Pathetic Poets Anonymous
From PAF with love
Goddess
It’s dark inside
In the cathedral
But I can still see all your muscles
Under your tights.
You used to have the most beautiful body in the world.
They used to bring you flowers as offerings,
Preparing your ritual bath,
Cleaning your pink wig,
Selecting the most expensive jewels for you,
Making you the cover of Vogue,
Frozen princess,
Imprisoned in the loo,
Gently put to sleep, stuffed and placed on a pedestal,
Your panties on show,
Publicly exposed.
Down
You said: Je trouve ça tellement lourd, une vie à porter toute seule
You said: nobody thinks I’m sexy
You took all the chairs of the chapel and turned them upside down
And then you paraded yourself half-naked, one titty on display.
Fable of Dependency
It is not
so easy to make popcorn
When you don’t have a microwave.
It is not
so easy to love Marx
When you were born rich.
But.
Despite me being born rich and
Having given up microwaves
(unhealthy, they say), I feel no
less entitled
To popcorn and Marxism.
I love
life. I hate all the things that stand between me and her.
Like working in an office,
Reporting to a boss,
Playing the bad cop,
Hurting others and getting hurt.
I have
built this Machine out of me.
I have taken the red pill
And started ascending with rocks
on my shoulders
Towards where?!
I wanted to see how deep the
rabbit hole went.
I followed
Joey Starr to the ghetto,
Stepping in his Mercedes Benz,
Pursued by thousands of hysterical
groupies.
He has
aged. And so have I.
They used
to call me LuLu the Decadent Queen.
They used to admire me for my
capacity of saying NO,
I do not agree,
I do not consent,
I do not follow,
You cannot make me change my mind,
I am free – whether you like it of
not.
They used
to thank me for my verticality
– they said – my spinal column
They used to praise me
Before
selling me to the Orthodox court
– like Judas.
Will they all hang themselves with
remorse?
I don’t think so.
You bunch
of pharisees!
I feel
resentment towards the world.
Pathetic resentment.
I feel
feeble. Crushed. Tired. And sad.
Popcorn – I
need popcorn and a Corona –
Best nonalcoholic beer on earth.
I need
salted and crunchy;
And maybe
going to the movies.
The blue
pill. Pleasure. Sedation.
I need …
On dirait un cadavre
Tu étais assis sur un banc et tout d’un coup tu t’es levé,
tu t’es allongé face au sol et tu t’es couvert d’un plaid gris.
On dirait un cadavre
Et pourtant tu respires
Sometimes it’s hard :
Tenir une peau de banane et une télécommande pendant
longtemps fatigue.
Changez !
Still life 1: Shirley @church
Cum … îti misti mâinile … doua degete de la o mâna rup o
pielita de pe un deget de la cealalta …
Cum …
sandalele hawaïene … slapii cu separare la degetul mare … nu te împiedica sa
porti sosete (later edit: they were made for that!)
Cum … apare mirarea pe fata ta … cu colturile gurii cazute …
si totusi … cu o privire calda … si primitoare
Cum … se plimba ochiul mortului pe covorul din altar
Cum … s-au strâns … un rinocer … trei telecomenzi … doua
fiare de calcat vechi si ruginite … un tablou (pe la spate) … niste ochelari de
înot … o valijoara – bucatarie de jucarie … cum pica o fâsie de lumina prin
vitralii deasupra … de-a lungul … pe diagonala … între mine si tine … Shirley
Ça va,
mamie ?
Clair-obscur
The woman
behind the mantelpiece is gloomy.
Why does
she sit there?
Who does
she hide from?
What is she
afraid of?
Flees run
in circle in the chapel.
I don’t
like their music.
It sounds
like corpses to come.
Something
must be wrong.
Or else,
We would be
hearing birds sing more.
The armor
on the mantelpiece is bright.
Investigation
Duct tape
crosses the crime scene:
It’s murder
on the church floor,
Between
MARIA and SAINT ERNESTUS
And SAINT
ALOYSIUS and all
Rainbow
colors and roosters yelling
Outside: COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO
COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO
COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO
Oh, shut
up, you stupid bird!
Let me
enjoy the silence.
Still
life 2: leftovers
On stage
there’s also …
A paper
plane
A clock
Cat litter
“Canaillou”
Some more
used duct tape
Green shoes
Pink shoes
Litter box.
Empty. With spoon.
WC baby
seat reducer. Unused.
An
accordion (turns out: it works).
An Ungaro
perfume. Really strong. Really sweet. Really naughty.
A girl*
playing an organ … an authentic 19th century church organ. She’s
good! She’s oriental! She’s making me wanna spin my belly like an odalisque
(CADÂNA)
There’s a
lady with a baby visiting (MARY WITH JESUS)
* Oh, it’s
the girl wearing the Jews for Palestinians Liberation sweatshirt.
There’s
also a green monster on a microphone.
Where’s
that picture I’ve only seen from behind? I’ll never know what it depicted: life
or not.
Motto:
“Archangel
or whore
I don’t mind
All the roles
are lent to me
The life
never recognizing The simple life
that I am
still looking for Is lying
in the
very depths of me
their sin
has killed
all purity”
― Laure
(Colette Peignot)
Dancing on
Shiva’s corpse,
Killing
monsters, drinking their blood and eating their flesh,
Kali sticks
her tongue out to patriarchy –
Sweet goddess
of destruction.
