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

Just Another Haunted Hotel Room Story – FINAL

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 pack of cigarettes is still here, untouched.

«- Is this a fucking nightmare once again?!»

He tense up, waiting for something to happen. A couple of minutes passed without something happening excepted for a dull silent.

Jack look at the ceiling, the smoke stain looked like a rabbit, like the first time he entered the room.

«- That’s… the fucking sign!»

He waited another five minutes. Nothing.

With a little bit of anxiety, he looked back again at the ceiling, still the same rabbit form.

The author fell asleep without noticing it. The fire alarm woke him up.

«- This is a nightmare! You’ll not foul me this time!»

A knock on the door and the voice of the young hotel clerk rose along the horrible alarm noise:

«- Mister, you have to exit the room, we have a fire here!

• Ah! You stupid motherfucker!
• Sir please! This is not a drill! Come out quickly!
• Yeah! And the giant snake is as long as my cock!
• What… this is not a joke! Yes, ladies and gentleman, leave through those stairs and gather to the front desk!
• Is my fucking bitch of a wife here by any chance?
• No! Sir, come on quick!
• Of course, that’s definitely what’s a liar would say!
• I can open the door for you and then, you’ll have to make a run for it!»

Jack was smelling the fire and started feeling the heat.

«- Very elaborate nightmares! You fucking… I don’t have words for this shit! And I’m a writer! »

The door opened and the young man passed his head through the doorway:

«- Ok, now I will leave, you better get the hell out of here! Because it’s gonna be… well, hell ! Come on sire, I’m leaving. If you stay well… God have mercy on your soul!

• Fuck off! Let me alone Sonia! Where are you dumb bitch! Come on! Make this nightmare end already! Or make it more original! Jesus! A fire? How creative!»

The only answer was the fire swallowing the wall in front of him, making the same noise as the wind during a storm with cracking sounds added to it.

Jack took his notebook to write about the aesthetics of the fire when he noticed the pack of cigarettes untouched. He looked at the ceiling to see the smoke mark looking like a rabbit being devoured by flames.

This was real.

«- Fuck me! Jack you stupid fool!»

He took his notebook, let his trousers and grabbed his laptop, that was about to be destroyed, not without burning is hand.

As he ran outside, the roof started falling and he would have been a dead man if the hotel clerk didn’t grabbed him and pushed him toward the stairs.

After joining the other clients gathered in choc in front of the desk, Jack coughed, his lungs were suffocating him.

Red and blue lights flashed on the tired and anxious faces.

«- Sorry kid, had a weird nightmare and thought that… y’know.

• Well, it’s probably more than a nightmare that you had. You probably sleepwalked, you are the one who started the fire!
• What are you on about!
• I saw you using a deodorant and a lighter and running around yelling non-sens words!
• What? No!
• I saw you too you crazy asshole! Said an old lady.
• I… no! It’s a dream! You are my bitchy wife aren’t you! »

Jack punched the aged women in the face. The patrons restrained him until police arrive and took him to the nearest mental hospital.

Today, Jack still thinks that he is stuck in a nightmare. His goal is to go back to that hotel room to wake up.

The only problem, the hotel doesn’t exist anymore. In fact, it was an abandoned motel.

Jack was found by the police half-naked, screaming and yelling, alone in front of the burning abandoned building.

Jaskiers

P.S. : JOYEUX NOËL À VOUS TOUS !

Just Another Haunted Hotel Room Story – Part. 4

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.

—

« – Mister? Are you all right?

• What the fuck happened?
• A client called me saying she could hear screams coming from you room. I entered and…
• The fire! Fuck! The fire? Is everyone all right ? Did you take my notebook out of this hellhole?
• What? No, there is no fire!
• What the…
• You are in your room sir, everything all right here. Except you of course.
• But the TV and the furnitures were on fire and…
• Jack, the TV is on its stand, there is no fire!
• I’ve tried to open the window but I couldn’t…
• Yes, client complaint often about our windows. That why it’s smell like cigarette and shit like that, can’t open it so they… »

Jack T. stopped listening to the young man, because he saw the spot on the ceiling transforming into a picture perfect demoniac face, horns and all.

