It's funny
(Charles Bukowski)

Switching the tv channels
Endlessly
You get all the faces and there's never the right face
Just faces
It's an unfloding horror
Flick!
Flick!
Flick!
More of less

Faces that speak what they have been stuffed with
How did they get inside the glass?
Who put them there?
Is there nothing else?
A world to have?
A world to save?
These are not my people
Where have my people gone?



Marangoni

All these things mean all to me
The smell of her lips
The strength of a bliss
The sun ray reflecting on the glass
The tears of my wine
the shout of this woman
The graveyard of my senses isn't born yet

And I'm raising my eyes to the sky
But I don't pray

There are these people running through the street
I don't ever see one, I am
The light off of a blink
I sometimes feel so small
I don't want to go quick

This is how it has to be
Not as it should
The remembrance of what we said
will tear us apart from what we're doing now
Someone told me yesterday
"I regret"
And I ask myself again,
how human is able
to feel like a small hurt animal

So many years I've been working on



Twin Engine Aircraft

My eyes they are twin engine aircraft
and the wind is blowing the rain against the window

While I'm awaiting for new sounds coming to me
New plastic ideas for all of my new friends


And just like when you never want to talk to anybody
There is always somebody for asking you


What do you think of the weather ?
And how it has to be
Will it rain enough?
And the sun shine as I need?



Clearblack

Juste quelques secondes
Mais pas une de plus
La vie se limite
à quelque trop
Et s'efface...
Un fragment et c'est clos
Un fragment c'est trop

La mémoire intacte n'est qu'un apparat
"Laissez-nous le temps de leur faire oublier"

Il n y'a plus rien à voir mais on regarde
Plus rien à entendre mais on écoute
Plus rien à sentir mais on se frotte



Supernova

I want to go back again to the rock
To have the creeps approaching the lake
To see the sunbeams that are reflected on water, Glittering and shimmering
But when I prick up my ear I think I can hear
Something that is beating

Second chance for breaking the frames
We have so many things to do
One time, one more second everything will be alright

I walk and walk between the buildings,
She is growing as I am advancing
And while I am under the lights they shine like stars
But when I prick up my ear I think I can hear
Something that is beating



Tumbledown

I was sit on the top of the roof
Awaiting my past to be better
Thinking about the first time I grab this wall
and how I fell on the ground, cold ground
My broken elbow
People, they don't have to know
Over the past ...
This past is gone
Over the past ...
We ran through a wasted time field
Over the past
Am I now just another me ?
Over the past
So this is over

I have understood for a long time
There is no way to pass through this without any damage
Without any injury



WHITE DRESS

My mind is wearing a white dress
Is what this day may be the worst?
Give it a shot, that's what he was saying
Because wherever you go, there you are

I've been searching for years, some sense through this cranial box
On se demande où tu te trouves ?

Am I comfortable with silence?
Not more than with the cries
Don't you know I don't mind if you
keep the keys with you

Surrender your echoes


End of the lesson time for one more question?



Alone With Everybody
(Charles Bukowski)

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too much
and nobody finds the one
but keep looking
crawling in and out of beds.
flesh covers the bone and the
flesh searches for more than
flesh.

there's no chance at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular fate.

nobody ever finds the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.



Le combattant
(Charles Bukowski)

Hemingway le sent dans sa tombe
Chaque fois que les taureaux galopent
Dans les rues de
Pampelune
Il se redresse
Son squelette s'entrechoque
Le crâne réclame à boire
Les orbites réclament le soleil
Les jeunes taureaux sont beaux,
Ernest
Et tu l'étais aussi
Quoi qu'ils disent
Aujourd'hui