If It’s The Last Time

[Inspired by Red Dead Redemption 2 – Warning: Spoiler]

As I watch some wild boars devastating the grass at the far end of the forest, I stay here, wondering if smallpox do the same kind of mayhem in my lungs than those wild animals makes in the forest. It probably looks like that in there, like a tornado just have passed.

Coughing blood after every intense activity, seeing myself, my body, weakened, this is probably the end, or at least, this is very close to it.

What’s left of me? A child that die after three hours of being born. And a wife, well, a «should have been wife» that do everything to forget me, friends that I will leave in need, a father figure going mad and a country that is changing way, way too much and way too fast.

Everyone keep telling me that I am a good man, that there is a side of me that is kind but it’s being overshadowed by the evil side, the one that keep thinking and hanging on a lifestyle that doesn’t belong in this new era we are entering in.

What a life, I had a good run. What happen to me is payback for all the ill I’ve done. There is a justice after all. At least, It’s look like it. This is at the very moment that death is around the corner that I finally realise that I have spent my time chasing ghost. And I have left a pile of dreadful things along the way.

What matter to me was nature, the Wild West, the anarchy and the poison of every god damn man in this world, money!

Damn! Money can’t buy me new lungs!

I wish I could have spent more time with that old Native American, riding next to him to the top of the mountain where is used to meditate and think.

Thinking! I have forgotten how to think! Like a raging bull, I’ve been going through life without planning what was waiting for me at the end. And the crash is my illness.

It’s all about love life isn’t it? What’s make us truly happy, for real? Have you noticed how falling in love was the most incredible and powerful things you could experience? It’s… rejuvenating! It’s something that bound us all, human beings. Everything seems pale next to being in love.

We don’t necessarily do great things when we are in love either, but at least, we do it for the most beautiful reason.

I had the chance to love and to be loved. That was a short period of my life, but the happiest one.

Years have gone by so fast! So fast! I always knew I will die young or, at least, not old. I was afraid to be old. And now, I wish I had this opportunity to grow old. Even alone, you don’t need someone to be happy, really.

If I could choose, I would have been a rancher. For once in my life, being stable. Here comes the time when the body can’t travel or being on the run, he can’t handle it anymore.

I would have had horses, cattle, a dog and a cat.

I would smoke a cigar on my porch, drinking whisky as I watch the sun set. Until I die.

But this kind of death isn’t for me, sadly.

The boars are now gone.

And I’m going on my last ride.

I’ll miss nature.

Maybe the other side, if there is one, is ready to welcome me. I hope so at least. I hope whatever decide our faith over here will see the good side of me, if there is one.

Can’t even take one good last breath, I guess I’m punished now to rest peacefully later.

I hope. Some people say faith is more important than anything. If think not. Love is.

Hope keep us going and love give us a purpose and a meaning.

Goodbye.

Jaskiers

Publicité

Once Upon A Time, There Was America

Have you ever heard that old saying, it was ‘better back in the good old days’?

How hypocrite and stupid is this saying! If you are reading this, if you are a white and straight male, trust me, today’s world is the same as it was before. Maybe a little (slightly?) ‘better’, for those who haven’t been born privileged.

There was a time, my friends, where being black was more difficult than today. And even as of today, it is still awfully difficult for them.

Being homosexual? Back in the ‘good ol’ days’? Let me give you a friendly reminder, it was illegal to be gay in America until 2003.

Being black, or gay, or both, life was about being outcasted. Wait, hold on, more than outcasted, they were lynched, insulted, threatened, and even killed. And you couldn’t ask the law to help. You had to pick up yourself and go on. If they didn’t kill you of course. It’s still going on today…

See, I’m an old, old man now. My job, all along my life, was reporter. Working with prestigious newspapers, doing real investigations. Of course there wasn’t any internet, everything was… slower. But we, reporters, on the ground, behind our typewriter, we were spreading informations, real ones. If you were fake my friend, no newspaper wanted you on board. The news rooms were battlefields.

Hunter S. Thompson, who breaked the codes and the boundaries, Woodward and Bernstein and their detective works pushing Nixon out of the fucking White House, you named it.

Those were the day when journalist, writer, poets were Rockstars along with Jim Morrison, The Beatles, Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin, The Rolling Stones. It was a revolution.