Motto:
“They
have said that we owe allegiance to Safety, that he is our Red Cross who will
provide us with ointment and bandages for our wounds and remove the foreign
ideas the glass beads of fantasy the bent hairpins of unreason embedded in our
minds.”
― Janet
Frame, Faces in the Water
Misdiagnosed
with schizophrenia, Janet Frame was treated with electroconvulsive therapy (receiving
around 200 shocks) during almost ten years of psychiatric hospitalization; saved
in extremis from a lobotomy. Her doctor’s advice: never stop writing!
Circlusion
(vaginal or anal sexual act where the penis is passive): the opposite of penetration,
reversing the domination report (I “take” my partner inside me, so I am the
active one, the doer or the decider)
Questionnaire
for penetrating or circluding Safety (in our minds)
Is
safety a place?
Yes, but
for whom?
- A
natural park (the animals and plants inside it)
- The
people trespassing it (aggressed by the park’s safe-keeper)
There can
be no safety in double standards.
What is
safety between a small crowd …?
- Kindness
- Only
speak for oneself, using “I” pronoun
- No
judgment
- Confidentiality
- Consent
(with its corollary, respect one’s “stop”)
- Abstention
from acting upon a thought or an emotion (not slapping someone, even if we
would like to do it)
o
Welcoming
anger and expressing it constructively avoids transforming it into violence
o
Sublimation
by art
… of
strangers?
Society
rules:
- The
law (it is forbidden to kill, to provoke injuries, etc.; one must respect red
lights), if we all trust it
- The
habits (say “hello”)
- Public
accountability
- Shared
framework
Who enforces
the rules?
- Danger
of being overzealous, abusing one’s power
- Rigidity
/ flexibility around rules
Feeling
more comfortable with strangers:
- To
share one’s story / to have sex (when you know you won’t see that person again)
- Anonymity
=> Safety
… of fellow
citizens?
Some rules differ
from state/culture to state/culture
Safety
is the displacement of danger to some other place elsewhere. No?
No, there
can be danger in safety:
- Incest in families
- Pedophilia in church
- Mistreatment in psychiatric hospital (Janet Frame)
- When you are DIFFERENT from me, you need to be CRAZY so I can feel SAFE
Danger can
also be good: to grow, to learn, to enlarge one’s conscience. There’s an erotic
to risk. Risk stimulates challenge and change.
What was
safety for the ones who were responsible for you when you were young?
- Good
grades
- Reading
- Theater
- Not using condoms 😊
- Not
having sex
When do
you pay for safety?
- Travel
insurance
- Security
services in sex clubs (sober agents guaranteeing respect for one’s consent)
If you
hurt what’s mine, I’ll sure as hell retaliate. Discuss.
DEFENSE to
re-establish one’s SECURITY => WAR or SAFETY?
VIOLENCE in
disguise of SELF-PROTECTION
What is
the location of safety?
- Self
confidence (inside one’s self)
- Bunker
in Israel or never going to Israel?
- Being
alone? (no external aggression, but risk of self-abuse: bulimia, isolation)
Big
Brother
That eye in
the sky
Is it God
or the devil watching?
Does it
make a difference?
They both
smoke anyway!
Oh Ophelia
Your naked
body is covered in shame
Pieces of
light over pieces of glass
Crushing
Smashing
Overwriting
Every beauty
left in the world
Blue
baby blue
Little blue butterfly
You’re the only one not to see your beauty
The perfect disguise
The little girl’s picture has been left on the table
Alone in a rainbow of accessories
Surrounded by pink balloons
Hiding
Art, here
These walls have always been here
Witnessing monks, and doctors, and soldiers, and cults
Have they found peace
When poetry filled the rooms?
The groupies
Your pictures scattered onto the floor
Waiting to be seen
Waiting to be noticed
Waiting to be validated
Waiting to be acknowledged
Waiting for their fans
I can’t hear her sing
There’s this blond princess baby doll
Who’s disturbing me
Because naked
Because made-up with lipstick and eye shadow
Because unsmiling
Because Lolita crying at night
Causette
Because she has no voice
Luckily one small patch is holding her up against the wall
Where she can be seen and remembered and pitied by the world
Criminal
Your face behind the glass looks like the Joker
Lying on the ground
Tired
There’s something birdy about you (or him; or they)
There’s something prisony (brick on brick on brick behind you)
Was this shot taken before or after you’d taken Gotham down?
Again
You’ve handcuffed me to thin air
Living with you is like being with a ghost
I thought you’d become my new best friend
(Like cigarettes in the past)
I thought I’d no longer be alone
(With my glass and bottle, every night)
I thought I’d be in your heart, always
Never forgotten
Never left behind
I thought I had found love in you.
I was mistaken.
Grandpa
Lying naked on the floor
Surrounded by balloons
Old
Sad
Looking at the sea
Alone
Maybe you should put a big red flower into your mouth and just close
your eyes and dream
Or remember
They/them
You’ve let hair grow under your armpit
Will you continue playing basketball with me?
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