La porte baille, laissant échapper un cri d’agoni

Et ce cri est une réponse aux hurlements  du vent

Pour remplir le silence des hommes

Aux lèvres cousues pour éviter toute puanteur

Nous vivions dans le suspendu

Ni dedans ni dehors

Cette maison cherchait qui dévorer le premier

Qui avait la chair bien tendre et l’esprit flou

La pluie claquait des doigts à l’extérieur pour nous distraire

De l’orage qui s’annonçait dans nos cœurs

Si seulement nous pouvions voir l’Etoile du Nord

Et percher nos âmes sur les branches des arbres du jardin

Peut être que des corps mieux disposés en prennent charge

Mais les fenêtres sont brumeuses

avec nos haleines chaudes d’amour, de haine et de sexe

cette maison dans son allure si accueillante et maternelle

nous a permis de s’épanouir et à la remplir avec tous nos énergies

au point que les voix de l’extérieur parlent de nous

comme si nous occupions le même milieu d’existence

nos griffes sortent vite quand un caillou nous est lance

par un de ces enfants qui voit l’étranger mais pas le danger

mais ces enfants qui nous ont visité

sans se faire accompagner par leur innocence

ont perdu leur souffle même après être rentres dans leurs familles

pour vivre la vie d’un produit d’usine

qu’un inventeur a pondu dans l’indifférence totale

mais nous aimons les regards des touristes

qui cherchent à percer notre voile de mystère

comme si se voir nue suffirait à mieux se connaitre

darksilenceinsuburbia:

Paulo Nazareth

Projeto Cadernos de África - Project Notes from Africa

Oui qu’est ce que vous pensez?

pushing against an ever rising ceiling…

pushing against an ever rising ceiling…

(via seeselfblack)

about to leave the US for two weeks to visit family, I advise y’all to leave this humongous beast once in awhile especially if you happen to have my skin color and your destination will be full of people of the same skin color.

So this blog is going to be on hiatus, apart from the poems I have been postponing to post, I will schedule them for the next two weeks.

Ca fait onze ans mes amis ! Onze ans !! Le shock culturel !!

wildcat2030:

Would you live in a house clinging to a cliff?
-
A design for a home anchored to a sheer cliff face offers a striking vista. But what would it take to live in such a place, asks Jon Kelly. For sale: distinctive seaside property with spectacular coastal views. Would suit high-value buyer untroubled by vertigo. So far it only exists as a concept, but the design for the Cliff House by Modscape, an Australian firm that designs and builds prefabricated homes, is enough to give a lurch to the stomach of anyone uneasy with heights. Here’s the pitch - it features three bedrooms (two doubles, the other en-suite), a stylish living space, a carport, separate bathroom and (tantalisingly or nausea-inducingly, depending on your tolerance of sheer drops) an open-air spa and barbecue area on the bottom floor. Artfully minimalist interior décor focuses visitors’ attention on “transcendent views of the ocean”. According to the company’s website, the plans were drawn up after a couple approached the firm asking its designers to explore how to build a holiday home along “extreme parcels” of coast in Victoria. (via BBC News - Would you live in a house clinging to a cliff?)

the answer is YES!

Bull’s Eyes

Bull’s Eyes

 

Fingers and feet don’t know what to do with themselves

When you have to be a stone

Waiting for the rain to turn you into a flower

Waiting for rain with open lips and hands

Sometimes the fidgeting turns into a dance

To loosen the limbs, the head and the heart

And endless swirling into the pulse of one’s heart

Sometimes lying flat and throbbing

Your iron will throws at the phlegmatic sky your own…

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Old People Are Garbage Good for Gardening

Old People Are Garbage Good for Gardening

You don’t know how good you are

Until you are good and dead

And by then the question as to how good you are

Is superseded by how dead you are

“This has to make sense”

We tell ourselves while munching on a good chicken wing

We exchange loud salamu alaykum to check if we are all good and alive

It’s not easy to take people’words at face value nowadays

Because you are trying to get words to have arms…

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Maybe, Maybe Not

People are never where they say they are

They are sitting across you

But you don’t know that you are staring at a shell

While the host has left the building

But you are quick to leave also

And all that’s left are two unreal people trying to be real

You remember too well the loneliness of Real meets Fake

You ended up talking, eating, walking, making love

Only with yourself

She just happened to be…

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Philosophy of the mind is one of those areas I’m always fascinated by, I read everything I can get my hands on it, from academic papers to fiction, and I personally think there’s no fiction without philosophy of the mind. 

My speculations is that life of the mind starts out with an explosion, plateaus around early 30’s, sometimes gets revived once in a while by traumatic or ecstasic experiences, but for most people, the growth has stopped because constant care is required, but it’s a lot more complex than physical care since one’s mind is hard to grasp…But like I said, mostly speculations.

(via fearandhope)

yep

yep

(via seeselfblack)