The way things slip down

The gaping hole that spells

Flee like hell

When you see flames

Going after your soul

While you still can

In the exaggerated softness

Of this emerging meantime

Things tell me to hush

While I still can

As to curtail lost innocence

Still standing after fate’s

Fatal blow to the ego

And other intertwined

Mysteries for the eyes

To land on.

]]> http://textworx.wordpress.com/2008/06/29/mysteries-for-the-eyes-to-land-on/feed/ guimond http://textworx.wordpress.com/2008/06/28/now-that-im-all-alone-now/ http://textworx.wordpress.com/2008/06/28/now-that-im-all-alone-now/#comments Sat, 28 Jun 2008 15:42:18 +0000 guimond http://textworx.wordpress.com/?p=117

Now that I’m all alone now

Now that my heart is dry

I’m reaching for the stars

To meet my maker

And fly into the sun

I’m poking around corners

Left open to conclusions

Now that my heart is dry

Now that my skin is wrinkled

I start reaching for forever

Into the backwards drawings

Of the universe’s pull

I look back to who

It was that did

Those things I did

Now that my heart is dry

Now that I’m alone now.

Standing at a crossroads

Waiting for something to happen

As summer sets

It’s teeth in my loneliness

Between now

And the tenth anniversary

Of my abstinence in love.

At my body’s open windows

I watch next chapters characters

Interact on the sidelines

Breathing tomorrow’s perfume

Having a heyday

On the road to my loss

Between fiction and reality

Facing a golden opening

It is today that I decided

That’s it

I’m writing it.

Originally AUJOURD’HUI by guimond

Translation: author.

]]> http://textworx.wordpress.com/2008/06/18/that%e2%80%99s-it-i%e2%80%99m-writing-it/feed/ guimond http://textworx.wordpress.com/2008/06/17/just-another-murder-wednesday/ http://textworx.wordpress.com/2008/06/17/just-another-murder-wednesday/#comments Wed, 18 Jun 2008 03:50:17 +0000 guimond http://textworx.wordpress.com/?p=112

Bursting out to sublimate matter
I am the atom seperated from inertia
Lingering only where I am most welcome

In other words fuck off
I’ve had more than enough
Don’t bother calling me anymore
I’m outta here sugar….

THE USEFULNESS OF HATE

I am humiliated
She flowers on the floor
Playing hot belly
Under fall willows,
With the chemotherapy of the a sea horse,

I’ll die strangled
In the skater’s cement,
When all men suffer from the virgin
And that the hospital visits are over
In the seizure of fractions. T

THE TORTURE OF SILENCE

I am a murder,
The gun’s bitch

Fragile as a lip
In the colors of a kiss

I didn’t know
That life’s torture was grace

Now autumn tones its mist
Meanwhile we burn
Under the ceiling’s rays,
Pretending not to swallow
Not breathing.

poems by Denis Vanier
from PORTER PLAINTE… Éditions Les Herbes-Rouges, Montréal, 2001
Translation daniel guimond

If this text works
Then the Gods must be crazy

All the evil
Twisted sh… buried under the carpets
When the doorbell rang…

We are the spin doctors

Of our own demise

We are but a singularity

A black rip

In the tissue of culture

We are the problem

Of our lack of solutions

And the world turns

The globe spins

The days drift

How many more hours

Does that exactly make?

Will there be enough time

For these slits

To depart my throat

In the aggressive silence

Where my blood sits

Though minds change

Species evolve

Others disappear

One singular consistency

Is the missing link

That is used

To keep me away

From getting to know you

Away from your eyes

Away from your mind

Away from your being

The blood from my vein

Away from feeling

A connection with the sane

Since the fault

Requires measures

I pray to my guilt

That it surrenders

And that one morning soon

My telephones will screech

With the sound of your voice

Telling me to go

Go to hell

If you want to

And join me here

In the burning comfort

Of regretful abundance

In the story of my love

So many odd years

Too late

This is but a key to the door

Of your dreams

Like a weathering Jesus

Stuck to the dashboard

With a cello between her knees

Her soul kneels to the occasion

I spit in the rearview mirror

As if I could make it think

While the tired Ford tears

Down the dirt road

To another colour hell

It used to be another story

Mostly in another town

Now it’s mostly waiting

For the man to show

For all intents and purposes

Are going to be straight up

Some are going to be black

Some are going to be blue

Faced with the utter lack of purpose

She bitches about levitation

Pretending not to see me

Hovering around the clouds

Suspended on the brink

Of her lament in C minor

Now that I have surmised her secret

She bitches on a speeding mission

Where for better or for worse

She smiles like pending doom

As to throw me the curve

In the final stretch I deserve

While the pole position swallows

Hurdling unfinished obstacles

To the finish I grasp

For a cubic foot of a worldmap

So there’s nothing for me to add

Alas she is bitching to the beat.

I am a little bit of loneliness,
a little bit of disregard
Handful of complaints,
but I can help the fact,
that everybody can see these scars
What I want you to want,
what I want you to feel
But it’s like no matter what I do,
I can’t convince you,
to just believe this is real
So I let go, watching you,
turn your back like you always do
Face away and pretend that I’m not
But I’ll be here ’cause you want what I’ve got

Linkin Park

My skin is sandpaper

Under your fingers

And while you make love with him

I lay here

Rubbing my hands

Assessing murderous thoughts of you

Dreaming that I blow in your neck

Some really nasty words

But I’m leaving

If that’s O.K.?

While you…

Who do you dream of?

When you break the plate

Screaming that you hate me

Hate me, hate me!…

When you swear that you and me

It’s all over, as of then

Meanwhile I still put the key

Under the rug since

Nobody remembers when

While jumping out of the

Living room window

Is no more of my age?

- I’M leaving O.K.?