God, it was as violent as today. Maybe a little less, considering the amount of mass shootings skyrocketing right now.

But ‘back in those good ol’ days’, protest could turns into slaughter. For example, the four of may 1970, when the National Guard killed four students in Ohio while protesting against the war in Vietnam.

This was also the discovery of a new type of horror, serial killers. I won’t mention their names, you probably know some. But let me tell you, today, we do not have serial killers, well there is, but now, schools shootings seems to have taken the place of those monsters.

It’s terrifying. A bunch of people, mostly women, loved serial killers. Now, people admire school shooters. Those are mostly young men, white and with a simple access to gun. They kill as much as serial killer on a shorter period of time. And it’s spreading all over the country. Never ending.

Politics ask for thoughts and prayers, but no laws about restraining or even banning guns. And even if such laws pass, it barely does anything. Because, the NRA got some high profile politicians on theirs paycheck. In my opinion, this is legal bribing… Therefore, it will not end soon. Kids in America go to school like their in a war zone. All this for Freedom… kids pay that American Freedom by dying in classrooms…

Man, America is violence. It begun by the massacre of Native American. We live in a bloodstain soil, in violence in it’s purest form. Something got to change. We thought that a black president would change things drastically. It didn’t. A beautiful symbol of course, a powerful step forward but… nothing have changed.

We all needs a new Martin Luther King, a Robert Kennedy, a Malcom X before is assassination, someone need to help the black community and make the whites understand the tragic situation that the blacks and other minorities are facing. We need someone to gather us, to show us that we can live together and that we being divided and manipulated constantly for political gains… Why? Because a polarized and divided country is easier to govern. Divide and conquer. We should talk about sexism, the meetoo movement, women denouncing the sexual abuse and assault they face in their life. Powerful men who thought they were untouchable had to face justice. Femicids are on a all tome high. The fight need to go on. Equality is far from being reached.

Back in the ‘good ol’ days’c I was in the newsroom when Doctor King died. Same as for the murder of John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

I was at the scene of the murder of his younger brother, Bobby.

This was America sacrificing a potential peaceful and brighter future.

Today is better than the past. Come on, let’s not being grumpy, you, old folks dreaming of the past reading this. But it is far, far from being perfect. Because, like I’ve already said before, from the get go, things were already extremely bad. We need to care for each others, to stop being scared of our neighbors. Tolerance, respect, communicate, sharing! We need to be together so bad. Let’s not live in fear, this is not a life to live frightened. Neo-nazism is back in force, we need to face them, block them, and fight to keep our democracy.

I will live this earth soon, for a better place, I hope to at least. But I doubt this world is going in the right direction.

It was just the rambling of an old man. Sometimes, it’s good to hear what they have to say.

So, stand for what’s right, for your rights, for you life.

Jaskiers

There’s A Killer On The Road (A Short Story)

FYI: I am not fluent in English, I’m trying to be at least. Sorry for the potentials mistakes. Feel free to correct me in the comment section.

—

« – Go now, let’s go !

