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Wednesday, May 4, 2011

The moon all too fair...

Ugh. Finals week is here again. This is my fourth one. Finished a huge paper today, and am celebrating quietly by myself with some great seasonal beer and some lightening. I am also listening to sappy, sweet songs that make me want to dance or cry. Or both. This is the most beautiful song translation I've ever found. I've never known the translation, but looked it up tonight. Hope you enjoy, cause that's all you're getting until I finish the rest of my finals this week. Have a great night blogland.

Complainte de la Butte
La lune trop blême
Pose un diadème
Sur tes cheveux roux
La lune trop rousse
De gloire éclabousse
Ton jupon plein d'trous

La lune trop pâle
Caresse l'opale
De tes yeux blasés
Princesse de la rue
Soit la bienvenue
Dans mon coeur blessé

The stairways up to la butte can make the wretched sigh
While windmill wings of the moulins shelter you and I

Ma p'tite mandigote
Je sens ta menotte
Qui cherche ma main
Je sens ta poitrine
Et ta taille fine
J'oublie mon chagrin

Je sens sur tes lèvres
Une odeur de fièvre
De gosse mal nourri
Et sous ta caresse
Je sens une ivresse
Qui m'anéantit

The stairways up to la butte can make the wretched sigh
While windmill wings of the moulins shelter you and I

Mais voilà qu'il trotte
La lune se flotte
La princesse aussi
La la la la la La la la la la Mon rêve évanoui

Les escaliers de la butte sont durs aux miséreux
Les ailes des moulins protégent les amoureux

English Translation:

The moon, all too fair, in your russet-red hair sets a sparkling crown
The moon, all too red with glory, is spread on your poor, tattered gown
The moon, all too white, caresses the light in your world-weary eyes
Princess of the street, do allow me to greet you, my broken heart cries

The steps of Montmartre, all uphill, are hardest on the poor
The sails of the mill, like wings, shelter all paramours

I feel, beggar-girl, your fetters, they curl as they seek out my wrists
I feel your young breasts, your thin little waist
I lose my regrets
I taste on your mouth the feverish breath of a half-starving waif
And with your caress I sense drunkenness erasing my life

The steps of Montmartre, all uphill, are hardest on the poor
The sails of the mill, like wings, shelter all paramours

And see how she skips, the moon how she drifts,
The princess in tow
Da da da da da da da da da da
My reveries grow

The steps of Montmartre, all uphill, are hardest on the poor
The sails of the mill, like wings, shelter all paramours

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Moonlight



Supermoon tonight...also know as a Perigee moon...looked for it, couldn't find it. Oh well, my creative juices are still flowing. Cleaned my room after a week long fit of flu, drank some green tea and feeling a little inspired and romantic. Here some pics I took tonight...






I also made a kickass supermoon playlist. Listen and love. Have a good night!

Get a playlist! Standalone player Get Ringtones


Sunday, February 27, 2011

Oasis


The paths that we lay upon this paper
appear.
Barely.
Smudged off by fingers that leave telltale
prints on other's necks and cheeks.
The signs that we cut are brushed close
with wretched branches that fall from
ancient trees.
These landmarks and coordinates are hazy
as we suffer from hyperthermia.
With dry leathery tongues
and dusty breaths we continue
to waste our short time with
talk of water.
Water.
Water.
Follow these hazy tracks
with double, now triple vision.
Search for an oasis that will hold
your writhing body close to the shade
and away from the flame.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Late Night Answering Machine #1

When I was a baby, my father dropped me on my head and I bounced into my mother's arms. My mother cried everyday until she died. I wonder if she was crying for me or for herself.

