveux
Et, plus bas, le soyeux...
Oh baise et baise et baise tout ce qui lui appartient
Fais-lui un collier
De tes spermatozoïdes les plus purs et les plus nobles
Puis donne-lui le nom qu’il te plaira
Sagesse, Hikma, Sophie
Ou simplement la Déesse qui te fait Angéloïde.
Roses blanches
Ouvre mon thorax
Ouvre mon thorax
Si tu veux voir
Le jet tombé tout droit du fleuve du ciel
Le jet tombé tout droit du fleuve du ciel
Tandis qu’il lutte dans son lit
Où nagent les roses blanches
Notre paradis
Ce n’est que maintenant que je comprends l’illusion ancienne
Depuis que je vis dans le cenobium de mes divers moi
Avec toi mon âme est plus à l’aise
Avec toi c’est différent
Car la carte inscrite sur ma peau indique
Un chemin qui nous mène au paradis
Et nous... nous ne rêvons même pas - pourquoi le ferions-nous ?
Quand tu donnes à ma bouche le goût de l’ambre
Tu laves mon vêtement d’émeraude
Avec toi je traverse un macadam de perles géantes
Entre lesquelles pousse l’herbe d’émeraude
Et beaucoup de roses blanches
Qui s’appliquent à garder notre secret ?
Et cela
Bien sûr cela nous suffit
Basmati
Combien de grains ai-je avalés
Portant des messages gravés
Ceux
Que les pigeons blancs n’ont pas pu livrer ?
Des messages portant des codes pour la nouvelle génération
Quelque chose de cuit
Une vapeur blanche évaporée
Odeur de basmati
Mon estomac en boycotte la raison
Il est temps de disperser la léthargie
Il est temps d’aimer
De le faire
Simplement de le faire
Et défaillir
Questions de l’Angéloïde
Ne suis-je qu’une pierre
A jeter loin des yeux ?
Suis-je peau de tigre
Qu’un marchand sans âme piétine?
Suis-je trempé de sang par un proche ?
Suis-je le chef d’une tribu égarée
Qu’il faut adorer comme un saint ?
Suis-je un prophète perdu
Qu’il faut chercher dans les cavernes que le djinn a colonisées ?
Suis-je un fossile du jurassique
A exposer dans un cube de cristal ?
Suis-je une essence de jasmin
A humer après le troisième millénaire ?
Suis-je une planète perdue
La malédiction de l’humanité ?
Suis-je un paradigme de la bonté
Que la reddition réduira ?
Suis-je la parfaite malice
Qu’on accueillera comme un chant d’Evangile ?
Suis-je l’aile de l’ange violet
Qui te fera de l’ombre
Pendant que tu cherches la connaissance ?
Suis-je un air suprasensible
Que jouera la corde savante du cœur ?
Suis-je un esprit aérien
Qui t’apportera l’orage
A midi quand le soleil
Lira son quatrain ?
Suis-je un fluide cosmique
A disperser comme poussière d’étoile ?
Suis-je assez divin
Pour me réjouir d’une humanité cosmique ?
Suis-je la cloche des ailes de l’ange
Qui tintera le début d’une nouvelle prophétie?
Suis-je un saint qui montre à peine son miracle
Pour être ensuite adoré comme un petit dieu ?
Suis-je une eau pure de la source du désert
Qu’il faudra boire au moment de la mort ?
Suis-je la mort de l’Art
Qui renaîtra de la Théurgie ?
Suis-je un amant ivre d’Amour
Qui périra dans les quanta des photons ?
Suis-je bête de révéler une nouvelle découverte
Afin que vous puissiez compatir
Saluer ou louer
Ainsi, ainsi, ainsi de suite ?
Ton cœur
Ton cœur est mon palais
où mon esprit ne rencontre aucune ombre
parcourant tous les recoins
de ton royaume céleste
qu’on nomme liberté
Elixir
Il ne reste qu’une rosée d’élixir au fond de la coupe vide qui dort comme un agneau
On l’appelle parfois cœur, je l’appelle esprit pollué, et tu peux l’appeler grains de grenade rubis
Mais nous, les plus simples, ensemble ne pouvons qu’Aimer et cela suffit
A souffrir mille ans
plus un jour
Celui qui ne s’en soucie pas est le plus chanceux des ignorants mais je suis celui qui déverse sa quintessence sans savoir pour qui
Sans savoir pour quelle raison l’évidence du but n’est jamais visible à l’avance
Avertissement, amour, ou même manifestation la plus pure
A l’époque où les mots s’alignaient sur le fil enroulé dru sur le cuir chevelu
Le collier de vers se ternit aucune brillante vérité ne jaillit de sa source pour obéir à notre soif
Nous les âmes assoiffées de nourritures divines nous errons comme les spectres des suicidés
Estomacs vides d’enfants terribles avides de cette vérité qu’on n’entend jamais même comme un bruit d’insecte
Jamais comme le bruit de la chute de l’esprit de jade gelé qu’on verra plus tard en Galatée de divine essence
Une corne d’abondance de bénédictions latentes attend
Un déficit d’Amour éclate exhibant fièrement son sexe sans la moindre goutte de honte
Comme une abeille ouvrière j’erre, cherchant le nectar de la sagesse afin de nourrir ma Reine
Lui infuser la vie éternelle, la gelée royale qui coule élégamment du cul au nombril
Un temps
Oh…temps de lumière
Mystère saupoudré par
La blancheur des nuages
Je suis le ruisseau
Après l’éveil et l’extase
La blancheur des nuages
Je suis le ruisseau
Après l’éveil et l’extase
Gentil petit Rom
J’ai traversé le pont de pierre, écouté le gargouillis des eaux blanches de la rivière
L’Eglise se dressait fière auprès de la Mosquée reflétant sa beauté comme un miroir
L’eau potable s’écoulant avenante depuis le sommet des collines froides
Entourée des créatures humanoïdes bourdonnantes inconscientes du fardeau qu’elles portent
J’ai approché un mendiant différent de ceux que capture habituellement la chambre obscure de mes yeux
Le garçon buvait un coca et souriait tout heureux à la foule et pourtant dans ses yeux
L’azur tissait une toile pour les amants, humains et célestes,
Comme une araignée à l’affut de sa victime, qui baiserait fièrement l’étoile qu’il portait au front
Le jour était heureux de me trouver là un peu ébaubi par la brise printanière
J’étais heureux d’être là et d’embrasser le petit buveur de coca gentil comme le sont tous les garçons du monde
Anges qui nous préviennent de l’Amour impartial
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