• What the fuck happened over there, shit !
• Come on faster !
• Yeah, but will you tell me where are Tim and Bryan for Christ’s sake ?
• Dude, it’s all turned into a shit show in there !
• Well I guess I already know that because you came back alone ! What was those gunshots that I’ve heard ? It was supposed to be a fine calculated job, no victim !
• Dude, we thought we had it all under control. Everybody knew the plan and what he had to do but that… fucking security guard decided to be a hero ! Like he was paid enough to care about a robbery !
• If you let you guard down man, they’ll take you out for sure.
• What do you fucking know about a bank a robbery ! Shut the hell up and do your job, driving !
• Well excuse me for being worried about bringing home one dude instead of three ! What happened to them !
• Faster !
• I’m at full speed ! Get out if you think you could run faster you shit ! Answer me ! Where are Tim and Bryan ?!
• Tim got shot in the right shoulder by the security guard and Bryan was instantly killed by a bystander in the bank.
• What ? And you came out of it unharmed !
• Tim was badly injured but he could still fire his gun. We exchanged a copious numbers of bullets with the cops and the civilian. We killed the officer first, the bystander emptied is Smith&Wesson on us, Bryan took a bullet in the head… He died instantly. When the civilian started to reload, we took the opportunity to shower him with bullets and that wannabe hero died. Then, time started running out so Tim was guarding the civilians, I took care of the banker who opened the safe, took the money in my duffle bag and when I’ve came back, Tim was bleeding badly. I think that he had been hit sooner during the fire exchange with ether the civilian or the guard. At first, I’ve thought it was in the shoulder but he was hit in the left lung. Had to choose between him and the money so I’ve choose him but he refused and told me to go. To secure the money you see. He told me good luck and said he would cover my exit just in case someone decided to play hero… and here I am now.
• Fuck. For real ? Men you’re full of shit ! I knew you were a coward at the second I laid eyes on you !
• Men fuck you ! I did what had to be done !
• Come on, you could have carried Tim with you !
• Dude, I was literally carrying millions of dollars in a bag ! Money is heavy but you wouldn’t know this because you are our fucking gateway driver !
• Man, I can fire a gun, be careful with what you said ! Can’t believe you left Tim to get die or… Wait… shit ! Was he the one who fired his gun just before you came running to the car ?
• Yes I’ve told you, he was covering me !
• You fucking lier ! He was trying to shoot you because you’re the one who killed Bryan ! »

Rami died on the spot, shot by Aubrey.

« – You haven’t see that one coming isn’t it ? Getaway driver my ass ! »

Throwing the body out of the car, Aubrey drove West.

Nothing was going accordant to the plan, he saw the flashing lights of law enforcement cars reflecting on his rear view mirror.

Taking his handgun, he fired at the blinding lights. He received a salve of bullets as an answer.

The car stopped going forward almost immediately.

He had a two possibility now. Run or facing the cops.

To this day, the faith of the five million dollars is still unknown. But they’re tainted in blood, sweat, tears and betrayal, like every currency in this world.

Jaskiers

Just Some Unfortunates Sons Getaway (short story)

FYI: I am not fluent in English, I’m trying to be at least. Sorry for the potentials mistakes. Feel free to correct me in the comment section.

—

« – Arthur my men ! You got the goods haven’t you ?

