Walls getting breath of fresh air

Roughcast or peppledash
plaster on the walls
cannot stand it -
trying to remove it
bleeding - hard work.
Pepplecast  or roughdash
its name does not matter
but its has to come off
- date found behind one
1871 - fun -.
What more will be found
when the walls are exposed?
Paintings from the Roman times
golden age graffitti?
Dashcast or roughpepple?
Walls of a house
talk through the time
and one day someone else
will find what I will write
or draw on these old
barriers holding the village out
maybe sobering writing
another date and let someone else
wonder  about
castrough or dashpepple?!

Contraception

A choice of contraception
should be a human right
A  bloodline of perception
A choice of contraception
must have sperm interception
or balancing of all might.
A choice of contraception
should be a human right.

Paisible

La  pour toujours c'est calme
a l'interieur d'une eglise
les murs insonores - vieux
comme l'espace - rendent
l'echo de la musique.
Interprete par des artistes en passant
cela rend l'esprit une ouverture
de temps passe - la paix
seulement pour une seconde
- quel embuscade de l'ame

Plans

Gotta lay plans
for the time
it fizzles
if I do not.

Plans for what
for painting the walls
necessary
but it could wait

Plans for writing
a novel another poem?
Mindful of
the content - right?.

Plans for meeting friends
that is easier
it requires no effort
being a social observer.

Plans for a day out
or a day in - sweeping
washing - taking care
of that body of mine.

Plans - so many plans
alas, I think ...
I have to make plans
for making plans.

Memoir d'outre tombe??

Pour un metropolitain
d'etre dans un village
fait rever au tirage
reste que les quatrains

Les vieils hommes
et des femmes aussi
resteront enferme ici
sans le savoir - autonomes

D'ou les personages
vont faire leurs retours
sans grand tambour
aux  tombes sauvages?

Pour des certains untels
s' acclament avec des mailloches
mais la terre se decroche
et seul eux sont immortels.

L'artiste manquee

L'artiste
n'ose pas
ne me permets pas
pas si douee
manquee

L'artiste
ne m'ouvre pas
m'excuse toujours
pas le temps
manquee

L'artiste
reste en moi
suis sur mes gardes
m'isole
manquee.

Beziers - et la mort d'un coeur

Beziers plus de 2700 ans d'histoire
visite par des peuples etranges
et vaincu par des Romains,
des Visigoths, des musulmans,
par l'Eglise Romaine en 1209
ou Amaury a dit: " Dieu reconnaitra les siens"
est en train de mourir -
le dernier souffle du centre.

Les alles avec les platanes
les boutiques et les restaurants,
les bars, et le cinema d'art (il n'en a plus)
le theatre et les arenes - utilisees
mais pas trop,
car les gens fuient dans leurs autos.

On augmente les centres
autour de la ville -
cela ne vaut rien.

Le coeur est moribond
et la pompe de vie
est en train d'etre etranglee,
car Raymond Couderc dit,
"Tuez-les tous".

Vandals

Alas, my poor little car
its veins of starter
ribbed loose
so a visit to a car doctor
to  come alive again.
The frog car will ribbit
once more.

Bell Beaker Form

Ancient Neolithic form
of barley and burials
from continental Europe
to the Celtic Isles
how did they come
to have that special form?
Were it a form of Matriarchal
linear curvaceous shape
embracing the Goddess
in all her might - given
that each sculptress
to a secret bound oath
that each knew - the last
of the great goddess form
in a utilitarian urn or jar?
It could naturally be interpreted
as the male aggregate -  a vaunt
or mayhap a marriage vessel?
From barley and wine to an urn
all life is contained
in a earthenware container.

Le temps d'un village

Le village reste toujours
et les gens parcourent
avec leurs buts quotidiens
il y aura des frais diluviens
sans le savoir - dans l'abbatoir
la vie continue - roulante biscornue.
Une chose reste - des chansons de geste
avec leurs histoires d'amour
l'eternel  mi-transparent abat-jour.

Surcongele

Le clan des etrangers
vient d'avoir une convocation amicale
tous sont tres polis
sous l'epiderme elegant
il y a des etranges sentiments
d'un froideur surcongele.

Twingo encore

Twingo tango
twisting along
singing - spinning
twirling the wagon
the well-known roads
of a special place
gazing out the window
with smiles on my face
Banquo twingo.

A new day

On to a new day
of a new life
on to a village
of  my own
on to adventures
of  unknown
on to sorrows
of a sad wife
on to a new day.

Sadness - not yet

Sadness - another year
All the students gone
spread some minuscule
words of wisdom
cannot be sure.
Knowledge parted
is wisdom grabbed
sadly recognizing
that some may not succeed
hopelessly optimistic -
maybe next time
although for some - this
will be what they get
from their surroundings,
You're a failure.
Optimist always
from  downwards
spiralling will try
and again upbeating
this hope - nay fantasy
that one day a flaying one
shall be flying somehow,
when - is another matter
but - on eday!

Raccoons' haiku

A backyard terrace
with dainty planters and chairs
a place raccoons poop!

For Lili.

A sin

A priest's ordination
made an impression
the paganism in all
the symbols tall
How very easy it seems
to the believers beams
of faith and religion
only - a winged pigeon
flying with the mind
along with its rhyme
part of being commune
singing with the bassoon.
Alas, all the pageantry
splashed like falconry
beautiful slaughter of kin
to an atheist - a true sin

Dr. Seuss -not in vain

Weird people wired weirdly
the in-betweeners drown in the middle
sane  persons sounding sane
are there in the world anythingers?
Turning the points upside down -
the go-alongers still are in the muddle!
So what are you, a weirdo or goodnick
any other denomination is out.
And if you are between a wired weirdo
or good sanenick - can you be
a sane weirdo with a penchant for
an inbetweener odd goodnick ?

Poetical conundrum

Confound the ways
of the brainwaves
when driving a car
all of a sudden
the poetess has doubts
not so much about
how she writes
but that poems
should have endings
like life itself?
Should the couplets
rhyme or kowtow
to the slavery of the grammar?
Must the poets show
their innermost intuition
by saying exactly
what they think and no fix?
Would it be better
to just go with the flow
and join the other thousands
- rhyming their lives away -
for lack of a better term?
(Poets should always know
what to think, but they do not -
a pro's secret - )

This hypothesis will end
with no answers - just
a random ambrosial blurb
on this little blog,
but it is mine!

new web spin

A website needs updating
so does one reinvent the wheel?
Copy other sites, twist the tweets?
Something that appeals
to this generation's span
of both tweets and
facebookers' pokes.
Can academia converse
seriously with instagrams
of micro-ittentional
calibrated brainwaves
due to all the electrons?
Teaching theorems
through massive measures
into iphonial goggles.
Website must apply
a newsy wayward in
to the users' brainwaves.
Death by cobwebs otherwise.