« – Fuck ! I want to change room right now!

• Ho ho! Jack! You dull boy! All work and no play, hasn’t changed much it’s seems! »

The writer looked at the young man who’s face was metamorphosing into his wife head and using her voice.

« – You haven’t changed! Asshole!

• What? Leave! What are you doing here!
• But I’m your wife!
• Was…
• You son of a bitch »

He received a slap on the right cheek and some spit on his face.

« – What the Fuck Rosie! You know you’ve got a restraining order against me, I can’t be close to you!

• See, I’m gonna call the cops! You will never see the kid again!
• Bitch! »

Jack pulls up a gun, point it at his wife face and shoot.

The brain matter splatter everywhere and the dead body transform itself as the poor hotel clerk.

« – Shit shit shit! Sorry!

• What the hell is going on here!
• I’ve… shoot a man!
• What?
• Oh my God Please help me!
• Hell no ! I’m calling the cops!
• No! I’m sick!
• God damn right you sick you son of a bitch! »

The hotel room door shatters and enters a giant snake.

« – What…

• Sssssss shut up! »

The author points his gun at the snake.

« – No darling please!

• Stop ! Stop using my wife voice! »

The reptile jump at him and wrap himself around Jack body and tighten his grip. The bones crack and Jack can’t breathe anymore.

And he woke up. The bedsheets are drenched. No dead body, no giant snake.

Feeling terrified, he decides to have a smoke. Maybe with this, he would be sure that he isn’t dreaming.

He doesn’t waste time, put the cigarette between his lips, take the lighter, light up the smoke and inhale.

He coughed. His lungs and throat weren’t used to the smoke anymore.

His heartbeat who was going haywire slowed dawn and the writer exhaled the poisonous vapor and sighted.

Everything was calm. He felt a sensation of appeasement, the nicotine doing their work.

He builds up some courage to take his notebook to write the strange and horrific dreams he had just experienced.

Just as he put the pencil’s lead on the paper, Jack hears a soft knock on the door.

The adrenaline immediately spread their powerful forces into every part of his body.

He waited a few seconds. Maybe he had confused a soft knock with a random noise from outside.

Silence.

And an another knock, more noisy this time.

« – Yeah? Said Jack in a very low voice.

• Mister, it’s the hotel’s clerk.
• Did… what do you want?
• Is everything all right for you?
• Yeah… why?
• Just heard some… noise. You know…
• Well… what kind of noise?
• Like someone… like you weren’t alone…
• Ha… no as far as I know I am alone.
• It’s okay… if there someone with you… you know, one of those ladies of the night…
• No! God no! No I promise you I’m all alone here.
• You wouldn’t be the first customer doing that y’know.
• No! No! I don’t have prostitutes in my room.
• If you say so… Wouldn’t be surprised y’know. Fame and money get you some puss…
• I said no God damn it!
• Won’t you shut the hell up over there!
• Sorry madame ! I’m just checking out with a client.
• Well it’s the fucking middle of the night! Damn! You guys gonna have some bad rating on internet!
• Oh! Well, we’re used to it there so, go on.
• Jesus! I will get you fired!
• Ok boomer whatever.
• Little asshole!
• What a distinguished vocabulary you have here!
• Don’t mess with me boy!
• It’s okay!
• No it’s not!
• Holy shit!
• Boy you think you can fuck with me?
• Sorry madame!
• It’s America asshole! We carry guns for a reason!
• Yes, right, I’m sorry!
• Jack! I’ve told you I would found you! »

Gunshots erupt, door bust open. Jack’s ex-wife enters the room.

« – Is this a fucking dream?

• You shit! It’s probably more of a nightmare.
• Shit! What the fuck is going on!
• I haven’t forgotten Jacky boy! »

The woman shoots right at the writer.

Jack woke up. In sweat, once again.

Jaskiers

Ode To A Redemption (A Poem)

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.

—

This poem was inspired by Red Dead Redemption 2

Once there was a time
we would have kill for a dime.

No past,
forget the West,
here in the East,
feel like an undesirable guest.
No laugh, just pain,
pest,
and death.