• Have a guess Shepard.
• You’ve god that ironic smirk, the same that you have when you have a good hand !
• Jesus Shep’ ! You should’ve become a shrink.
• Yeah, I was studying for becoming one before coming in this hellhole.
• Speakin’ of hellhole, move your ass, give some space would ya !
• Fine ! So, who’s rolling it ?
• You fucker, you’re not waisting a single minute ! Man you have no idea how hard it is to find some good kush aroun’ here !
• Jeeeesssssus ! Give me the goods would ya’ !
• How polite my good sire ! Here you go now, do it quick and perfect, like my girl used to describe my performances in bed !
• Ah ! You dumbass ! I have a gal’ back home too !
• Yeah I know Dude but let’s talk ´bout this bitch after a good smoke.
• She’s cheatin’ on me brother !
• I bet ! Now come on, roll it up and we’ll talk ‘bout it all right ?
• Yeah… but high or na i’ll still be mad y’know.
• High with some music ?
• What ?
• You heard me you fuck !
• Did you fixe that fucking radio ?
• Yes sir !
• Man ! You are a women behind all that soldier gear of yours !
• Ah ! Wait what, come again ?
• Y’Know, women are good at multitaskin’. And look at you, find weed in this hell and spend is spare time fixing a radio !
• Buddy, you hittin’ on me or what ? Ah !
• Ah ! If I had a… y’now instead of a huge dick, I would gladly let you hit !
• What the fuck are you on !
• Nothing !
• That’s what I mean Shep’ ! Your acting high before even smoking !
• That’s my brain brotha’ !
• You ain’t got one ! Ah !
• Fuck you dude !
• Oh come one. Let me put some music.
• Yeah ! Do something usefull for once in your life Arthur !
• I’m serving my country !
• But you where obligated to do it !
• Still, am taking the good side of it !
• See that ! Killin’ vietnamese for good ol’ ‘mericcaaa !
• « Please show me the way to the next Whiksy bar ! »
• « Ah don’t ask why ! »
• « Ah don’t ask why ! »
• Fucking yes man ! Getting high with a good pal et The Doors !
• Your wanna light it up ?
• Nah ! You got the privilege !
• Merci monsieur !
• Ah ! French !
• Oui oui ! Pffffff ! My joint monsieur, big like baguette oui oui han han !
• Give me give me monsieur !
• Oui oui !
• Pfff. The grass… always greener… well more green after i smoke.
• If it become blue well it’s probably LSD then. So good thing it’s green. Very green !
• When the last time you tripped on acid ?
• Like… pfff… 2 month ago ?
• Where ? Pffff
• Hanoï !
• Dude ! Dangerous to trip there !
• Why ? Pfff
• The fifth column !
• Hemingway’s short story ? What are you on about !
• Pffff. I’m on weed you fuck !
• Cunt !
• Let’s not go british, French was enough !
• What did ya mean with… pfffff. The fifth column ?
• Well you know… the north-vietnamese that spy and pray on the dumb American who come to Hanoï for a good time !
• Oh ! That’s what’s a fifth column his ! Pffffff.
• So tell me ? You got high and ?
• Well I’ve confused The Rolling Stones and Hendrix.
• How can this be possible !
• Acid !
• Yeah I’ve got that but how ?
• I don’t know, was at that bar, and the music was… I saw that the music notes had colors !
• That’s dope.
• Really is !
• Man, I have enough of all this shit… Miss home y’know.
• How many did you smoked ?
• Wha’?
• Communists.
• Oh… I don’t know… everytime the captain tell me to shoot, I shoot. At branches, leaves, trees, grass…
• Yeah same.
• It’s like we’ve come here to do landscaping !
• Ah ! Yeah that’s it ! Never saw a single north-vietnamese diying by my hand !
• Brother ! The napalm is not to kill but to help us do our duty, landscaping !
• Ah ! You shit !
• Arthur ! Shepard ! Where the fuck are you !
• Pfff. Quick, throw the joint !
• Fuck no, I’m keeping what’s left of it !
• Well quick Shep’ for goodness sake !
• Shepard ! Arthur ! For Christ sake come on let’s go we’re mooving !
• Here Captain, on our way !
• Why are you two always together ? Do you folks have some secrets ?
• No !
• No sir !
• Pretty sure they fuckin’ captain.
• Marshall, shut the hell up would you ! Wait… what the fuck am I hearing ?
• Radio captain. I fixed it.
• Well bravo ! Next time put the volume higher so the ennemy can have a listen !
• Sorry captain !
• Let’s moove ! Forward !
• Here we go Shepard, landscaping for good ol’ Uncle Sam !
• So proud, here we go, doing our duties ! Earning a living ! For the free world ! »

Jaskiers

Tributes to The Lizard King # 5 | It’s all Over

The « Tributes to the Lizard King » series is my hommage to the poems and writings of Jim Morrison.

FYI: I am not fluent in English, I’m trying to be at least. Sorry for the potentials mistakes. Feel free to correct me in the comment section.

—

Today, it’s all over.

We buried the

Unknown Soldier.

Lighted a candle,

nourished the fire.

Walking in the desert and

Step on a wire.

Trip in the sand, and…

Fell in love with a witch

and her magic wand.

Slowly she raised my hand.

Til’ the heaven stop the hell.

That’s what’s she told me.

Did she loved it?

I can’t tell.

I loved her two time,

One for tomorrow and one for

Today.

It’s all seem to far away,

like the Beatles and Yesterday.

Life is a bet,

to no one’s,

we owe debt.

Baby we gonna be alright,

because we learned how to forget.

As the sun we’ve been waiting for,

Set.

I need to go away,

We are just wanderer,

on planet Earth.

Just flesh, eyes, nervous systems and beating hearts.

Cancel our subscriptions to the

resurrection.

They’re is but one direction,

one thing we will all go through,

you know what I’m talking about.

I leave you, remember me, flamboyant,

no encore.

Followed her in the wood.

You want the world,

Now !

Scream, act bold,

scold because they scorched

our beautiful sister.

As the world go round and round,

we going numb and dumb.

Nobody want to fight in the front line,

for a wicked politician.

Good news !

The hitchhiker is dead !

Peoples flock the street,

but I feel dread.

This was me, the all time !

I had this thirst for love I could not quench

I’ve fallen down.