Friday, February 4, 2011


These are the moments
I return to.
Warm air electric
with the current
of energy that
seeps through pores
of a body that cares.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Etiquette

Fuck the etiquette of
what should be said
and fuck the thoughts
that control my head.
Fuck the life
that holds me
tight with
both thumbs white
against my throat
Until I choke back
all the words that
must be said
Fuck the weight
of the blood in my brain
as it thickens and clots
into
resolutions
and
decisions
that may just leave me
bleeding on the floor.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Pretty Stuff

Hold me tight
(but not too tight)
as I open myself up
to reveal the
pretty stuff
that makes me up
as it slides out on the
floor in a puddle
at your feet
try not to act
shocked
as I give you
ALL of me
with the crazy
and the lovely
and everything
in
between.
Hold me close
(but not too close)
as you wait
for me to
declare
How she shall live life.
Fill in the ending with a word
that just won't rhyme.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Warm Blood and Cold Feet

Caught up in the midst
of a night that dies too young
is the sweet silence of secrets
that caress and hold one another
with warm blood and cold feet.
Heavy air drenched with stars
fill the lungs
that whisper and scream
the dearest desires held inside.
Walls spin and collide
in a happy tragedy
that will be remembered
until it's demise with time.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Sauvignon

Sweet wine sprint through my veins
and disguise this pain
and calamity as
a calm and peaceful sea.
Sweet wine wet my lips
with the taste of something
much too sweet for me to
taste.
Sweet wine fill this imprint
on my empty bed with a
soul to hold me tight at night.
Sweet wine dance me to the
break of day when all the pretty
words I say turn to dust
to be swept under
the proverbial rug that I
pronounce as reality.
Sweet wine
show yourself as an
entity to hold
my
heart
together.
To hold my
mind
tight.
To hold my
hand
And laugh at all my stupid jokes.
Sweet wine...
just let me dream,
even if just for the night.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Little Bird

Little bird,
who taught you these words
you speak?
When you talk to
a desire
a hangup
a flaw.
Little bird,
where will these words
take you?
Through the affections
infections
that make up your life?
Invisible strings
that hold up the things
that are most dear
to this thing you call heart.
Little bird,
where will these words
fly you
as you polish wings
made of stone.
Little bird,
will the ground
catch you the second time around?

Monday, January 17, 2011

Small hours

I hold on tight to the morning
till I become a victim to the demise
of night
when the weight of the day lay on my chest
and holds my eyes against the light.
These words will always fall
but who will catch them?
As I spin into a place where I am
invisible
invincible
untouchable
in this secret place I am held captive
till the dawn breaks through
and
slowly
kisses
my lips
with day.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

One More Night

What's the point of having tact
when everything is going to get me attacked
anyway
so even in my subtle tactful way
when I begin to say
I hate you and the way you are
but hey what's the point add punctuation
to the cause
an exclamation
because you don't listen anyways
but what can I expect from someone
who turns their eye from the pain
that controls my life
but you better keep on learning because my temper
is burning and I'm yearning
to tell you what a fucking moron you are
but who believes in wishing on a star
it must be great to live where they are
because there are no stars in this place
I call home
They say you reap what you sow
so I'm reaping
not sowing
because nothing in this wasteland
seems to be growing
as I spend my nights
creating masterpieces I call
regrets.
Waiting for crimson to soak the sky as
I lye awake
one more night.

Faire des Autels

Drink a drop
and break the chain
of events that forge the generations
that fill your mind with romance
and tragedy.
Grasp for hope
as you slip through
invisible events as you leave pieces
of yourself to time
as you fade into something that is deep
and strong on the maps that create your world.
Live for yourself
with an eye for and eye leaving the whole
world blind.
Head for the light and escape.
Faire des autels.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Into Misery

Can't sleep in this endless dream
that picks me up and slams me
into reality
into life
into love
into
misery
that seeps into my bones
like a sickness
that lacks a cure.
Keep your dim eyes off my candlelight
at the table we create with linens
and silver and pretty things.
Are you as happy as you say you are?
Cause I have my doubts
when the lights go out
that you just grasp my hand
to let it go
as I slam into reality
into life
into love.
Into misery.