Dreams of majestic beast in the wild,
a free roaming stag.
Everybody here is out of their minds.

Get on horses, run free,
no responsibilities,
no duties.
Just you and me.

It feels like the past,
come at me too fast.

How did we end up here ?
Starting to regret a lifestyle that I’d used to love.
Opened my eyes, should have been with you.
Give each other another shot,
I don’t have much left,
how could I dare,
express myself,
after so many lives destroyed,
by my own hands.

I am ashamed,
and scared.
But I’m waiting for no heaven
‘cause on Earth, I acted like a demon.
I am ready, to join the devil.

This is too easy,
to say sorry,
to ask for forgiveness.

They’re some things you simply can not change,
no going back,
nor going further,
until the end.

I’m roting from the inside,
the mad men I am,
show itself in the outside.

I will not lie,
I had good times,
the ones with you.

You’ll see me next,
six feet under the dirt,
if I have the chance,
to end it all,
with some honor.

As I try to make peace with my God,
I know, coming from me,
this is odd,
Thousand of questions,
starting all with why.
I’ll never have the answer,
I just have to tell you my goodbyes.

Your on my mind,
you were more precious,
than every gold I’ve stolen.
I guess this is the moment,
when we’re about to leave this life,
that everything seem so simple.

Maybe I should forgive everyone,
to disappear,
but know that for you,
I would have gone
a hundred thousand miles,
just to see your eyes.

Maybe one more last kiss,
you’re all I’ve ever missed,
a relationship
gone in the mist.

What a savage I was,
running and ruining
the poisoned gift of a life. Living a lie.

Nothing makes sens,
civilisation is putting fences,
around a property,
working days and night,
weekly,
monthly,
yearly.

That wasn’t the kind of life I’ve ever wanted,
nor a life that I’ve lived.

On the run, constantly,
friends murdered,
the worries.
It took its toll,
on my mind,
on my soul.

I hope that for you, the future hold,
a respectable life,
happiness, that you don’t necessarily
find in dollar bills.

I’ve been hunting for it,
never had enough.
Was I addicted to violence ?
Sure.
You didn’t deserve that life,
no future,
a constant blur.

You’ll live the rest of your existence,
knowing I was yours once.

I hope that you’ll live fully,
proudly,
knowing that all along,
you were in my heart.

I was lucky,
to ride along with you,
even if it was on a rocky road.
Your love was priceless to me,
I was too proud,
to express it,
in front of you face.

I regret too much thing,
but now it’s times,
to go away,
to write down my last will, pay back no depts nor bills
and to spread my wings.

Jaskiers

This someone in the mirror (A short story/reflexion)

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.

—

Have you ever had this curious sensation, when you look at yourself in the mirror and wonder who is it that the glass is reflecting?

Of course, it’s you. Here you are, this is you, physically at least.

You move your head, you realize that you’ll never have the possibility to see yourself with your own eyes, you need a mirror or a photography.

This is a curious and powerful moment. Everything that is happening, everything you lived through, every damned second of you life have been happening in that head, that head reflected by the mirror. This is you, your physical entity.

While thinking about this curious feeling, your thoughts lead you to the infinite of space, the universe.

You realize how futile the human body is compared to the apparent endlessness of our world.

After this weird feeling, which started to become an overwhelming one, you are confronted with death.

Am I really alive? Is this really my reflexion in that mirror or what I think I look like? Is it someone else? Am I really alive? What does « alive » mean? Living? I can see my face, it’s physical, my existence take it’s form in that body of mine.

And what if I die? Am I already dead? What if it was all a lie? What if this life I’m living is just my imagination? Do I really understand that I am real?

As you asking yourself those hypotheticals questions, imagine you see the reflexion in the mirror moving, reflecting you, but it’s start to move on it’s own, it is not reciprocating your movement but live and act on it’s own accord.

Imagine that you follow the movement of that reflexion.

You are becoming the mirror.

You are the reflexion now.

You’re in the wrong side of the glass, if there ever was a wrong side.

What are you really when your one true self is looking at the mirror?