I can not stand.

Because this is the END.

—

Jaskiers

Tributes to The Lizard King # 4 |A Killer awoke before dawn

The « Tributes to the Lizard King » series is my hommage to the poems and writings of Jim Morrison.

FYI: I am not fluent in English, I’m trying to be at least. Sorry for the potentials mistakes. Feel free to correct me in the comment section.

—

Wandering in the darkness

For a moment.

Approaching the light and another.

The hitchhiker full of hatred

Realize he is nothing less than dead.

A cold summer rain

A warm winter snow

in the blanket of ice

He took his final bow.

What happened ? His everything allright Pam ?

Young people still dying for Uncle Sam !

Jim !

Nothing have changed.

Put in some pill, cure my brain.

Of disease

with ease.

Coughing

I’ill stop drinking tomorow morning !

That’s what’s the doctor said.

How much did I paid ?

Cheap drugs

Grave dug

Père-Lachaise

Next stop.

The girl in the window

Still won’t drop.

How they will spread hateful inks

Puting on the paper my weirdest kink.

Always alive

For death I strive

One day I’ll dive

for one last night.

With my pal.

Cosmic Girlfriend

Witch and devil

Is this the end ?

Game ! Took a bet !

Dead body in a bath

mother, father, let your kids avoid the draft !

Beautiful friends, look for a cold blooded lizard

Instead of a scamming wizard.

In few decade will come a friend

destroying the establishment from the inside.

And a bullet In his brain

That will be all he gain.

Everyone carry their pain.

Perverted, divergent generation of unholy saints

Singing for the redemption of…

I’m glad you came.

When I do it alone darling

I feel such a shame.

This is not the same.

Can we stop that game.

Boring end of a day,

an other dead corpse

an other death for hopes.

Oh captain I feel sorry.

Why so much disdain ?

Mistrust ? Why do they deserve

a bullet in the guts ?

Why Am I here ? What’s my worth ?

I will finish my days

with my mistress.

I’ve sang about the scream of a butterfly

Fly,

high,

a life unchained, untied.

Freedom for all.

The real one.

Don’t listen to your president

he too, kill innocent.

Exhuberent, arrogant.

All of them,

adamant,

lunging,

Clinging for power.

Humanity ? For that it’s over.

They send your child

to the slaughter house.

When they should be hanging out

in a road-house.

Dead generation

Forget the past.

It’s their turn now

To turn the tide.

A table turn

the forest burn

kids with gun,

They’ve got the fund,

to wage their war.

But none for them,

by the side of the road,

abandonned again.

The hitchhiker

modern Charon

Cross the river

it is shallow

everythings seems,

so hollow.

How the place you’ll go !

Fly high

Come down

to drown

and die.

You fell of the boat

their’s no one above

Neither below.

How the place you will hurt

Boots full of dust

rifles full of rust.

The killer of the futur,

will taste an other kind

Of lust !

Lost !

Mother ?

Yes son ?

Nothing, I’m moving out, moving on !

Buy the times this message reach you,

I will be long gone

because I alway awoke before dawn.

I put my boots on.

Father ?

Yes son ?

I’m not the one,

searching for honor.

Neither glory.

Don’t you worry

Mom, dad.

I’m glad,

thanks to you, a decent life I had,

reality hit me hard.

Nothing,

meet me at the psych ward !

—

Jaskiers

Tributes to The Lizard King # 3 | Rising your Mojo

The « Tributes to the Lizard King » series is my hommage to the poems and writings of Jim Morrison.

FYI: I am not fluent in English, I’m trying to be at least. Sorry for the potentials mistakes. Feel free to correct me in the comment section.

—

Lit a cigarette
In front of the audience.
Hit it once
Throw it on them.

Flamethrower
In the trenches,
Audacious !
Going over the fences.
Government lies are denses.

Valse
Tango
Spanish
And Flamenco.

Bulls love mouvement
Not the color !
Smell the blood
Iron odor.

Open the Doors !

travel, jump on the floor

no feast, again ?
No friends
No honor.

Bedroom full
Of books.
Trying to plant some
Roots.

Hangin on to something.
Check the noose.

Give him boose
So he can leave.
On the loose.
He cannot choose.

