Saturn at last


let the voyage be long

through the dark and the cold

let the stars howl their song

in the deepest silence

float this inky sea

slowly dripping ether

a lone forget-me-not

oh when passes the king

and finally crests the wave

I have dreamt of the wild

Saturn at last


such beautiful science

a letter in the post

a melting of all sold

an island off the coast

perhaps I am ici

or perhaps anywhere

and still I keep the knot

tying back to this thing

that I regret I gave

never thought it so mild

Saturn at last


three more to go

until the last unturned stone

two plus au plus tôt

and then I’m all alone

et quand j’étais petit

je rêvais d’un enfer

où toujours je pianote

remember the princeling?

how he came to engrave

the way my words are styled

Saturn at last


owe it to the how

if I die young


if i die young

bury me in sand

lay me down on a

bed of roses

sink me in the river

at dawn

send me away

with the words of a love song


let the world offer

a helping hand

and let it devour

the rest of my soul

may i flow away

in a heart not yet sleeping

erode like the gentle hum

of a mother on her child


offer my soul to the sun

to be ashened dry

until moon and stars

flood the red embers

if i die young

let my ship never strand

and float the dreams of me

until they last no more


“It is in the awe of the sea that I wish to lie.”

i know



You grow on me, Ivy

Like leaves on a wall

Like a fine german liqueur

Like a six seconds video

You grow on me, Ivy

You grow on me

You grow ever longer,

Ever flourished

Ever wronger

And I drink you in

A sweet poison

Honey dipped in cyanide

And happiness evercome


You grow on me, Ivy

Like a late night call

Like a green jay but sweeter

Like fried bacon at a rodeo

You grow on me, Ivy

You grow me on

You grow ever stronger

Ever cherished

Ever wronger

And I bring you in

My suite person

Rosy-lipped speak what I hide

Your sappiness fuels the thrum


The green, the call

The red, the fall,

I’ve read our story, Ivy

I’ve read it long, I’ve read it old

I’ve read it more during the cold

I’ve made it mine, I’ve made it ours,

I’ve made the time, I’ve 

I’ve read our story, Ivy

And I’ve loved every second of it

Every word, every sentence

The future, the present, even the past tense

I’ve loved it all, I’ve loved it my way

I’ve lost it all, I’ve lost it my way

I’ve read our story, Ivy

I’ve read it,



You’re my envy, Ivy.

It’s like a tree in the wind


I’m losing all my leaves

They’re falling each their own

One at a time, all together

I’m losing all my leaves

Like a tree in the wind

Like a branch in the rain

As autumn falls on me

I’m losing all my leaves

And my roots have grown deep

So deep I cannot see

Where they are leading me

I’m losing all my leaves

To the wind and the rain

To the scrolling of time

To the scratching of this itch

I’m losing all my leaves

And the birds are still singing

And the world is still turning

Under a sky of blues

I’m losing all my leaves

In the bloom of flowers

In this last dance of bees

By the small pond of old

Where I used to fish with them

I’m losing all my leaves

Floating away in the night

I’m losing all my leaves

Try as hard as I might

My fingers are stiff

As my skin after bark

I’m losing all my leaves

And no spring awaits me

Around the bend of the river

Let them carry away

I’m losing all my leaves

I’m losing all my leaves

I’m losing all my leaves

As I once thought they would stay


A father is a father as a father may be.

By the end of summer I shall be gone


By the end of Summer I shall be gone

Long overdue and wildly planned

In seconds and moments out of bound

Out of mind, out of all norms and drawn lines

Out of the path that has been most taken

By the end of Summer I shall be gone

Towhere nobody does truly know

In matter or corporeal, or in the ether of the mind,

or perhaps in a new form long thought forgotten

I shall be gone nonetheless and that shall be it

No more go-backs, no more waitings,

Not a single tick more to expect

Only the thrill of the run, the ache in the lungs

the fire burning in each and every limbs

And perhaps, just perhaps, a sliver of hope

For a plan drawn in the sand at searise.