Other than that, when your independent reflexion leave, you are nowhere, in a place where existence isn’t real, imagine space but you can’t move and at the same time you’re drifting slowly. You can see but you see nothing. You only really exist when the other you present itself in front of the mirror.

But let’s go back, you are yourself now. The reflexion in the mirror is living its life.

It’s something frightening to see your body living a life of its own. A feeling of loosing control slowly overwhelm you. What does your body do? What’s life in this reflexion for the other you? How do you think you’ll feel? Like this is not really you? This other body that look exactly like yours live a life that is completely different from the real one. Yet it’s your body that you can see. Is that other physical life completely at the opposite of what your current existence is? Are you the same entity?

What if that reflexion start noticing you and realize that you are his reflexion? Do you think you would talk to each other? What kind of questions would you ask to that other you? What kind of question will he ask you?

Imagine seeing this reflexion of you passing through the mirror, touching your face.

You can join them or let them join you.

What will be you decision?

What if life was nothing but a very long and painful hallucination? A farce? A joke? A simulation?

A simple, yet sophisticated, reflexion of you own thoughts?

What if since the beginning, you don’t exist? Never was and never will be?

Your physical being is just a reflexion. From a mirror, a photography, someone eyes. You only really exist inside your mind. So, should we really put this much importance towards apparence? Shouldn’t we trust what we feel instead of what we see?

Our world is inside our minds. Individually and collectively.

Jaskiers

People are strange (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.

—

Letter received and diffused by The New-York Pines after the gruesome discovery of a dead body in Greenwich Village :

Greetings New-Yorkers and to the whole wide world ;

I discovered that I must be a strange fellow since my art wasn’t recognized the way I thought it would be.

This is annoying to put your heart and soul into something and seeing it end up being a disaster.

Maybe because people are strange, or maybe this is all me. I’m confused…

I’ve carefully choosed my subject and the scenery. The message that I wanted to share with the world completely falled apart. Nobody seems to have really understood my work, my art. I have put a lot of heart and effort into it. But people don’t seems to appreciate this art of mine.

It was beautifull, at least from my point of view.

Carefully hanged on an old telegraphic wire linking two building, hanging in the air and crossing a busy and scenic commercial street, there was exposed my masterpiece, for you all to see.

A torso that I, the « misunderstood artist » sculpted and carved into the most noble components. A component that no artist ever use, or very rarely.

Just a torso a real human torso, suspended in the air in the same pose as the Christ on his cross.

It took some time to do this… finding the right materials, the place… It took some thinking to hang my art piece in the right place. I won’t really go into details, a magician keep is secret, and so does the artist.

What kind of message I wanted to vehiculate ? This is the kind of questions no artists should answer ! Let it to your audience to build their own opinion. Why does the artist always need to explain his work ? It’s too easy if we revealed the true meaning of our art ! Let the individual to make is own assumption. That’s why art exist : make up your own minds, find the meaning, your personnal one.

Does a piece of art always have to make sense ? Hell no ! It have a meaning for sure, unconsciously, we give it one when we’re creating it. Personally, I let my instincts take the wheel of my creativity. Can’t go wrong if it is from a feeling deep within my soul that my art come to life.

But, like I said before, people are strange. Jim Morrison used to sing about this. He probably knew how strange it was to be an artist, a successful one, and seeing all those peoples, fans, journalists, critics, others artists, criticizing your work and at the same time your life. Wich is stupid !

Let me give you and advice : you have to differentiate the personnal life of an artists from his work. Those are two completely different entities.

And as for the way an artist express himself, one should not judge them to harshly.

Of course I say that in my own defense because I know that I have traumatised peoples by hangin a real human torso in a middle of a busy street.

Lessen, it was an experience, yes a awfull one but I did get reactions !

Next time, I’ll kill the guy in front of your innocents and pathetic eyes !

What I did was art. And it’s a disrespectful to call me a narcissistic and perverted killer !

I have made New-York a trend Again ! I’m the new Andy Warhol !

I am a king maker ! That is the name that I want you all, fucking maggots, to call me : The King Maker !

Sincerely ;

The King Maker.

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