A freak accident,
By the side of the road,
Dead Natives Indians.
White Americans are
Guilty.

They said ;
Careful !
They’re a killer on a road !
You know the form of his brain !
Tried to change him in vain.
He want to inflict pain.

Hotel money sex and alcool
Hangover as an hyperbole.

Cigarette ashe burned my crotch.
I have to find another dealer
Another dope,
To float my boat.

Tell God
Face Satan,

He’s got himself,
A face, one of a goat.

Watergate,
Call Deepthroat.

A missing colony in Roanoke.

Soft balls, eyes.
hard bones, hole.
Die.

She just want to sleep with some guy.
He just want a relationship.
Church, mariage and
Everything.

How boring…

Guns on the night stand
gonna make the night end.
Note of Achille last stand.

Walking on one leg
shooting with one hand.

The other to busy,
Making provocative gestures.

Yesterday, far away
A Beatles is dead
imagine, song wrote in bed
For a protest
by a millionaire
it’s business
long hair
Man.
Really dont care.

Another shooting
Hitchhiker in the wilderness
Black tharp
Bullets
Cobain brain
Sex drive drained
clout gain
When the music start again.

Daughter of the storm,
birds feeding their offspring
Worms.
They’ve feasted on your dead body.

Morning glory.
Take good care of my wood.
please lady of the street
Be good.

Yelling compliments aloud
head in the clouds.

Give me one ! Please
put myself at ease.
The old men is wise
your thighs, my prizes.

Tight squeeze.

Reflection on the tempo
no mirror
Check ego.

Valentine, oh Valentine !
Officers, I’m innocent !
They started it,
stamping elephant
wear some elegant
cloths.
For you are the galant.
Bed sheets, a talent.

Lucy in the sky with diarhhea

way done bellow.
On the receiving end,
guess a color,
said yellow.

Submarine
Nuclear
missile. Launch.
Being eated alive
by a brown bear. Lunch.

With me you are
You
Tomorow we’ll be good.

But tonight
I’ve met a maniac,
Who think the hear is flat.

Walk on the moon
the dark side
of her. The bright
Influence the sea tide.

Tidy little bedroom
tank crew go boom.

Met the witch on her broom.

Patriarca
Pater Riot

Pussy,
super ball.
An invite
welcome home.

The same rhymes,
the same time.

Kill a men
Don’t go to prison
attacking a demon.

Stay with mom
leave us alone.

Quote on quote
Broad on Broadway’s sidewalk.

Take it, see you, shit sister.

Kneeling for the anthem,

Welcome.

Go home

you are a dead.

Mouvements and conflicts
In our eternity.

Leave
Live light show
making it flows.

Foes full of flaws.

Old papy pays the fine
With rusty Diamonds.

Stay easy and calm
Reproduce.

Scream at the wall.

Great lf the sea

make out the scenery.

Boddah
Woke up !

When ?

Foremost, tomorrow,

Forward, too hard.

First Forest, burn.
Familiar with the boss
But we hate him.

Ate.

Wink.

School called
Let him in.

Fallen
Dragged
Killed.

Holy war,

All in the
Film Noir.

And whiling to be reborn.

No renaissance.

Take your Time.
Reverse the big flow.

A sail laid on the sea tide.

Cancer diagnostic,

let me die.
For what.
Rested my case before and again.
Peaceful resident
Adamant and conscientiously resistant.

I let myself drown into the sea.

We are from another realm ?

Nod your head yes
And I’ll say no.

Go away demon of the night
Yesterday I rested
Today once more,

So let me go !

Your evil dance.

Demonic chance.
See you after.
Today.
The sun is up.
Ghosts throwing up.
They couldn’t handle
Their last cup.

Bye now
World of non-sense.

To never and ever.

Good sight.

For a good bye.

—

Jaskiers

Tributes to The Lizard King Series # 2 | Turn On The Lights !

The « Tributes to the Lizard King » series is my hommage to the poems and writings of Jim Morrison.

FYI: I am not fluent in English, I’m trying to be at least. Sorry for the potentials mistakes. Feel free to correct me in the comment section.

—

The music as ended, get up and turn on the lights.

Slowly, my eyes will burn.

Onward !

Let me rest
Fight my inner demons
Unrest.