Winter and Spring and Summer and Autumn

And Winter and Spring have come and gone

and will come and go again

But no time is like the future present in the face of the past

I have sworn and I shall upkeep my oath

By the end of Summer I shall be gone

Styx and stowns may brake my boons

But wards may never kill me

Three days later I shall rise and

Walk upon the Earth twice lived

Or perhaps I shall sleep evermore

And drift asea, abed, aboard a new ship

A ship of old remade too many times

Love is not for me, life is not for me,

I am not for me, only desire

And perhaps in such excess resides the truth of what I seek

Perhaps in greed resides my wisdom

Perhaps in sloth resides my legacy

Perhaps in lust resides my peace

I know them well these sins

I know them well and yet I don’t

They are etched into my heart

But forgotten at a glance, each beat further and further,

Until my mind’s eye witnesses my Death once again,

I know them well and they know me,

Yet we are friends, together we lie

I know them well when they are mine

I know them well when they are not

Yet they are strangers on the porch,

Not invited across the threshold

Hospitality forgotten, family forgotten, friends forgotten

They are mine and I am theirs, yet who?

I shall be gone by summer’s end

One way or another

Or another.


and who forgets the forgotten?



i see you as i see me

i see you as you see me

you see me as i see you

but do you see you as i see you

how can you go and say that at a wedding after so long

how can you go and reply that at your wedding after so long

i’ve waited so long for that

i’ve waited so long for that

i’ve waited so long for that

well maybe you should have done something

let the word rip out your cage

let the bird drip out your rage

maybe you have waited so long for that

but maybe you should have taken the slap

and let your glasses askew

please don’t marry mike

i swear to god upon his feet

and in the palace of his heart

as bear as the words that claw my throat

i will die upon this spike

i will die until we meet

if you keep only playing the part

and die again once this is wrote

and here’s the angel of death who watches

as the puppets of their lord’s will

dance the dance to end all dances

the one that myriad repeats has ended time itself

and they cannot quite feel their wings

nor the gentle gale that should flutter

because there’s a devil that is dancing

heavy and drunk on their shoulder

there is this hole you’ve been digging

large and deep and full of blood

but there’s this hole you’ve been digging

which i have turned into a bore

i climbed the steps down one by one

each warmer, colder, painfully far

and you lent me one of your spades

to shovel at the fleeting warmth

there is anger in my mouth

and the chorus echoes it well

in all its all knowing glory

the one that comes with such worry

but they too have been silent long

the voices of the lord as impenetrable

as the veil before your eyes

on this day

i know i have no right, i have no claim

you know you have no fight, you’ve been so lame

we know all that and know it well

it’s engraved on the beating flesh

that synchronized when our eyes met

yet couldn’t fucking beat on time

always quiet or always late

we know it all, we know it well

yet i implore upon theses steps

let me reveal what is hidden

in all its glory, in all its wrath

i am the sinner you the heathen

call you benoist call me macgrath


the fire blazing in my veins is freezing cold

(so i read this and simply almost broke my computer in half in frustration; i know I’m a sucker for pining but come on…)

i needed the catharsis

Mourir demain


Au détour d’une rue

Il y a une vie peut-être

J’ai croisé une ville,

J’ai rencontré la pluie;

Si elle n’était pas mienne

Elle coulait sur mon âme,

Je l’ai vue ruisseler

Sur tant de boutons

Et fleurir les espoirs

De milliers de cœurs;

Ceux qui l’ont fait tomber

Se rient de mes ébats

Avec maux et merveilles,

Ils m’ont offert le monde

Et n’ont rien demandé

Mais la contrepartie

S’est trouvée toute donnée :

Une éternité de moments

Où font écho les chœurs

Et filent entre mes doigts

Comme l’eau vive.

Il est temps de partir

Et de mourir un peu

Ce soir car vient demain,

Mais le sourire aux lèvres,

Les yeux dans les nuages,

Car je vous ai aimé

Bande de beaux humains.


parfois un peu cliché, pas toujours totalement satisfaisant, mais bordel qu’est-ce que c’était bien !

