Photonic delirium

In silence, hear
the vibes of a delirium
unfolding somewhere 
in outer space:
Billions of photons returning 
to the state of a single star.

Life of a butterfly

How do we condense
the future tense
of all the longings 
of a lifetime?

Suddenly, a butterfly 
teases my sight,
fluttering tirelessly 
in my world before 
fading into pure, timeless

Ecstasy.

Quilting the Truth

We do, in the spring
of our lives, get stranded
in the weedy strangling
struggles for knowledge.

We begin to seek places,
temples, altars or
concealed tombs to erect
over our thirsty souls.

We even fall in the grace
of loquacious, yet deceiving
so-called representatives 
of the Word.

Yet, all this admirable
quest we try and achieve
to grow towards insights
falls like unstable towers 
of playing cards as we 
suddenly discover that 

Truth is really not human
pain is 
and that the way to heaven 
is simply the road 
we chose to travel on.

Caveat emptor

Don't buy anything I say.
My mind is an ever-shifting
Dangerous minefield:
The root of your thoughts
May be blown away.
So much beauty, yet 
inasmuch insanity is there.

Neomenia

Bring on your offerings
And chant to the Gods
She has come and changed 
her looks to announce
Her recent death and rebirth. 

Paris revisited...

Oh! Paris, Paris!
The dreams will end soon.
I have to go back in time
Before the dawn is due.

There I was, a stranger,
Strolling down Boulevard Saint-Germain,
Sifting through second-hand books,
Seeking to refurbish  the essence of poetry
Living in me after feeling awe-struck 
Within the walls of Notre-Dame.

I then sat down at the 
Luxembourg Gardens 
To see the secular gardener
Preserving a nation's memory.
Bridge after bridge,
I walked hand in hand with 
The Seine until the day was done.

I stopped by a bistrot and
Devoured  a cheese-peppered
Crepe as I passed by a narrow
Street on my way back home. 
I heard the sound of a girl
Playing accordion whole heartedly.

Night came upon us all.
Paris dressed the moon
And lifted the stars:  
The Moulin Rouge suddenly
Started its uproar.

And there I was, still a stranger,
Defying sleep, struggling to keep 
Paris, the Gay Paris in me.

Reverse vortex

A mystical revelation was expelled
From the unseen Universe's womb
Into the light of all men:
Few saw or felt the dawning 
Of a new Conscience.

Corps Exquis

I had dinner with Baudelaire 
last night. No Flowers of Evil lines
came out of his mouth. But
A moth was dangerously leaning
forward on the edge of his 
glass of red wine, intoxicated
by the fumes of a Gitanes
cigarette half-consumed by
Sartre's and Beauvoir's lungs next table.
Picasso barged in, in his cubic phase
and, fair and square, smacked 
the moth down to its deadly misery, 
gave Sartre a saucy French kiss (cutting
then his throat) and then
stabbed Beauvoir to death.

Baudelaire stared at all this 
mess and slowly uttered a poem 
that sounded like an epitaph:

"We shall have beds full of subtle perfumes, 
Divans as deep as graves, and on the shelves 
Will be strange flowers that blossomed for us 
under more beautiful heavens."

And so I decided to leave this nonsense place 
to have an exquisite big-sized pizza
with four steaming cheeses and a coke
and send all this absurd
people to hell.  

I wish that all could...

I wish that all could see
The feathered wings of insanity
Disguised in apparent tranquility.

Time ticks by so fast, 
Nothing live remains still in here:
My mind is a sharp-edged spear.

I am a miracle of creation,
And yet nobody hears the poesy
Nested deep in my secular frenzy.

I wish that all could hear
The soothing notes of rain's symphony
Tip tapping on the blacks and whites of ecstasy.  

The Truth Within

Close your eyes.
Gaze within and 
Dive aimlessly:
Expect nothing, 
Just feel the vertigo
As you fall into 
The bottomless 
Truth within.

Open your eyes:
You feel it 
You know it. 
Now.

Natural soul bleeders

We are flames of desire 
Falling from Divine Consciousness:
Puzzles of the Ultimate Dream,
We are natural soul bleeders. 
We try and blend fire and essence.
But are we bold enough to keep 
This momentum until we are One?  

Metisella formosus

There she is,
Gracefully flapping her wings
As she daringly entered
My reverie:
Was I in an African jungle
Or was the jungle in me?

Black realm of thoughts

Dusk collapses into 
The black realm of thoughts:
All is clear to me, at last.
I can hear the calling 
Of my silent soul.

One

If I dream, it means 
My journey is not yet done:
Many a days  and many a nights 
And lessons yet to come.

I have been a beggar and then a king,
I tasted despair in the lack of bare necessities,
I banqueted in lust, luxury and extravaganza.

But ultimately, I dream, in my last stanza
To merge into one thing:

Forget it all and be only One with everything. 

Summer is finally here

Summer is finally here.
Crickets' and cicadas' frenzy
Celebrate a secular melody.
I am at peace and in silence,
Leaning my glance to the azure sea:
My imagination set sails towards Infinity.

I am an illusion

I never ceased to exist:
Right from the beginning, 
I am past, present and future.
I further illusions by thinking that 
I am something that Consciousness 
Has been inspiring all along in my mind:

I am the butterfly that dreamt about 
Me dreaming about a butterfly dreaming 
About me dreaming being a butterfly.

Sunsetting, ardent lips

Sunsetting, ardent lips roll over
The longing, quivering tortuous curves.
They suddenly dive audaciously in the cavern
As preying vultures, sucking sap to the bone.

A sufi song I

Sufis swirl in a swift shift,

Moon’s riffs adrift, mighty alit.

Life sifts through the forbidden gift:

Rats underground’s night wrath

Tickle, suckle my brain’s knuckles.

I break free in glorious subtlety:

Oh! Wondrous Light!