Outside the window,
Hear the tempest.
Invasive thoughts,
Unwelcomed guest.

Heavy burden, get of my chest.
your finger tips
Run on my skin,
The devil and his jest.

In the never,
Go west,
In the wilderness
thick bushy forest.

Turn on the lights,
Let’s make it bright !

Since the music’s over,
Watch out for the Hitchiker,
Faceless shadow,
Mean, rugged, you disgrace !

I’ll tell you,
When to
Put it off

Because my dear

Death…

it’s not the end
The dark feelings, the bitter,
Bend.
Once more. Over. We’ll do it again.

Just a beginning.

Pass the chemical,
for the American pastoral
Not a country for the Royals.

Let’s go back, to the Grace.
Dear Father, they’re sinner.

To the moon.

All above
A watchtower
No joker
Tell dylan
No tambourin man !

Come again come again !
No ! Next Time.

Right now,
Still need to gather
That mind of mine
thinking about that
Surprise gathering
unlocket it
Took of my hat.
Ready for
The blow-back.

Poor Ophelia, you said it.
The gambler hit.

All in
Chance are
One to five
I only have
Luck this time.

And you, angel,
Wipe out the Dust
With those fairy wings
wind gust.
Throught the Windows
Again, Hitchiker looking for.
Making Widows !

Still, it’s not the time
come
And talk. It will hurt
less
lizard hard eye,
bedroom a mess.

Bring in no priest
banned books all over the place.

Watch for every step,
gain distance from me,
Go away from you.

Still up
mine almost there
Their’s time to spend
life to waste.
no shackles

on wrist.
Welcome, this is not a test
put on weight. The robber
got no vest.

He’s always heading west.

Thunder rolling in the east
maggots and yeast.

Always the same,
Repeating storys
of mother crying
of machins, gunning
Killing,
Bombing.
Rising mister ?
Mojo willing !
Tasty !
Well, billing.

Money for nothin’
The Killer on the road
Gunslingin’

Hooker of my street
Corner.
Hustling with J.Edgar
Hoover.

Over. Not.

Let’s tie another knot !
Hear an other note,
go down and up.

Shining through sherif !
Show, shiner, shining
First photography
aliby !
No you honor,
I’ve condessed
I killed him
jury’s in horror.

Again the window !
Supected spectator
Spectacular and
Sceptical
illusions are not opticals

In my youth
Vigor
Optimum
Continuum
Momentum
Ridin’ bum
Numb
Thumbs press her gum.

Pentobarbital delirium
Til death tear us apart !
Glad to hear from them
the sect
The guru
Solding your gem.

What’s life but a game.

Lights are off, didn’t notice it at first
back at it,
last to run.
Lead the fun
cow-boy empty your gun.

Fragile, fragile !
Careful !
When you move the crate
Treatorous creature !

All on board !
Shot vulture !

Nothing is
Against nature,

Except deprived minds like ours.

Good allure…

Ascending !
Descending…
Deceiving.

Producting
Engenering
Ring
Of
fire.

Situation is dire !

Light spray faster than
A startled cat.

Gaining more fat
Bulking.
For the King.

silence, no more chat.
Dear audience
This is the end

Of the act.

Dim the light.

Slowly.

Dazed and confused.

Down the hatch

Once again, dear friend.

Down and out.

Goodbye.

—

Jaskiers

Tributes to The Lizard King series # 1 | Under the influence

The « Tributes to the Lizard King » series is my hommage to the poems and writings of Jim Morrison.

FYI: I am not fluent in English, I’m trying to be at least. Sorry for the potentials mistakes. Feel free to correct me in the comment section.

—

Wrote under influence

Here I am. Once again I have to take this pill supposed to make me feel good. To stop my sadness and to make me sleep.

Let me tell you, I hate those drugs ! My instinct, when I’ve been prescripted them, told me that’s wasn’t a good thing. I should have followed my instinct. After all, this ancient gift lead us, humanity, to where we are right now.

The first time I took them, they tasted like something… chimical. Almost sour and surely not a moment I look up to when I’m going to sleep.

I accuse them of being responsible for a lot of physical problems. Hair failling out from my scalp.

It mess with my whole body but others, them, they all seems ok after taking it but apparently… the problem is me.