There Is A Sun At The Gates


there is a sun at the gates

a blazing star

waiting to be let in

withering the wood, weathering it too

until the door stands no more

and the gates are open

there is a sun at the gates

raining fire over the fields

shining over the stone

melting it

into seas of grey and black

white and yellow and gold

and it shines silent, patient

eons in the making

eons before it fades

it has waited and shall wait again

and one day perhaps

when the gates open or stand no more

after being rebuilt time and time again

one day, perhaps


the sun will shine on you too

there is a sun at the gates

small yet immensely vast

bigger than anything

burning hot, coiling

a warmth against itself, within itself

and yet

it burn without burning

it hurts without hurting

and the gate knows it cannot hold it

for beyond the wood,

beyond the stone,

beyond the steel that holds it together

beyond all that

the sun

the sun waits and lies

it lies dormant and awake

it lies with night, with words

and it needs not to rise to rouse itself from its slumber

for what can ever sleep may never die

there is a sun at the gates

and as the bells toll to announce its arrival

the king knows

a sun meeting another

a star burning another star

indomitable power in front of indomitable power

in the face of the man from god

from one god to another

what holds and what doesn’t

that may very well be the question

but the gate knows

in all of the things

that may or may not

it is not destined to hold

for it is to be opened

there is a sun at the gates

and the gates are patient

yet the sun is patienter still

what lies beyond

what remains within

what exists in between

there are no edges

no frontiers

only light

and perhaps, in time,

one can learn to look at it

to watch it, to admire it,

without burning


voiced in the twilight of sleep, writen at dawn

Soleil couchant


Tu es faite de feu et de poussière d’étoile,

Tu es faite d’émeraude et d’ichor,

Le monde est ton pinceau et tu en es la toile,

Chaque minute est ta scène, chaque endroit ton décor;

Et je suis spectateur de cette symphonie

Qui joue de mon battant et de mes insomnies.

Derrière le projecteur je trace les ombres chinoises,

Saccadées, indistinctes, trépidantes et sournoises.

Par chance quelque fois, ou par jeu du destin,

J’aperçois les fils qui tirent les ficelles

De l’ode captivante que tu danses pour les cieux.

Tu es le lion et la vie est ton festin,

Mais parfois tu trébuches, tu chancelles

Sous le poids de ce cadeau des dieux,

Et dans le miroir où chacun y perd un peu de soi,

Du doigt les formes touchant,

Doucement tu souffles une vieille oraison.

Parfois, parfois, c’est toi qui m’aperçoit,

Et alors ta crinière de soleil couchant

Coule sur ma peau comme le jour sur l’horizon.


Pour insertion.

c’est comme si c’était toi


treize heures cinquante cinq

un point quatre kilo octets seconde

je le vois passer à toute berzingue

et je ne peux le rattraper, le monde;

j’ai encore oublié d’éteindre la bluetooth,

la voilà qui dévore toutes mes pensées,

quarante pourcent de batterie

et je sens jaillir cet espoir insensé:

malgré les tremblements et les secousses

peut-être les larmes seront de la partie?

voilà que je ne fais plus vraiment de sens

et que mes mots ne sont guère très jolis

mais je ne peux pas quand j’y pense

assise sur le rebord de la folie,

et dans le silence de mon royaume

encore si bruyant à mes oreilles

quoi que je dise ou je prétende

j’entends cette voix qui me demande

est-ce que chez vous ça sera pareil

dans vos tours d’argent et de chrome?

est-ce que vous sentez la force fragile

qu’il y a derrière ces mots ?

le colosse aux pieds d’argiles

qui apporte ce court et simple mémo?


je l’ai vue en me levant

au soleil pâle du matin

elle se tenait là devant

dans une robe de satin,

et puis dans un éclair de givre

qui coulait sur les pétales

j’ai presque oublié de vivre

loin de mon village natal.


j’ai l’impression de ne pas comprendre

je sais nager pourtant je coule