So, once I swallow the pills, I was sure that this drugs will lead me to degradation.

Well I have heard many times, from my gut instinct, from the inside.

So I kept taking it… it was something. I took one a few minutes ago.

telle me the worse situation.

How much of pill consumption do i need ?

This pill also bring non-sens.

This is a strange things, what am I seeing ?

So now, I should really understand.

I dread having to take them.

They burn my brain.

Until the sun rise, that cruel mesure of time. A tic and a toc.

This is messing up everything over there. Why do we need sleep anyway.

Doing it’s things, it’s a very good service !

It’s difficult to write under the influence. Why ? Too hard for you to fully understand. Take one for yourself darling.

They want to kill a loyal customer. I wish I could go and see, but I’m on my way to become a zombi.

I don’t understand why I need this… come on. Why don’t you go inside and leave me alone after consumption ?

What kind of subject do you offer me ?

Vision of tree and fake leather.

Where do you wan’t to lead me ?

What do you want to show me ?

What do you want from me ?

Why are you showing me this ?

Is everything ok ? You burn my brain.

My energy you’re draining.

Too much damage ! I’ll finish in the gutters.

Stop enforcing your laws on me !

Segnõr stop ! I’m only daft, don’t wan’t to die yet !

If only my body could understand. I just want sleep.

How heavy is the mind ? How fragil it is. A simple pill !

The forest is waiting for me. I see the tree, green leaves ! I take some for thee…

How romantic ! Lost in my antics’!

Thanks you Jim for your wisdom,

Because know I’m feeling free !

In my poetry !

Unleash the crazy !

Down, my eyes are bleeding. For trying to escape an heavy mind. Can’t even found solace in the arms of the sleeping god !

Why Am I Even (heaven) here ?

Duality of the two sides of my brain. One telling me : give up yourself my dear. The other ? Too numb, to dumb.

I don’t want it ! But I need it ! Duality, this foe ! You ennemy !

Let me sleep !

But you have to do your deed !

Dead.

Writing till my mind shut off.

A gift for you, dear reader. Kind audience.

This is everyday, a battle for wellness.

A pill, and another one. Waking up in the middle of the night to finish the work. And meeting a strange fellow. A mysterious entity took control. Few hours of sleep and he disapear.

How strange.

Thanks Jim.

To the wizard king !

Keep dancing !

I wish I could… tame my music.

Sorry, I need some sleep.

—

Jaskiers

Our house par Crosby, Still, Nash and Young

Our House par Crosby, Still, Nash and Young sur YouTube

Nous sommes en 1970, un autre monde de nos jours.

Les cheveux sont longs, on combat la guerre par l’amour. La douleur par drogue. La société par la musique.

Le trio Crosby, Stills et Nash est rejoint par un jeune virtuose de la poésie et de la guitare, un certain Neil Young, grand, maigre, cheveux long. Ils sortiront de leur collaboration un magnifique album.

Cette chanson, dans laquelle vous vous plongez, nécessite que vous fermiez les yeux et écoutiez leurs harmonies accompagné de leurs guitares et leurs paroles.

Tout va bien, vous êtes avec l’être que vous aimez, dans une maison parfaite pour vous et vos deux chats qui se prélassent dans le jardin. Vous avez allumé le feu dans la cheminé, des fleurs sont posées par votre âme sœur dans un vase, tout neuf. Après tant de déboire, vous êtes heureux, donc vous chantez.

J’espère que vous apprécierez. Je vous conseil vivement de découvrir Crosby, Still, Nash qui formaient un groupe appelé… Crosby Still and Nash !

Pendant quelques temps, un jeune musicien surnommé The Loner, le solitaire en français, Neil Young, les rejoindra pour ajouter sa voix à la leur. Magie de la musique.

D’une époque où la jeunesse proclamait l’amour contre la haine.

Malheureusement, cette jeunesse a vite retournée sa veste, laissant les futures générations dans la confusion. Encore aujourd’hui…

Our house is a very, very, very fine house

With two cats in the yard

Life used to be so hard

Now everything is easy ’cause of you

Petite anecdote : Neil Young a dit que Kurt Cobain n’était pas juste le meilleur, mais le meilleur de tous les temps.

Jaskiers